Page 37 of Sinful Promise

A breeze glides over the vessel’s bow, and I look around to see a lounge area with a bar, couches in the shade, and chairs in the sun. A buffet table overflowing with fresh fruits and baked goods tempts me, along with the smells of sausage, eggs, and warm maple syrup.

“Have something to eat,” Irina instructs. “The Bloody Marys are rather spicy if you like that kind of thing. I’m having another mimosa.” She raises a finger, and without a word, a young woman in a pressed uniform brings her an orange drink in a champagne flute. Wow, that’s service.

I head to the buffet and grab a plate out of the plate warmer. The male server is dressed in a crisp white outfit that reminds me of the dress uniform Tom Cruise wore inTop Gun: Maverick. He smiles and asks if I want eggs.

“Yes, please.”

He carefully scoops a generous portion of scrambled eggs onto my plate. I nod yes for the sausage and a croissant. With my plate full of more food than I can eat, I approach the bar, where a woman fills pitchers with fresh-squeezed orange juice. I ask for the same thing Irina is drinking and watch her pour champagne into a tall glass and add a generous splash of orange juice. She hands me the drink, and I take a sip. It’s a slice of paradise, fizz, and orange juice. I take another sip and remind myself to go slow. If I’m thirsty, there’s always water.

A different woman in uniform takes my plate, carries it to the large round table, and sets it next to Roman. I’m beginning to think the crew members outnumber the guests and wonder if they know my situation. I bet they all had to sign documents of confidentiality. Such precautions make sense to avoid having your personal life in the headlines. That might bring enemies to your front door.

The scenery around us is relaxing, but the strict protocols and rules of etiquette leave me feeling a little uptight. I constantly worry that I’m going to say or do something wrong.

I sit next to Roman, and Alex looks up from his phone and asks how I slept.

“Like a baby.” I smile. “I didn’t realize I was so tired.”

“Well, hopefully, you’ve caught up. We’ll have to get you out on deck for fresh air.” Roman’s deep voice softens, causing me to blush.

I have a flashback to the shower and his naked body, water cascading down his muscular torso and ginormous erection. It’s enough to make me drop my fork.

I’m so distracted that I can barely eat. It’s as if Roman cast a spell on me. I can’t help but breathe in his scent—hints of citrus mixed with clean, fresh air that tickles my nose.

I force myself to take delicate bites of egg and sausage, then try the croissant. I know France is known to have the best pastries. When I bite into the buttery, flaky bread, I almost moan.

Everyone’s eyes are on me. Did I moan out loud?

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

Roman chuckles. “No, not at all. Eat, and be careful with that orange juice. It has alcohol in it.”

No wonder I don’t have a care in the world. A few sips of the orange elixir and I forget my troubles.

Irina and I exchange knowing looks. Is my lust for Roman written on my face?

“Where are you from, Irina?” It’s a safe question.

“All over, but I live mostly here in France.”

“You speak French as well?”

She holds the stem of her mimosa by her fingertips as she perches on the arm of Alex’s chair, diva-like. “Many languages, you?”

“Oh, not me. Russian and some versions of it and English.”

“Roman, you?”

“English and Russian, a bit of others when I need to get around.” He drains his tomato juice drink, leans back in his chair, and laces his fingers behind his head.

“What happens today?” I ask, taking another sip of my drink.

“Today, we will go out in the boat.” Alex smiles, and he and Irina chuckle.

“You’d better not tip the sailboat over again,” she says, but something tells me she’s not mad at him. I have a feeling she enjoyed their watery sailing trip.

“You’re taking out all the fun,” Alex protests, to which she rolls her eyes, but her lips tell a different story. I wonder what their history is and suspect she may be more than just a friend.

I want to ask Irina what she does for a living, but it seems no one talks about work. I don’t want to be rude, so I’ll wait and pick her brain when we’re alone. She’s so gorgeous. If she told me she’s a Bond girl, I would be tempted to believe her. She does everything effortlessly and looks good doing it, though she’s aloof and somewhat guarded. How can I be friends with someone so out of my league?

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