Page 36 of Sinful Promise

I shake away my erotic thoughts. What’s the point in dreaming about something that may not even happen? He had an opening, and he didn’t take it. I’m miffed. Was it because he doesn’t want me? Is he having second thoughts about using me for his revenge?

I lay awake, silently waiting for something to befall me, because the past twenty-four hours have been full of surprises. The plane’s low whistle was stuck in my mind, but now it’s gone. I’ve been driven in a car for a day, flown, and now helicoptered. The shower was the first I’ve had in days and much needed. I never knew a shower could be so therapeutic. By the time I was finished, I could not keep my eyes open and slipped into the bed.

I wonder what Roman is doing now. Is he with Irina? Is that why he didn’t make love to me in the shower? There are moments when I see desire in his eyes, but he seems intent on holding himself in check. I need to speed this up if I’m to lose my virginity before I’m sent back home.

My God, this bed feels delicious. The cool cotton sheets caress my skin as I wiggle around to feel them on my naked body. We don’t have nice things like this in our stores back home. I have no idea how he acquires such luxuries, but if Roman picked all this, he has impeccable taste.

I sit up, pulling the duvet to my chest as I enjoy the panoramic view in front of me. I’m gobsmacked, watching the warm sun kiss the coastline and make it sparkle. The blue sky is dotted with puffy cumulus clouds, and the sea is dancing with waves that look like small snow-capped mountains. This could be a movie or a dream. I’m afraid to pinch myself and wake up.

How did I know there was so much more to see and experience beyond my dreary life? Everyone at home is content to do the same routine every day. I don’t want it to end if this is a sample of what lies ahead. I take a deep breath and exhale. I’m on a roller coaster of highs and lows as I delight in the new and worry about the old catching up to me.

I throw the covers off and stand, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. I curl my toes into it, grounding myself in my new surroundings. The urge to make the bed hits me, but Roman said I’m not to lift a finger or do the crew’s work. The urge to pee overwhelms the urge to tidy up, so I head to the bathroom.

Sitting on the toilet, my mind wanders to the shower with Roman. It was the closest thing to a sexual experience I’ve ever had, and sadly, it ended too soon. The only other erect penis I’ve seen was attached to my oldest brother. It happened years ago when I walked into his room and caught him watching porn on his phone. He threw a blanket over his lap, but not before I realized he was pleasuring himself. He cursed at me, and I ran out of the room.

Thoughts of my family make me wonder what they are doing back home and if Papa is looking for me. I will pay the price for my defiance at some point, but until then, I’m going to live my life. I’ll start by unpacking the new clothes.

I amble into the closet, and I’m stunned to find the luggage gone and all the clothes put away or hanging perfectly spaced seven centimeters apart, as if a ruler had been used to precisely set the distance between each garment. Wow, I’m impressed with the invisible staff.

I sit on the padded stool in the closet and look around. There is so much to pick from that I’m overwhelmed. What will I wear? I have zero experience putting together a look that fits my surroundings.

I want to make a good impression on Irina. I’m getting anxious and hope we hit it off. If I get tossed overboard, maybe she’ll let my family know where they can look for my body. I push thoughts of my demise down like a bad case of heartburn. I have too much to live for now that I’ve gotten a taste of something more.

I choose a blue sundress with a lemon print. The bright yellow fruit reminds me of travel brochures I’ve seen for Sorrento and Capri. The dress has built-in support, which means I don’t have to wear a strapless bra.

I can skip the bra, but I can’t skip the panties. The first drawer I open holds bikinis, the next holds silky lingerie, and the last one holds intimate wear. I pull out a black thong and hold it up to the light. How am I supposed to wear it? It looks like a slingshot.

I slide the dress over my head, tug on the skimpy panties, and enter the bathroom. My hair is a fright. I slept on it wet. I find a hairbrush and methodically run it through one section at a time until it’s free of knots. I grab a can of mousse and spray it in my hand, but it hits the mirror instead.

Shit!

I use a towel to clean up the mouse. I don’t care what Roman says. If I muck up the place, I’m not leaving it for someone else to clean. Moments like this make me feel like an imposter. I have no business being on this incredible yacht. I try spraying the product in my hand again, and this time, it works. I run the product through my hair and find a hair dryer while I use the brush to add volume.

It’s not half bad when I'm done, but I need my bobby pins. I return to the closet to find my jeans and discover they’re gone. They must be in the laundry. What about my sneakers? I look around. To my relief, they are on a shelf next to a pretty pair of white sandals. I decide to wear the sandals today and save my sneakers for later.

I return to the bathroom and open drawers until I locate hair accessories but no bobby pins. I pull my hair up and tie it into a ponytail in case it’s windy outside. I don’t want to deal with another mess of knots.

Finished with my hair, I move on to my face. I’ve never mastered the art of makeup. The jars of cream, tubes of foundation, compacts of bronzer, and the myriad of brushes intimidate me. I peruse the basket and find a tube of tinted foundation with sunscreen added. I figure it can’t hurt. I’ve never been in the sun much, but I know it can damage my skin. I squirt the product onto my fingers and gently rub it in. I open a bronzer and use the brush to apply some to my cheekbones. There are tubes of lipstick in every color. I select one with a hint of red and apply it. It makes my lips pop, and I smile. I take a step back and look at myself in the mirror. I wish I had a phone so I could send Katsia a selfie. Maybe I can pull this off after all.

Now, where do I find everyone?

I slip on the sandals and leave the most comfortable place I’ve been in for two days. I can’t recall whether the ship has four or five decks, but I know Roman’s suite is on top so I have to walk down steps to get anywhere. I’ve got this.

I’m not positive, but I think the crew deck is below the main deck, and the engine and machinery to keep this beast going are below sea level. I decide to check the main deck first and slip down a set of carpeted steps.

“You must be Dasha.”

I turn and find a woman who looks a few years older than me. That, or she looks more worldly. I can’t decide. We must be the same height because she’s at eye level. Her soft brown eyes immediately put me at ease. Her dark hair is cut into a bob that frames her face perfectly.

“Are you Irina?” I ask, assuming a crew member would not wear a crocheted cover-up over a white one-piece swimsuit.

“Yes, I’ve been waiting to meet you. I heard you were tired.” She smiles, and I see two rows of snow-white teeth, the kind you see in toothpaste commercials.

“Are you with the others?”

“Yes, follow me.” She beckons with her hand, and I notice she’s wearing the same sandals. Fueled by confidence, I follow her with a bounce in my step, anxious to see what today offers.

Roman is at a table with the remains of what looks like breakfast. His eyes meet mine briefly before they travel down my body. I hope he approves of my dress. I can’t go wrong if his staff hand-picked my wardrobe.

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