Page 21 of Undercover Billionaire

Russo was no Captain Stubbing, that was for sure.

He was also, like Sameel, a little more effusive with the wealthier clientele, which was disappointing. Maybe this preferential treatment thingwassystemic? Attitude always came from the top down and Ari made a mental note to cross-check the ship’s performance with Russo’s tenure at the helm.

With his allotted five minutes up, the captain made his apologies and moved on, but not without first shaking the hands of the three American men at the table, sparing only a brief touch to his brim for Ari and the Lancashire factory worker.

Ari’s misgivings about the ship’s culture weighed heavily on him as the captain moved to the next table. He wasn’t liking what he was seeing. He wasn’t liking it one little bit.

5

It was still bugging Ari the next morning. Or rather the first thing he’d thought about when he’d woken this morning had been Kelsey, and that was putting him in the kind of mood where everything bugged him.

He’d known her fortwodays. How was it even possible that she was the first face he saw when he opened his eyes? That position had always belonged to Talia and Ari had panicked as he’d struggled for a beat or two to instantly recall her face.

She came – of course she came – but those confused seconds had been disorientating. And worrying. And guilt had once again taken hold. What if one day he just simply couldn’t recall his dead wife’s face any more?

Those thoughts had driven him out of the cabin. Out of the place where Kelsey’s face and her laughter and her moans waited for him in every corner.

Where theybeckoned.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he stepped into the passageway with his day planned out in his mind. First stop was the breakfast buffet and then he was going to do the rounds of the different restaurants, lounges and bars.

Minus the pool deck bar, of course. And not because of Kelsey but because he’d already checked it out a couple of times now and had made his notes on it already. He’d been pleased with how it was being run – his missing twenty euros notwithstanding.

Ari reached the mid-ship lift foyer and decided to eschew the elevator for the wide staircase connecting all the decks. Taking the steps two at a time to level fourteen, his heart was pumping a little harder by the time he pushed open the heavy door and stepped out onto the top deck.

A light breeze ruffled though his hair and he sucked in the sweet fresh air as he stopped at the railing admiring the endless stretch of sapphire water that was the Med. She was an undeniable beauty, the kind of blue that was hard to explain, and this sea was in his bones as surely as the Acropolis and Ouzo.

He pulled himself away – reluctantly – a few minutes later, following a group of people into the buffet. His mouth watered at the aromas wafting from the massive restaurant to the aft of the ship and his stomach growled in unison. He was absolutely ravenous.

Ari entered the restaurant and found his own seat, which was the way of buffet-style dining. The only problem with that was there was no staff member on the door with a pump container full of hand sanitiser offering it to passengers as was the practice in all the other dining areas of the ship.

Sure, there was a table at the entrance with a pump and a sign urging people to use it, but that wasn’t good enough as far as Ari – and the ship protocols – were concerned. Mandatory offering of hand sanitiser was one of the measures that had been instituted two years ago across all the ships in the fleet to reduce the incidence of gastroenteritis.

Studies had shown people were more likely to use the sanitiser if it was presented to them as a natural part of the seating process.

Another measure they’d actioned to stem outbreaks had been switching to a no self-serve buffet. It was protocol now for staff members to serve the requested food to passengers. This reduced the risk of cross contamination by people whose diligence with hand washing – particularly after toileting – was often subpar.

The buffet restaurant failed miserably in this department, which was concerning considering the weight of evidence pointing to cruise ships’ buffets being the major source for gastro outbreaks. Some staff members were good, politely insisting on serving the passengers, but most turned a blind eye to those helping themselves.

Ari made mental notes as he took everything in. It was going to be a long day, he could tell.

* * *

By three in the afternoon he was sitting at the piano bar on deck four, which was tucked away beside the Adelphi Theatre. There was him and a couple sitting in a booth near the piano, their heads close together as they listened to a middle-aged guy tickle the ivories. The atmosphere was more intimate in this establishment with a lot of wood and dark furniture but, thanks to light spilling in from the three large portholes behind the bar, it was saved from looking too much like a private men’s club.

The bulk of the day trippers hadn’t yet returned from shore and Ari was enjoying the lack of people as well as one of the fine cognacs on the menu. It was the perfect spot to make notes for his report, check in with Theo and deal with any urgent business that required his attention.

Also to think. Not about Kelsey – absolutelynotabout Kelsey. But to ponder things like the disparity in staff treatment between passengers of differing socio-economic backgrounds, which was still a source of irritation.

They couldn’t afford to have that kind of class system on their ships. They had exclusive cruises catering solely to very wealthy clientele, but this was an everyman kind of cruise and reputation was paramount. It was imperative that all passengers were treated with equal respect.

‘A penny for them, sir.’

Ari pulled his gaze away from the left-hand porthole, startled at the familiar voice.Kelsey. So much for avoiding her. It appeared, whether he wanted to think about her or not, the universe was just going to keep shoving her under his nose. This morning he’d been overwhelmed with how quickly she’d taken up his headspace. This afternoon he was struck by the wave of pleasure he felt at herwe-really-should-stop-meeting-like-thissmile.

She was in the formal uniform she usually wore in the dining room. The one she’d stripped out of in his room. Ari’s lungs felt too big for his chest as he batted down that particularly errant thought.

Concentrate, Aristotle.

---