Page 80 of A Girl and HER Prince
“Uh.” He tightened the sail. He still had no idea how to answer his father when it came to ruling. Would she want to move to his homeland? He wasn’t sureheeven wanted to do that. The thought of putting her in danger had him frowning.
The tone of their conversation had turned serious without him intending. She licked her lips. “What were those papers you took from your uncle’s office?” she asked.
“Bank statements, any damning evidence that will get whatever government officials I can find to take this seriously and track him down. He’s going to pay for what he did to my family…” his voice trailed off as he realized he’d gotten very personal with Livvy.
Her forehead was creased with sympathy.
In his effort to warn her off from this island, he’d inadvertently shared every traumatic thing that had happened to him—sure, in a very cynical, cold way, but how could he admit how he’d felt like he’d been drowning in pain when his stepmother was killed; how the grief was so unbearable that he’d turned off his feelings so that he could figure out a way to cope?
It had been easier to go numb; he’d been able to comfort the others better, protect them when he didn’t have his own grief choking him up. Better his family think he had no emotions to trample than to pile more burden on Bris, Achilles, Gina, his father.
And now his every boundary was slipping as he watched the tenderness run through her caring expression. More than ever before, he was tempted to share exactly how his past had ripped him apart.
How would she react to that?
He’d worked hard to cover up the real Venice—the part underneath that was scared, resentful, weak; pretty much worthless when it came to coming up against real, raw evil like this. That was the part that would crumble in the face of danger. And just like the infected wound in his stomach, he wasn’t ready to show anyone how ugly it was.
And yet, with her? It didn’t matter as much. Was it because she already knew? The way she watched him, it felt like she saw straight through him to his core.
He took a deep breath and tried to joke it off. “We can’t have my uncle getting in the way of our vineyard, Livvy.”
Her hand found his, and she squeezed his fingers. “He won’t.”
He drank in the serenity of her eyes, wishing that he knew the secrets of finding such inner peace. Did she just not know how bad the world was? Perhaps she felt no need to control everything around him, like he did. Either way, she was the tranquility in the midst of the storm and if he couldn’t steal what she had for himself, he’d hold onto her.
Water was starting to gather around their feet. He glanced down, his heart plummeting to his toes at this new danger.
Her hand went to her mouth before she met his eyes. “Can we make it to Crete?”
“Honey, I don’t know.”
She knelt down in the water, tugging their dripping bags of supplies out of the salty mess to rest them on the seats. The papers meant to take down his uncle were in there. He dug through the bags to find them while she waded through the water to pick up a bucket.
“We can start bailing.” She went to work.
Pushing the papers under his arm to keep them dry, he tried to find where the water was trickling in, but as soon as he saw the rivulets seeping in from all sides of the ship, he knew they were done for. His uncle wasn’t quite finished with his pet project—the jerk must’ve been too busy plotting his death.
Venice had to make a quick decision—keep bailing in the hopes they’d make it to Crete in one piece or take their chances back at the island. They were running out of time. “We have to go back, Livvy.”
He hated saying it, but her eyes met his, and she nodded. Neither of them could fight this.
His hand went to the rudder as he turned them back. “I’m so sorry,” he said.
“This isn’t your fault,” she said.
It is actually.
The wind wasn’t so keen to help them back this time. His only hope was getting to the breaker and into smoother waters, at the very least before the galley ship went down. Livvy bailed vigorously while he steered them closer to the coastline. She couldn’t keep on top of it. He tried to make up for it, moving back and forth to work the sails and the rudder.
Their lives depended on whether they made it back to the breaker. The water weighed them down and they drifted slower and slower in a sea that was turning rougher. His heart felt like it was jammed in his throat as he stuffed the incriminating pages into his uncle’s ledger and zipped it into the front pocket of his already wet windbreaker.
They’d need to find something to float on. The paddles were huge, probably five meters long. They’d need flotation devices. An instrument panel had been hidden in the deepest recesses of the boat. Would the life jackets be there too? Searching, he found no obvious hiding spots. The stowage was in the front. He ripped it open and found the orange life preservers. Good. Good! He threw his on, the same time he tossed her one and then began breaking off seats from the galley. They could use those as paddleboards.
He turned to her. “We need to jump away from this boat before it goes down. As far away from it as we can. You ready for this?”
She finished zipping up her lifejacket, gasping for breath as she steadied herself. “Yeah.”
“We have to stay together.”
