Page 6 of Single Malt Drama

Marco climbed into the boat with me. “I’ll wait with you.”

“Thank you.” I seated myself on the bench and pulled the brim of my ball cap down.

“Any trouble getting away?”

Nodding, I said, “Giancarlo and a handful of bodyguards followed me to the beach.”

Marco sat beside me and slung his arm around my shoulders. The tension in his body seemed unnatural. He was normally the life of the party, laughing and telling jokes—dirty jokes.

“We have a good head start.” I nudged his side, desperate for him to tell me everything would be all right.

Scanning the area, he walked to the back of the boat. “I’m going to drop anchor. It’ll make this floating heap of wood look like it belongs here.”

“Okay.”

“Arrange the tarp over the front seats, like you’re drying it out.” His nervous energy was contagious. By the time Dante returned, I was ready to swim for the yacht.

No one spoke as we climbed aboard the smaller vessel and sped away, but both men swiveled their heads back and forth as if waiting for the kraken to rise up and devour us.

When we reached the yacht, Dante hopped out of the boat, took my arm, and hoisted me from the gunwale to the swim platform.

Maria and Alessio peered over the railing watching us. Unlike the brothers, they seemed to be enjoying their adventure. Both wore smiles as wide as the horizon.

“We have to hurry.” Marco moved behind me, placed his hands on my ass and all but lifted me onto the deck.

I arched a brow. “Was that entirely necessary?”

Climbing up after me, he gave me an exaggerated shrug, winked, and took my hand.

I glanced down, surprised by the gesture. “Thank you for coming. I didn’t know who else to call.”

“I’m glad I could help, but we need to get everyone out of the open.” He led us through an outdoor seating area into the sunroom with twin white couches and a large television. Next came the cockpit, with more seating and an impressive, yet simple, control panel.

The yacht was nice, but it struck me as odd the Marchionnis’ boat was so much smaller than my father’s. In fact, they seemed to live a much less lavish lifestyle than my family.

Alessio leaned closer to get a better look at the two computerized screens, a dozen switches, a steering wheel, and two silver joy sticks. “This is fancy.”

“Welcome aboard.” Dante offered the couple a quick smile before turning back to the screens. “You should get below before we get underway.”

I felt as if I should say something, but he hadn’t as much as glanced at me. “Thank you for your help.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Don’t mind him. He gets cranky if he’s away from his computer for more than an hour or so.” Marco grinned and elbowed Dante in the ribs.

“He has every right to be upset. I’ve put you both in danger.” The reality of the situation made my stomach hurt.

Shaking his head, Dante mumbled. “I wouldn’t have come along if I didn’t want to be here, but the sooner we leave the better.”

Marco set his hand on the small of my back and led us down a short flight of stairs into another seating area, galley, and a stateroom at each end of the boat. “Home sweet home for the next few hours.”

Maria and Alessio took in their surroundings. While both had worked for my father for decades, he’d never allow my nanny or his groundskeeper to go near any of his toys. Compared to the modest home they shared, the Marchionni yacht had to seem like a palace.

Marco pointed to a closed door. “Alessio, you and Maria can take that cabin.”

I turned to the couple. “You should wash up and get some rest. We have quite a journey ahead of us.”

They exchanged glances. Alessio wiggled his brows, and Maria blushed before they hurried into the stateroom and closed the door.

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