They’d reached stalemate.

Gianni had the strangest feeling of leaving his body and floating above and looking down on himself and Issy, hands clasped and reciting vows before the captain and growing number of crew come to see for themselves if the boss really was marrying the hustler. He watched himself sign the certificate where the captain told him to and watched Issy sign her name—her real name, Isabelle Christine Seymore—and the two witnesses sign theirs. Then he watched himself slide the paper ring over her finger and Issy slide the one she’d made for him over his finger, and continued watching with the same detachment while they kissed to seal their vows.

And then he re-inhabited his body as a flurry of handshakes and embraces were shared, the heavy beats of his heart rippling through him at the knowledge that the game of bluff he’d just played with Issy had backfired.

Issy popped two painkillers into her mouth with a shaking hand and washed them down with cold water. The after-effects of the champagne she’d drunk just a short while ago were making themselves known in the form of a headache. Or maybe the cause of it was the sudden loss of the adrenaline that had pumped through her in that mad hour that had ended with her married.

The amusement that had been carried with the adrenaline had gone too, reality as cold as the water she’d just drunk pouring over and through her.

She’d just married her nemesis. She hadn’t merely exchanged fake vows but signed legal documents. Signed them in her real name. The only saving grace was Gianni had failed to notice anything about her surname.

But what on earth had possessed her? What had possessedhim?

Amelia was going to kill her...

Oh, hell, she hadn’t thought of her sister in hours, had completely forgotten about her lost phone and that her sister would be waiting anxiously with her own phone in hand for an update. Shehadto find her phone.

Closing her eyes, Issy took some deep breaths to force a modicum of calm into herself. It was the middle of the night in London. Amelia wouldn’t be worrying; that was Issy projecting. Amelia would only worry if Issy went the whole of the next day without communicating. If her phone stayed missing, she would borrow one off the crew, search the main number for Rossi Industries and call Amelia through it. Her priority, she realised with a flash, was to tell the captain to destroy the marriage papers. If they weren’t lodged, they wouldn’t be properly registered, ergo, the ‘marriage’ would never be legalised.

These things decided in her mind, she expelled a more settled breath and called the captain. Told by one of his officers that he was currently unavailable but would call her back soon, she said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll speak to him first thing in the morning.’ They were in the middle of the Caribbean Sea. Nothing would be done with the papers before morning and Gianni was due soon to escort her to dinner. She needed to work out how she was going to play things.

It was a thought that set her heart thumping again.

How was she supposed to brazen thisout? Marriage.

Notmarriage, she told herself stubbornly. Just a joke, a game, whatever, that had gone a step too far. So long as the papers weren’t lodged, there would be no real marriage. She was safe.

Her head sorted and the painkillers kicking in, she decided the best thing to do was continue the joke and play up the marriage, so selected a slinky white fitted dress with spaghetti straps that came just below the knee and had a slit cut into its skirt that ran almost to the top of her thigh. For her feet she chose a pair of white spaghetti strap sandals to match. With her hair blow-dried into the illusion of thickness and her eyes painted a smoky grey, she finished the look off with a smear of red lipstick.

As prepared as she thought she was though, she still needed a moment to collect herself before answering the knock on her cabin door.

Gianni stood there, wearing the same polo shirt and canvas shorts that had been draped over his too magnificent body at various times throughout the day and with that devilish smile her brain hated but which her body adored on his too gorgeous face. ‘Ready for dinner, Signora Rossi?’

The longing that ran through her came close to making her legs collapse, and right in that moment Issy knew this had to end.

She couldn’t handle Gianni or her feelings for him. She wasn’t just in over her head, she was close tolosingher head. She’d married him for heaven’s sake! There was no way she could spend a whole week with him without losing her mind and probably the last of her self-respect. She had to trust that Amelia had done her part in the meeting that day and that their operation to destroy the Rossi cousins had reached the point of no return.

Because much more time spent with Gianni was going to push Issy to the point of no return.

She had to end this. Shewouldend this.

A modicum of peace settled in her wildly fluctuating heart.

She would get their marriage papers destroyed and this horror story would end as soon as they docked on whichever the closest island was. She would insist they go off and explore and then she’d give Gianni the slip and escape without him, even if it meant abandoning the yacht.

All she needed to do was brazen things out and hold him off sexually for a few more hours.

‘Si, signor,’she murmured, giving him a look of adoration that scarily needed no effort whatsoever.

He held his elbow out to her.

She didn’t hesitate to slip her hand through it.

His eyes gleamed. ‘I don’t know about you but I’m already looking forward to dessert.’

The crew had transformed the dining room into a silver and gold extravaganza. It never ceased to amaze Gianni how ingeniously creative they could be in catering to his whims, and also the whims he hadn’t even expressed. How they’d got hold of balloons, glitter and confetti and decorated the room accordingly would remain a mystery. He wouldn’t ask. Sometimes the mystery was enough.

The dining table, which could comfortably seat twenty people, had been laid in an L at one end, with Gianni at the head and Issy to his right. Romantic candles had been lit, the reflection of their flames dancing off the crystal chandelier above. The huge windows lining the left of the dining room added to the romantic ambience, the setting sun on the horizon turning the sky a burnished orange that made it appear to be on fire. It perfectly matched the fire taking place inside him.