Текст книги "Reckless"

Автор книги: Devon Hartford

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

“Dinner is served!” Tiffany called from the dining room while someone clanged a hand bell.

The dining room table on the yacht only seated eight, so dinner was served buffet style. Stainless-steel food warmers covered the surface of the table. One of the crewmen in black and white, now wearing an ankle-length white apron, was pulling the lids off.

We all got in line and grabbed plates. While we waited at the back of the crowd, the other crewman, also in an apron, approached us with a platter brimming with gourmet finger-food.

“What is it?” I asked the crewman.

“Seared sea scallops in a tarragon butter sauce,” he said pleasantly.

We all took one while we waited for the buffet. Everyone agreed the scallops were totally yummy. Eventually, Christos and Jake joined us in line. The six of us loaded our plates and climbed up to the top deck together to sit down and eat.

“Wow, this is great food,” Jake said.

“Totally,” Madison said.

Even if Tiffany was an Olympic bitch, she knew how to pick out a great menu. I doubted she cooked any of it herself, but at least she had good taste, and the food was free.

Was it possible that I could enjoy this evening without Tiffany ruining it? I believed it was. I crossed my fingers.

While I chewed on a mouthful of crab cake, Kamiko leaned into me and whispered, “Don’t look now, but here comes the snake charmer.”

I looked up, straight into the eyes of Brandon Charboneau. He climbed the ladder onto the top deck, holding a plate of food and glass of wine.

“Greetings, everyone,” Brandon said smoothly, holding up his wine glass to toast us.

“What up, Brandon,” Christos said with a smile, raising his own glass. “I didn’t realize you were on board.”

“I was down in the boiler room shoveling coal into the furnaces,” Brandon joked.

Romeo smiled hopefully. “Did you have your shirt off and were you all sweaty from the exertion?”

Everyone chuckled.

“I’m afraid not,” Brandon said suavely.

Brandon’s father owned the gallery that had sold Christos’ latest paintings. Brandon was tan, tall, debonair, and very handsome, but there was something slithery about him that always bothered me.

Brandon slid into the end of the booth next to me and set his plate of food on the table. His knee brushed against mine and I jumped.

“Good evening, Samantha,” he said charmingly.

I felt trapped. But Christos was sitting on my right, in case of emergency. I glanced at him, worried he’d be irritated by Brandon’s proximity, but he merely chewed on a bite of lobster and smiled at Brandon.

I loved that about Christos. He never seemed to get jealous, unlike lame Damian, who always had.

Christos was an inspiration. I leaned into him affectionately and he reached over to caress my forearm. After smiling at me, he wiped his lips with his napkin, and gave me a smoochy kiss.

I was always tickled by how Christos worked the bad boy thing and the gentlemen thing in equal measures.

Brandon smoothed his own napkin on his lap and looked at everyone. “If I remember correctly, you’re Kamiko Nishimura, and you’re Romeo Fabiano? Did I get that right?” He flashed a warm smile at them.

“Wow, you remembered!” Kamiko smiled.

“Running the gallery requires that I remember a lot of names.” Brandon grinned and leaned over the table to shake her hand, then Romeo’s. I think Romeo swooned.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” Brandon said to Jake and Madison.

“Jake Stratton.” He and Brandon shook hands firmly.

“Madison Lockhart.”

Brandon shook her hand gently. “Charmed,” he smiled. Smooth as always.

“How’s the gallery, Mr. Charboneau?” Kamiko asked politely. I think Kamiko still wanted to make a good impression on Brandon, in case she ever wanted to sell her own amazing art through his gallery. And because Brandon was hot, even if he was a serpent in an expensive suit. Plus, I’m pretty sure Kamiko had a crush on him.

“Fabulous,” Brandon answered, “Ever since Christos’ sold-out show last year, new customers have been pouring through the doors on a daily basis.”

“That’s awesome!” Kamiko said.

“Christos tells me that you’re an artist?” Brandon asked Kamiko.

She blushed. “Sort of.”

“Kamiko’s amazing,” I said. “Don’t let her bashfulness fool you. Maybe you could sell her work at your gallery, Brandon. She’s totally good enough.”

“Sam!” Kamiko protested. “I don’t even paint in oils!” She blushed crimson, and I half-expected exclamation points to pop out over her head while her face turned cartoony like in one of her Japanese anime shows.

“Sam’s right,” Romeo said in a normal tone of voice, perhaps for the first time that night. “Kamiko really is hyper-talented.”

“Aww, thank you, Romeo,” Kamiko said.

“Perhaps you should stop by the gallery, Kamiko,” Brandon suggested. “Bring your portfolio. I’d love to see your work.”

“Really?” Kamiko beamed. “But all I have is watercolors.”

“We have an annual contemporary artists’ show that features all types of artistic media.”

Kamiko glowed hopefully. “Really?”

“Certainly. Call and make an appointment, anytime.”

“Wow! I’ll do that!” Kamiko smiled.

I was excited for her. Her art was amazing, and I still thought it would be a shame if she never did anything with it. I suspected that she didn’t love the idea of becoming a doctor with the same passion as her parents.

I was in a similar predicament with mine. They wanted me to be Sam Smith, CPA. But the last thing I’d dreamed of as a girl was becoming an accountant. At least Kamiko would help people and save lives. I would just end up pushing numbers around.

“Why don’t you submit a piece to the show, Samantha?” Christos encouraged.

“What?” I blushed. “I couldn’t! I don’t have any paintings!”

“Any type of media is acceptable,” Brandon said. “Whenever you’re ready, bring something down to the gallery for me to look at. The show is still a few months out.”

I looked at Christos, uncertain. I felt like I was getting in over my head.

“Don’t worry, Samantha. You can totally whip something up in time.” Christos flashed a first-place smile at me like we were both total winners.

He was so confident in me, it was almost impossible for me to doubt myself. My love for him grew every single day. Sometimes, it seemed to get bigger by the hour.

“Okay. I’ll do it!” I smiled.

“That’s my girl,” he said while rubbing my shoulder. “I totally know you’ll nail it.”

Maybe my New Year’s resolution needed to be finally going down to the Registrar’s Office in a couple of days to change my major to Art, no matter what my parents said, World War Smith be damned.

Everyone finished eating their dinners over chatty conversation. The food really was amazing.

“Anyone want to look around the rest of the boat?” I suggested.

“Totally,” Madison agreed.

“I can’t wait to snoop through Tiffany’s medicine cabinets,” Romeo said impishly. “She’s probably got lots of drugs.”

“I’ve got to hit the head,” Jake said, standing up.

“Make sure you don’t break it,” Madison quipped. “Tiffany’s toilet probably costs more than you’ve earned all year.”

Jake smiled at her. “If I win Mavericks this March, then I’ll have plenty of extra cash.”

“Dude,” Christos gawked, “did you finally get invited to surf Mavericks? Why didn’t you tell me?!” He flung his arms around Jake, clapping him on the back.

“Cool your jets, bro,” Jake laughed. “I’m number seven on the alternates list. Wanna go break some kneecaps, make sure I get on the invite list?” he joked. “We only gotta put seven guys out of commission, and I’m totally in.”

“Give me the list of names,” Christos smiled, “and I’ll make it happen.”

Everyone laughed while gravitating toward the staircase leading down to the main deck, except Brandon.

“Christos?” Brandon asked. “Do you mind if I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure,” he said to Brandon. To me he said, “I’ll catch up with you in a second.”

“All right,” I said. “Let’s go, you guys.”

I followed Madison, Jake, Romeo, and Kamiko down the ladder to the main deck, leaving Christos alone with Brandon.

CHRISTOS

Samantha waved at me as she and everyone else left the upper deck.

It was just me and Brandon.

We walked casually to the railing on the back of the upper deck and looked out at the open water.

As long as I’d known the guy, he was never what I’d call a true friend. My family knew his family and we did business together. I didn’t dislike the guy. But did I genuinely like him? It changed by the minute, depending on his agenda. He could be a decent ally one second, or that thorny thistle in your sock when you’re trying to run a marathon the next.

“Christos,” Brandon smiled warmly, holding up his wine glass, “I have to congratulate you, the sales at your first solo show were nothing short of astounding.” He clinked wine glasses with me.

“Thanks, man,” I said, sipping my wine, wondering where he was going with this. Brandon always had an angle.

“Now I’m getting calls from new buyers almost daily. Celebrity clients, famous collectors, many of them international. You’re hot right now, Christos. The influential buyers who dictate the art market want your paintings, and they want them now. How soon do you think you can have a new solo show ready? I’m confident we can double your prices from the last show, and sell everything.” Brandon’s eyes flickered dollar signs.

There was the angle. Me busting my ass to churn out new work. I had no doubt Brandon was in love with the idea.

I smeared my hand across my stubbled cheeks and sighed heavily.

Reality check.

This was exactly the same shit that had turned my dad from an artist into an alcoholic. He got caught up in catering to a bunch of rich shitheads who didn’t give a fuck about him. They just wanted to say they had an original Nikolos Manos hanging in their mansions. Almost like they wanted a piece of him, like his hand or his foot, spiked to the wall over their fireplaces like a human sacrifice.

Look, everybody, they’d all wanted to be able to say to their snooty friends, here hangs the body of Nikolos Manos, and I own it.

Shit. I could cut my own head off, have it mounted on a wood plaque, and have Brandon sell it for a hundred million bucks. I’d be the most famous artist in history for a stunt like that. All Van Gogh had to do was lose an ear. Imagine what my whole head would bring.

I sighed heavily.

“Let me know what you need, Christos,” Brandon said warmly, like he would do anything for me, like it wasn’t about the money, like all he cared about was little old me.

“Supplies?” he continued, “I’ll make sure you have whatever you need delivered directly to Spiridon’s house. Art models? I can call some modeling agencies up in L.A. and get you some fresh faces. Fresh faces always sell paintings.”

What I needed was a break from his sales pitch. It was making my head spin.

“But there’s one face I think you need to paint more than any other,” he said deviously.

I knew where this was going. “Yeah, who’s that?” I smirked.

“Samantha.”

I arched an eyebrow. I hated it when he called her Samantha. He knew I was the only one who called her that.

“I’ve said it before,” he continued, “you need your Mona Lisa, your Girl with a Pearl Earring. Samantha is that girl.”

Why did I get a bad feeling all of a sudden?

“I don’t think she’s going to want to sit for a painting,” I said.

Brandon scrutinized me shrewdly. I saw the dollar signs cash-registering behind his eyes.

“No matter,” he said calmly. “I’ll call L.A. We’ll find faces for you to paint. The main thing is that we keep your momentum going.”

I chuckled. “Gotta keep the animals fed.” Before they chewed my fingers off.

Why did I feel like the golden handcuffs of my art career had become a golden noose around my neck? Oh yeah, because my dad was a famous artist, and it tore my family apart and nearly killed him with drink.

Question was, would I be next?

Amend that. At this rate, with Brandon breathing down my back, the only question was:

When?

Man, I thought I’d had problems when my ass had been hauled to jail three months ago.

Turned out, the shit was just getting started.

I threw back my wine glass and emptied it in one swallow.

I needed another fucking drink.

Chapter 4

SAMANTHA

For the next few hours, everyone had a good time on the boat. The buffet on the dining room table was replaced with an elaborate collection of scrumptious desserts. Me, Madison, and Kamiko had eyes bigger than our stomachs and wanted to munch on each one. Fortunately, Christos and Jake were happy to gulp down what we didn’t finish. Romeo avoided the desserts despite his desire, citing the maintenance of his girlish figure.

We circulated amongst the people on board, and it turned out that not all of Tiffany’s friends were snooty bitches like she was. I had way more fun than I’d expected.

When the hour approached midnight, everyone gathered in the living room on the main deck.

Gold and silver balloons now decorated the room. Foil-covered letters reading “HAPPY NEW YEAR” hung from the ceiling in several places. People passed around bags of noisemakers containing classic paper blowout whistles, glitter-covered party horns, plastic knockers, and those plastic champagne-bottle confetti poppers.

I snagged one of the confetti poppers. They were always my favorite. Romeo grabbed two golden party horns and put them up to his nostrils.

“You don’t sneeze in them!” I joked.

He winked at me. “What do you mean, I thought that’s how you worked them!” He gave them a quick snoot-blast and they wheezed weakly. “That was lame. I think I need to blow harder.” He sucked in a big breath, ready to blow.

“No don’t!” Kamiko pleaded.

“Kidding,” Romeo grinned.

Madison and Jake had an arm around each other and were busy dueling with plastic clackers, laughing hysterically. They were so into each other.

Christos slid his arms around me. “Did you grab me a noisemaker? I totally want one of those air-horn cans.”

“You’re such a guy,” I smiled. “You always have to have the biggest, loudest thing in the room, don’t you?”

“That’s why I picked you,” he joked.

“Are you saying I’m big and loud?” I smiled.

“Loud maybe, but the only thing big about you is your heart, agápi mou.”

I gazed into his eyes. So blue, so precious. His exquisite smile widened over his even teeth. My body flushed with heat when he bit his full lower lip. I totally wanted to nibble on that lip myself. He leaned down for a quick kiss.

The two guys dressed in black and white circulated the main deck with trays loaded with champagne flutes.

Tiffany clinked a glass with a fork to get everyone’s attention. She was so party appropriate.

“Grab some champagne, everybody!” Tiffany cheered, “it’s almost midnight!” I’m pretty sure she’d been captain of the cheerleading squad in high school, based on her tone of voice and delivery. She probably carried pompons in her pockets at all times, in case of a cheer emergency.

Christos had his arm around my waist as the waiters came by and both of us grabbed a glass.

“Do we wait until midnight to drink it?” I asked him.

“Do whatever you want, agápi mou. There’s no right way to celebrate.”

I glanced around the room and saw some people sipping their champagne while others waited patiently. I decided to wait, like Christos was. Somehow, it seemed more special if we drank together at the stroke of midnight.

“Have you figured out what your New Year’s resolution is going to be, Sam?” Romeo asked.

“Oh, I don’t know, I hadn’t thought about it.”

“I know what mine is,” Christos purred.

“Do tell!” Romeo said. “I’m all ears!”

Christos nodded down at me. “She’s right here.”

I frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“I totally do,” Romeo said confidently. “He’s going to do you for the New Year’s, riiiiight, Christos?”

“Romeo!” I blurted.

When Christos chuckled, I swatted his arm. “Stop!”

Christos only laughed. “He said it!”

Christos and I still hadn’t had sex yet, but geez, did Romeo have to make a national headline out of it? SAMANTHA SMITH, LAST COLLEGE VIRGIN IN AMERICA. I pictured those grainy grocery store gossip magazine photos of me and Christos running shamefully from the paparazzi cameras.

“Don’t be bashful, Sam,” Madison said. “It’s no big deal.”

I rolled my eyes. “Easy for you to say, Mads. You and Jake probably—” I stopped myself short.

“What?” Madison giggled.

“You know,” I wiggled my head and arched my eyebrows. “Do…it,” I said bashfully.

Why did I feel so shy about sex all of a sudden? Maybe because I sensed that in the not too distant future, I would be having it for the first time myself, with the man I loved. I shivered pleasurably at the thought.

“Isn’t she cuuute?” Romeo said in a gooshy baby-talk voice. “Widdle Samanfa is going to turn in her V-card for the New Year!”

A group snicker from Madison, Jake, Romeo, and Kamiko ensued at my expense.

Why did the phrase “turning in your V-card” always make me picture an NFL referee in striped black and white, blowing a whistle? TWEEEEET!!! Both the ref’s arms go up over his head. “The kick is good! Samantha Smith is no longer a virgin!” And why was it a kick? Like I laid on the football field, on my back, waiting for the kicker to wind up before ramming his cleated foot home between my legs?

I shuddered to myself.

Wasn’t there a better term for it? Like, “Hosting a V-Pageant Celebration?” I mean, “Turning in your V-card” was about as romantic as “Winning the Megafucks V-stakes Sweepstakes Giveaway.”

I shook my head, trying to clear that nasty thought. The next thing I knew, I was imagining Christos and I naked in bed together in a more traditionally romantic fashion. My heart accelerated and my entire body flushed with electric heat. I wanted to fan myself, but opted instead for blinking away my steamy fantasy. No need to call more attention to myself.

So why was the gang grinning and staring at me? Were they reading my mind, or what?

Normally, I indulged in my bedroom fantasies about Christos privately. Not with my best friends scrutinizing me with expectant smiles. They may as well have been surrounding my bed while Christos and I finally did the deed.

I suddenly pictured Romeo holding up a scorecard like a figure-skating judge when Christos and I shared our first mutual orgasm. He would say, “Was it good for you two? Because I know it was good for me!”

I grimaced.

“What?” Christos asked innocently.

I choked out a laugh. “Oh, you so don’t want to know.”

“Oh, we so do,” Romeo chided.

He would. All eyes were still on me. I desperately needed a distraction. Now would’ve been the opportune moment for our yacht to hit an iceberg. Unfortunately the waters off the coast of San Diego were generally iceberg free, from what I understood.

“It’s almost midnight, you guys!” Tiffany cheered. “Get ready for the countdown!”

For the first time since I’d met her, I could honestly say to myself, thank god for Tiffany.

“Ten, nine, eight…” Tiffany started.

The crowd joined in.

“Seven, six,…” everyone chorused.

I glanced up at Christos. The warmth in his eyes wrapped around me as he pulled me into his rock hard chest.

“Five, four…”

Christos leaned down, his lips loose and plump, about to kiss me…

“Three, two, one…”

The universe disappeared as our lips met and we plunged into each other. Heightened by the moment, it was possibly the most intense kiss I’d ever experienced.

“Happy New Year!!!” everyone shouted. The horns and whistles blew, the noisemakers clacked, and the champagne-poppers popped and shot confetti around the room, all while balloons burst and the entire room cheered in 2014.

I was nearly lost to the sounds around me as Christos deepened our kiss, submerging me in an ocean of love. He consumed me, taking my soul into his. I let him devour me entirely with his lips. I gave all of myself to that kiss, and he felt it. His hunger for me was palpable. His tongue teased the tip of mine. My heart raced and my pulse pounded from my head to my toes. I ran a hand down the thin sweater material covering Christos’ rippled abs. I grabbed his belt and pulled him toward me. I wanted him. Right now.

His tongue slid deeper into my mouth.

Oh my goodness…

Oh my Christos…

The fact that I felt a bulge in his jeans pressing into my taut stomach may have had something to do with my intense desire. Heedless of the chaotic crowd around me, I was coaxed by sudden lust to release my grip on his belt and slide my fingers down between his washboard abs and his pants while we continued our kiss.

Although our passionate kiss nearly held my full attention, something else tugged at my awareness. My fingers were now officially submerged in uncharted waters. My hands had never been this close to Christos’…

The signals tingling through my fingertips were like sonar messages that sent hazy mental images to my brain. My hand dove deeper and I caressed my fingers along a rigid velvet submersible.

Oh.

I wasn’t at all prepared for it.

Apparently, neither was Christos. He spasmed and sucked in a hissing breath, but our lips remained locked.

A distinct visual impression penetrated my brain, igniting my core with desire.

In a word: massive.

Not that I had much experience in this department. Beyond my recent but brief brushes with fate and Christos’ manhood, my only frame of reference in the touching department had been picking out mammoth bananas or ripened cucumbers at the grocery store, or maybe squirreling up tree trunks as a little girl, because that was how huge he seemed to me.

I giggled to myself, realizing that sandwiched in the middle of the word cucumber was the word cum. Whoa! I was turning into a female Romeo!

I withdrew my hand from Christos’ pants with exquisite slowness, sliding it back up the bottom of his chiseled eight-pack. His feathery hair down there tickled my fingertips. That sensation alone caused my entire body to quiver in Christos’ arms.

After my pleasant shudder passed, I peered up into his ravenous eyes. I was so ready for him to devour me…

But we were on Tiffany’s yacht, surrounded by revelry and my closest friends. My V-card would have to wait. I reluctantly broke off our kiss and snuggled my cheek into his chest. I slid my hands around his waist and caressed his back. “I love you,” I whispered. I was sure my words were lost in the din of everyone’s shouts and all the strident noisemakers.

Christos kissed the top of my head. “I love you too,” Christos whispered. “Happy New Year, agápi mou.”

I stared up into his loving eyes.

“Did you make a New Year’s resolution?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said quietly.

“Care to share?”

I squinched up my face timidly. “Not at the moment?”

“Aww, come on. Just a tease? I’m dying to know.”

“Let’s just say…” I grinned, “…it has something to do with hosting a pageant.”

Christos’ smile widened and his dimples appeared.

I stood on my tiptoes and licked one dimple, then the other, before pecking him softly on the lips.

I was desperately in love with this man.

I sighed contently. This was the best New Year’s Eve I’d ever had. Nothing could ruin it.

My 2014 was going to rock, I was certain of it.

I was so swept away by the moment, I almost completely missed the double-dagger glare Tiffany was giving me.

SAMANTHA

The New Year’s celebrations were in full swing.

It turned out there were audio speakers hidden all over Tiffany’s yacht, so when someone cranked up the party mix tunes, every flat surface on the ship became an impromptu dance floor.

Christos and I were on the wooden deck on the top floor of the boat, dancing like lunatics, laughing and gyrating under the moon and stars.

Romeo and Kamiko climbed the stairs, drinks in hand, and danced next to us.

“You guys are so cute together,” I said to them sarcastically.

“Too bad it feels like dancing with my sister,” Kamiko joked.

Romeo planted a big fat sloppy kiss on Kamiko’s cheek. “I’m the big sister you wish you had, dearest.”

“Gross! You kiss like a fish!” Kamiko cried. “Aren’t there any available gentlemen on this boat?”

“Here comes one now,” Romeo mumbled as Brandon walked up the stairs. “Where’s your date, Brandon?” Romeo asked suggestively.

Brandon chuckled. “I came stag.”

Romeo leaned over to me and whispered, “I’d love to bag his stag. It is rutting season, isn’t it?”

I giggled into the back of my hand.

“Here,” Romeo said, “I’ll let you dance with my date.” Romeo grabbed Brandon by the hand and practically threw Kamiko into his arms.

“Romeo!” Kamiko blurted, tripping over her heels. Her dress spun as Brandon caught her and twirled her smoothly, swing style.

“Do you mind if I have this dance?” Brandon asked without missing a beat.

“Uhhh…” Kamiko was wide-eyed with embarrassed excitement.

Brandon led while Kamiko fell into step with him. They were actually quite good together, although Brandon towered over her.

Kamiko flashed me and Romeo a look of stark disbelief. She silently mouthed the words, “I can’t believe I’m dancing with Brandon!”

“Thank me later, darling,” Romeo smiled. Turning to me and Christos, he said, “May I have this dance?”

“Huh?” I said. “You want to dance with me?”

“No, you crazy loon! I want to dance with your boyfriend!”

“Why not,” Christos chuckled.

Before I could object, Christos grabbed Romeo around the waist and led him in a circle like a ballroom dancer.

“Squueeeeee!” Romeo cried as his eyes fireworked with delight.

Christos laughed and released Romeo after a couple of good-natured twirls.

 Romeo literally sagged to a sitting position and pooled on the deck. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven, Sam.”

Everybody laughed, even Brandon.

“I think I need another drink or six,” Romeo said, pushing himself to his feet. “Help me Sam, it’s the least you can do after stealing the hottest man on the planet from my greedy grasp.”

“We’ll be right back,” I said to Christos.

“No worries,” Christos said. “I may have to cut in on Brandon in a second. He’s having a bit too much fun with Kamiko.”

Kamiko goggled with girlish glee.

“They’re fighting over you, Kamiko,” Romeo said. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

I followed Romeo down the steps to the main deck. We walked over to the kitchen where fresh drinks were being poured. I got a refill on my champagne, but Romeo wanted a mixed drink. I think it was an excuse for him to flirt with the guy in black and white tending the bar.

I walked to the back deck on the main floor to enjoy the view.

I didn’t know how far we were from shore, but I saw no lights whatsoever, not even the glow of city lights over San Diego. Only the stars above glinted on the vast ocean surrounding us.

After a time, I decided to find everyone inside. I turned around and nearly bumped into Tiffany as she was walking out of the main cabin. “You,” she sneered. “Why can’t I ever get rid of you?”

My stomach twisted ominously. “Hey, Tiffany,” I said, trying to sound friendly, hoping to set her at ease.

She glared in response.

Ooooh-kaaaay. I wasn’t sure what to say. “Um, this is such a great party, Tiffany. And you really have a beautiful boat.”

“It’s a yacht,” she corrected.

“Well, it’s really nice. And dinner was nice too. Everything was totally yummy.” I flashed a nervous smile.

“What is it with you?” she hissed.

“Huh?” I was confused. How did she manage to always make me feel like an insignificant idiot, no matter what happened? I think it was her super power.

“Why did you have to come along and ruin everything?” she snarled.

“What, I didn’t—”

“First Christos, then Brandon.”

“I’m not with Brandon,” I said defensively.

“I see the way he looks at you,” she leered.

“I’m not interested in Brandon. I’m with Christ—”

“You think you’re all that, you stupid bitch?” she snapped, interrupting me.

Bitch…

She continued her tirade, “Coming into my world and glomming onto Christos? You think it’s that easy? You’re fucking wrong, you dirty slit.” Tiffany had the fangs out now. “I’m sure you gave it up to Christos the day you met him, just like every other slut has.”

Slut…

“That’s not true—”

She cut me off dismissively. “That’s all he wants from you, or any of them,” she hissed. “Because that’s all you have to give. Just your skeevy, skankish, poorhouse cunt.”

I held in my gasp. Tiffany was drunk. I wasn’t playing into her torrent of insults.

“I’m the only one good enough for Christos,” Tiffany slurred. “He’s not going to stay interested in you for long.” Tiffany held her glass of champagne in her hand and extended an accusatory finger at me. With each sentence she thrust her hand forward, causing champagne to slosh inside the glass. “As soon as he’s had his fun with you, and I can tell you’re nothing more than a slimy slutcrack so it won’t take long, he’s going to move onto the next one, and the next. Until he finally figures it out.”

Figures what out? I wondered.

“Sooner or later,” she sneered, “the game will get old for Christos, and he’ll end up with me, where he belongs. Not. You.” She jabbed her glass on her final words and champagne spilled over the rim.

The grim mask of despair on her face was horrid. I’d never seen her so ugly. Her sweaty drunkenness and smudged makeup made her look even worse. She scowled at me, but I detected more than anger brimming beneath her contorted features.

It was obvious that frustrated desire was torturing Tiffany to her soul, but I didn’t think the anguish of unfulfilled love was what ate away at her. It was her greed, her lust for the one thing she couldn’t have.

Not having Christos was killing her.

Tiffany swayed lazily and a final dribble of champagne splashed onto her shoes. “You ruined my shoes, you boorish whore.”

Whore…

I wasn’t going to let her get to me. Tiffany wasn’t going to take me back to my past.

Bitch. Slut. Whore…

I was stronger than her. Tiffany was pathetic.

She curled her lips and said, “These Louboutins cost more than your car, you asscap. Get off my boat.”

“What? We’re in the middle of the ocean!”

“You heard me, get off my boat!” She lunged at me.

I sidestepped.

Tiffany stumbled into the handrail. “Oof!” She folded over the metal bar and almost went over edge.

I grabbed for the back of her dress. “Tiffany! Watch out!” If I hadn’t caught her, she would’ve fallen and face-planted on the transom deck at the back of the yacht, eight feet below.

“Let go of me, you cunt!” She spun around and slapped me in the face.