Had last night affected Alexei as much as it had me? Would he be this distracted, maybe more?
Dangerous questions. They brought up images of our evening together. Annoying as his non-answers had been, the conversation had kept me interested. Later, he’d put that talented tongue of his to good use between my legs. No other man had ever done that. I never would have asked the guys I’d messed around with, I had been way too shy, and compared to Alexei they’d been mere boys.
Now he wasn’t shy with the way he offered the tour clad only in those skin tight shorts. They couldn’t conceal his excitement. No, he was all man, maybe too much for me, as Katie had told him.
An image of him clad in those shorts invaded my mind and had me twisting the hot water knob even higher. The burning water started to melt away the errant thought. Dangerous distracting questions indeed, but they also offered a weapon in Alexei’s desire for me. That, I could use against him.
The man wanted me to fall in love with him so he could steal me from my father. His plan didn’t require reciprocity, he had no need to fall for me to win. I knew his type, men who only cared about gaining and maintaining power. He saw me as an asset, a way to exact his revenge. It seemed to me he was more like my father than he was willing to admit.
All that was true about my captor, but it wasn’t the whole truth. Maybe, when he’d come up with his little scheme, he’d been beyond the trivialities of love, but he wasn’t anymore. He desired me, maybe even liked me, even though I’d been rightfully acting like a royal bitch to the man who’d kidnapped me. Still, he’d called me his worthy opponent.
Not love, not yet, but still a weapon, a way to distract him, to lure him into a false sense of security. Once he let his guard down, I’d slip away. Oleg said we’d be in port tomorrow. Unless Alexei was taking me to his own secluded little private island, it should be easy enough to get away, contact my father.
That realization of how I could use Alexei’s own feelings against him did little to give me courage. After my shower, I sat back on the bunk in my cell and flipped the television on.
It offered no channels to watch but connected to Alexei’s media center on the ship. Searchable by name, genre and even year of production, browsing the extensive catalog of movies and TV shows did little to distract my thoughts away from my captor.
Living with Katie, the aspiring dramatist, I’d watched more than a few of the classics. Alexei curated his collection with the greats: Wilder, Welles, Hitchcock and the rest. I startedNorth by Northwest. Watching Eva Marie Saint’s femme fatale go up against Cary Grant might offer some tips to use against Alexei.
My choice in movies proved to be the opening mistake on my first day aboard the ship. Every action Grant took, I compared to my captor and found the actor lacking. Like the itch of a mosquito bite, I tried to distract myself from the thought, but mental fingers scratched the itch.
As counterproductive as that was, the ending sealed the deal on why it was a bad choice. Suave, sophisticated and sexy in thatMad Mensort of way, Cary Grant always got the girl at the end of the picture. The screen clicked to black before they even got off Mount Rushmore. I’d seen too much already.
Men like that, men like Alexei, they expected things to go their way. If I conjured up a little Eve Kendall before she betrayed her employer for their enemy and married the man, I could exploit those expectations.
My stomach rumbled; another nudge for me to leave the confines of my cell, face Alexei after last night. I hesitated at the door and snatched a thin shawl from my open suitcase. With it loosely wrapped around my shoulders, I finally ventured outside my cabin.
The sun hung high above the boat. Craggy green peaks rose along the coastline in the distance. At least few miles of glittering blue sea separated us from land. A cool breeze had me cinching my wrap tighter before I climbed the stairs to the next deck.
The aroma of freshly baked bread joined the salty sea smell. I followed it around the balcony outside Alexei’s suite. The table we’d eaten dinner at sat at its back. The empty bottle of wine on top served as the only evidence of the delicious meal. I listened to my grumbling stomach and padded further along the balcony
The door to the lounge Alexei had showed off on the tour hung open. I peeked through. Alexei and Oleg stood at the pool table. My captor, his back to me, leaned over the table, cue in hand. He wore black shorts, though much looser than the underwear he’d given the tour in. Still, they tightened as he lined up his shot.
The bigger man faced me. His head nodded an inch when he noticed me. The cue ball cracked against another. Alexie rose and froze for a tick. Observant as he was, he wouldn’t miss the shift in his body guard’s attention.
“I see Sleeping Beauty has awoken,” Alexei said after spinning from the table to flash that slappable smile, “and it didn’t even take a kiss from a prince like in the fairy tales.”
“Did it take you all morning to think that up?” I snapped back but dropped my eyes, cheeks burning.
“Not all morning. We’ve started playing snooker after we ate,” he replied, and pointed to the bar opposite the pool table. “Are you hungry?”
My stomach sent my eyes that way before his arm moved. A long baguette sat next to half a loaf on the edge of a platter. Grape sized balls of fresh mozzarella were piled next to the bread. The creamy inside of half a bulb of burrata oozed next to the thinly sliced meats that took up the rest of the platter.
“If you’d like, you could play winner.”
Alexei’s words pulled me from the sandwich I’d just stuffed an obscene amount of spicy capocollo inside of. He waved at the pool table. The mansion back on Long Island had a pool room, two really. I rarely visited the one in my father’s wing, but spent a lot of time in the rec room about as far from my father’s office as possible in the building.
The table Alexei and Oleg played on appeared similar enough to the one I had at home, though larger. Every ball other than the cue was red though. Obviously not pool, at least not how I’d played it.
“I’d love to play Oleg at pool,” I said before pressing the top bread onto my sandwich.
“Pool is a children’s game, this is snooker,” he said, tapping the table, “but don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you, help you learn the rules before I beat you.”
“You wouldn’t want to face off against an unworthy opponent, would you.” A dry chuckle escaped after I spoke.
It was all part of his game of seduction. He’d spark my competitive nature with a match in an unfamiliar sport. If I asked for help, he’d gloat but happily comply. I could just imagine him behind me, arms on mine as he helped me line up a shot. The mental picture almost had me forgetting my sandwich.
Alexei turned back to the table before responding. His next shot sank one of the red balls, the one after the same. By the time I’d finished inhaling the sandwich, the last red ball had disappeared into the corner pocket. It clinked against the others inside it.
