Sage just laughs.“She’s better behaved than half the guests.Besides—” she tips her head toward Luke “—we’re in the middle of wedding planning, and apparently Buttercup’s already RSVP’d.”
Luke gives her a sidelong look that’s both affectionate and resigned.“We’re narrowing it down between the Amalfi Coast and a certain cliffside vineyard in Santorini.But after tonight, I have a feeling Sage is going to start a Pinterest board called Mediterranean Yacht Wedding.”
“Oh, I don’t need a board,” Sage says breezily.“I already know the menu, the floral palette, and the playlist.I just need to figure out how to keep the goat from eating the centerpieces.”
I’m still laughing as they move on toward the champagne bar, but the image of a glamorous yacht, champagne toasts, and a flower-crowned goat in the middle of it all sticks with me.
Eventually, I drift toward the quieter side deck, the music dimming under the rhythmic slap of water againstElysium’s hull.
A month ago, I was on my sister’s couch.
Now?I wake up in Roarke’s arms on theWest Wind.Living the nomadic life that my parents once started.
I’ve had breakfast in Portofino.Swum in Corsican coves.Danced on Cinque Terre beaches at midnight.
“Mia?”
I turn to find Saskia—yes,thatSaskia—looking uneasy in a designer gown that hangs haphazardly over her thin frame.It takes me a moment to recognize her without Ricardo draped over her arm.
"Saskia, hi.I-I…didn't expect to see you here."
“Oh.Yes, um, Connor, Ariana and I have some mutual friends.I just kinda slipped into an invitation.”
“I see.”
She fidgets with her champagne flute."I was hoping I might run into you, actually."
"Oh?"
"I wanted to apologize.For...you know.The whole situation with Ricardo."
I study her face, seeing something that looks genuinely contrite."You don't need to apologize.Ricardo made his choices."
"Yes, well, about that."Saskia takes a large gulp of champagne."Turns out you dodged a massive bullet.I certainly didn't."
"What do you mean?"
"We broke up two weeks ago.Caught him with a charter guest's wife in the galley of their yacht.Apparently, it's become a pattern."She laughs bitterly."The yacht company fired him on the spot, and the client husband went postal.He's basically blacklisted from the industry now."
I feel a surge of satisfaction that I try to keep off my face."I'm sorry that happened to you."
"Don't be.I should have listened when people warned me about him.Including you, probably, if I'd bothered to ask."She looks around the yacht, taking in the sights—the sea, the gleaming boat and sky."Seems like you landed on your feet though."
"I did."
"Is it serious?With the shipping mogul?"
Before I can answer, warm hands slide around my waist from behind, and Roarke's familiar scent—sea salt and warm cotton and sex—envelops me.
"Sorry about that,” he murmurs against my ear, pressing a soft kiss to my temple."Had to make sure our guests were settled properly with Mémé Ada."
"Roarke, this is Saskia," I say, leaning back against his chest."Saskia, my boyfriend, Roarke West."
"Pleasure to meet you," Roarke says with the kind of polite charm that probably takes years to perfect."Any friend of Mia's is welcome."
Saskia's eyes widen slightly as she takes in Roarke—all six feet three inches of Mediterranean-tanned billionaire boyfriend."I...yes.Lovely to meet you too."
"Saskia was just telling me about some recent career changes in the culinary world," I say innocently.
