Twenty minutes later, I board my yacht to find what can only be described as controlled chaos.
The crew is gathered on the main deck, some laughing, others looking vaguely traumatized.Captain Martinez is nowhere to be seen, which is never a good sign.
"Claire!"I call."What the hell happened?"
She appears from the salon, blonde hair slightly disheveled."Well, Captain Feathers somehow got into the main salon and decided to...redecorate."
"Redecorate how?"
"See for yourself."
I follow her into the salon and stop dead.Every single piece of white furniture is now decorated with tiny green footprints.
The coffee table has been turned into what appears to be an obstacle course using couch cushions and decorative bowls.And standing in the middle of it all, covered head to toe in what looks like green paint, is Mia.
“Claire, it’s really not that—“ She’s covered in paint, her thick dark hair covered in streaks of neon.Her brown eyes dim when she sees me.“Oh.Mr.West.”
I take another step closer, heart hammering.“Yes.Mr.West.Now, where the hell is Isla?"
"Oh, she's fine.She's in the galley with the cook, learning how to make bird-safe cookies for Captain Feathers' reward training."
"Reward training?"
"Well, we figured if he's going to redecorate, he might as well learn to do it artistically."
I look around the destroyed salon."This is artistic?"
"Abstract expressionism.Though I think Captain Feathers leans more toward chaos theory."
As if summoned by his name, the bird swoops down from somewhere above, landing on Mia's paint-covered shoulder.
"PRETTY BIRD ARTIST!PRETTY BIRD PICASSO!"
"See?"Mia grins, and despite the paint and the chaos and the complete destruction of my salon, I feel something spread on my face.
Feels like a…smirk.
"He's developing his artistic voice,” Mia explains.
I stare at her.
Paint-covered.Cheerful.Completely unfazed by the disaster surrounding her.
The woman’s all over the place.Unpredictable.
Which is exactly why Mia Rossi is going to be a problem.
"Claire," I say without taking my eyes off the paint-covered nanny, "cancel my afternoon meetings.Apparently, I need to have a little chat with Miss Rossi here about abstract expressionism."
4
DOCKSIDE DIRTY THOUGHTS
MIA
The afternoon Mediterranean sun bakes a path through the salon's windows, highlighting every single green paint splatter that Captain Feathers has drip-dropped across Roarke's yacht—theWest Wind’s— pristine white furniture.
There’s a crew, of course.But I don’t get them involved.
