Poppy’s smile tightened.“It would be, but Brad’s babysitters”—she jerked her chin toward the agents at the bar —“have a habit of confiscating people’s phones and smashing them to pieces.It didn’t take too many instances for word to get around, so now we enjoy our privacy.”
Omar was fairly certain she wasn’t enjoying it at all and would have much preferred the notoriety that came with dating the maverick son of the second most powerful man in the world.
After the initial awkwardness, Poppy kept the conversation flowing, Lucia kept the drinks flowing, and the Secret Service agents kept a close eye on the three couples from their perch at the bar.
At some point, Idris decided they should give up their respective tables in the dining room.His guards arranged for the chef to create a tasting menu and for their meal to be served in the bar.It was a generous gesture, but Brad visibly chafed at Idris’s taking charge.Omar filed this fact away as leverage to be applied later, if needed.
During the dessert course, Poppy wanted to switch seats with Omar so she could more easily chat with Marielle and Hanna.
As Omar slid into the vacant chair, he joked to Brad, “Don’t worry.I won’t climb onto your lap.”
“Not that kinda party, huh?”Brad slurred.He was propping his head up with his fist and was struggling to keep his eyes open.
Omar turned his attention to Idris.“Is the boat you’re traveling on?—?”
“Yacht,” he corrected.
“Is the yacht you’re traveling on a local charter?”
Idris scoffed.“No, it’s my private vessel.”
“His father’s,” Hanna whispered behind her hand to Marielle.
Idris appeared not to have heard her, but his tensed cheek muscles and clenched jaw told a different story.
“That’s smart.Oh well, I was hoping you could recommend a reliable charter.”
Poppy arched a brow.“You didn’t make arrangements before you flew all the way from Canada?”
“No, no, we did,” Marielle assured her.“But the boat’s been delayed in Santorini, and we just don’t know if they’ll find a replacement.”She sighed, then pouted prettily.“It’s okay, though.As long as I’m with Oscar, this will be the best trip of my life.”
Hanna and Poppy ‘awwed’ in unison.
Idris was less enchanted.“Nonsense.I have plenty of room on myfamilyyacht,” he declared, giving Hanna a dirty look.“You’ll travel with us to Marseille.”
“Oh, we couldn’t—” Marielle began.
“You must,” Hanna insisted.
“Pleeeease?”Poppy grabbed both of Marielle’s hands.“Margaux, it’ll be so much fun!”
“Yeah, these two are fun,” Brad mumbled.“Unlike the buzzkills.”He waved an arm in the general direction of the Secret Service agents, who’d moved to the table Omar and Elle had vacated.Their expressions didn’t change, but their eyes hardened.Not, Omar thought, because of the inebriated insult.No, they were assessing him and Marielle, apparently not entirely convinced that they were who they said they were—wealthy Canadian newlyweds on a romantic getaway.
“There.It’s settled.”Idris smiled.
“That’s very kind of you,” Omar said.“Thank you.”
Mission—strike that, step one of the mission—accomplished.
6
The yacht’stender cut through black water.As the small boat bounced over the waves, its running lights bobbed in the darkness.Overhead, the sky was a riot of bright, shimmering stars that outshone the silver sliver of moonlight.Ahead, The Fakhar waited.
Seaspray misted Marielle’s face as she clutched the rail and stared at the massive vessel.Sleek and brightly lit, it looked like a floating fortress.
“There she is,” Idris announced unnecessarily.He stood on one side of Marielle, casually gripping an overhead bar for balance.
On her other side, Omar leaned against the railing, one hip bumping up against her.
