I’ll need to talk to her about that kiss. There’s no avoiding it now.
Four . . .
Apologize first. Come right out with it so that nothing has to be awkward.
Three . . .
Fuck me, why are my palms so sweaty?
Two . . .
Okay, she’s almost here. I’ll give her a quick apology and tell her it won’t happen again.
One . . .
Unless she wants it to. But surely not, right?
The elevator lands with a gentleding, and the doors glide open. All thought leaves my head as she steps out of the elevator and smiles up at me, dripping in that gorgeous hunter-green velvet.
“You’re stunning,” I say as I offer my hand.
“Aren’t you glad you gave me that extra twenty minutes?”
“Ach, you didn’t need it.” I give her the spin I denied her when she wore the purple dress, and her grin widens. “It’s a lovely color on you.”
“I hear it’s your favorite.” She gives me a cheeky smirk and pulls me toward the others near the lobby doors.
“I never told you that.”
“Oh, look. There are the girls.” She releases my hand and flutters toward the group before I can press her further.
As we approach, I’m pleased to see Jim got the word out in time. All the men—aside from him and King—are dressed in black long-sleeved dress shirts and pants. It was the only way I could make Quinn’s meeting with Green Guy possible. There won’t be time to rush back to the resort to change into the green suit, so I needed to make sure I could at least blend in with everyone else. The long sleeves cover the tattoos, the gloves in my pocket will cover my hands, and Jim has assured me a mask will be waiting for me at the circus tent.
But instead of heading toward the circus tent, Jim explains there’s been a change in plans and we’ll be having dinner first. Quinn’s gaze leaps to mine.
“Not to worry,” King says when he spots the nervous look in her eyes. “You and Aven will join Chef in the kitchen, and you’llmonitor the preparation yourselves.” He places a firm hand on her shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “We won’t risk your health.”
That seems to settle the girl, though it doesn’t settle me. This just puts more time between now and when I get to ravage her. I was more than eager to play Green Guy and slip into the role she prefers. Now I have to spend even more torturous time looking at her in this dress when all I want to do is rip it off her.
We follow the group into the park. The sun dangles on the edge of the horizon, dancing on twilight. A full moon already hangs nearby in preparation for the night to come. Thoughts of Quinn’s skin painted by that haunting glow have my blood racing already.
The night I snuck the phone into her room, I secretly stole a trophy for myself—the smutty book on her nightstand. I flipped through it a bit, and I was intrigued by one particular scene where a masked man chases his love interest through a forest before fucking her into the dirt. Quinn really seems to like these stories, and I think I might like them a little myself. They’ve certainly given me some ideas, and the moonlight only fuels my fire.
Jim and King lead us to Jeff’s Grand Dining Hall, which is named after Jim’s absentee son. The restaurant is themed after a grand castle dining room, with large wooden tables placed end to end. Wrought-iron chandeliers hang from the ceiling, providing moody lighting. As everyone else takes their seats around the tables, Quinn and I head for the kitchen.
This is nothing like the ship’s pristine silver galley. Black metal and dark woods prevail here. Even the workers don black attire, so it’s no shock when Chef Maurice starts screaming at me.
“Where is my lamb? I can’t be expected to make a meal when my protein is nowhere to be found!” He pulls off his black chef’shat and throws it on the floor. “I can’t work under these fucking conditions!”
“Hold your tits, pal,” I say. “We’re just here to make something for the lass to eat.”
He blinks and realizes I’m not one of his do-boys. “My apologies. The pantry is that way.” He points toward a large metal door. “Please don’t fuck my poultry. Or fruit.”
Quinn looks up at me, but I just pat the small of her back and urge her forward.
“Long story,” I whisper. “I’ll tell you all about it later.”
We enter the pantry, and Quinn starts picking through the ingredients. When she’s done, she takes them back to the kitchen and sets them in front of Chef Maurice.
