He pulls the tissue paper out of one of the gift bags and throws it over his shoulder. “Hah!” He produces a bottle of whiskey. “I’m picky, and this is the only brand I drink.” He looks deep in thought. “Did you tell them that?”
I nod.
He’s practically glowing. “I didn’t think you ever noticed.”
“Of course I noticed. I even noticed little things like this when I still hated you.”
He makes a noise in his throat. “I suppose you were gathering information on how to kill me in a non-bloody way in that stage.”
“Exactly,” I laugh.
He puts on a look of exaggerated scrutiny and examines the seal of the bottle. “Doesn’t look like you asked them to poison it.”
He has the rest of his presents ripped open in the blink of an eye.
I’ve never seen him this happy, this boyish, this… light and innocent in my entire life. Before opening this door, I was looking forward to being tied up and doing whatever vile things Alessandro had in mind for me.
But this happiness is so much purer.
“You didn’t,” he growls, holding up a donkey figurine to match the ugly one I bought this afternoon.
“I gave him a friend.” I shrug.
“Ha.” The look of delight is back, and he gently sets it on the table next to the cake.
My eyes feel misty at all of this: how deep my feelings are for him, how sad I am for his childhood, and how happy I am in this moment. This night couldn’t be any more perfect. I clench my fists at my sides to calm myself down and clear my throat. “Cake?”
He scratches his head, glancing towards the bed. “Maybe after we…”
Seems reasonable to me.
I nod, and then he prowls over to our suitcases—he packed one filled with toys that we haven't cracked open yet—and throws it on the bed, opening it.
“So many options,” he mutters under his breath. He begins taking them out and putting them into various piles. I have no idea what system he has in his head, but I’m sure it makes sense to him.
“I’m going to go freshen up and let you keep… sorting.”
“Perfect.”
“Should I be afraid of whatever it is you’re planning?”
“Terrified.”
I giggle as I run into the bathroom and close the door behind me. The space is surprisingly roomy for being on a boat. I really needed some time to freshen up—we spent so much time walking around in the sun, and my hair is a wind-blown mess. But I wanted to close the door and gather my emotions. I haven’t even wrapped my head around finally getting along with him, and yet my chest is glowing, and I feel like I’m going to vomit, but in a good way. What does that even mean? When I look in the mirror, I barely recognize myself. It’s as if my eyes are a shade lighter and there’s a perma-smile underneath any expression I try to make in the mirror.
“Sofia?” His voice comes from right behind the bathroom door. “I think we should come up with a safe word.”
“W…what?” I can’t see his face, but I picture him biting his fist to stop himself from laughing. He could be saying this simply to get a rise out of me, or he’s serious, and I can only imagine what is going to happen to me tonight.
“That way I’ll know for sure if I went too far. I decided not to use the ball-gag for this exact reason.”
“Fine. Donkey.”
“Of course you would pick that.” His voice is far away the next time he speaks. “Come out of there completely naked or I’ll have no choice but to tear the fabric off of you.”
That sends a chill through my core. I hurry and get ready, the anticipation killing me. Once I’m washed up, my hair looks fine, my teeth brushed, and my sunburn somewhat concealed; I strip off my dress and then my bra and underwear.
I glance at myself in the mirror one last time before walking back out into the bedroom.
