River grinned. “Well, I’ve got plenty of ideas for you, but from what I’ve heard, Tickle is already a bit of a trailblazer in the space. That’s the reason I accepted the invite tonight.” His eyes met mine, and he nodded slightly.
I nodded back, pleased that he was aware of the eco initiatives that I’d driven within the organisation. Even the purchase of my floating home had been made following extensive research into hybrid yacht engines, green methanol, and hydrogen fuel cell technology. TheGirl on Firewas the greenest super yacht currently in production and had capacity for upgrades as technology and innovation advanced.
Atlas guffawed. “What, so porn stars in party clothes and freely flowing alcohol had nothing to do with your decision?”
River’s smile didn’t falter, but his voice was serious when he replied, “I make a bit of a habit of not stereotyping people based on how they make their money. I’ll happily have a chin wag with whoever wants to talk to me tonight, but I’m not here to ogle anyone on board.”
I found myself warming to the man, as Atlas’s face soured. “Well, enjoy. Bar’s over there. The lower deck, except for the toilets, is off limits, and …” The boat shuddered, the engine kicking into gear. “Yep, seems like we’re about to start our cruise of the Harbour.”
He clapped River on the shoulder, harder than was strictly necessary,and turned to me. “I’m off to objectify some porn stars. That Ilya Ivanov … she could tie me up and spank me any day of the week!”
I watched Atlas leave, already feeling exhaustion creeping into my veins.
“You look like this is the worst form of torture,” River remarked, gesturing around. The hum of chatter, thethump,thumpof the awful music. The press of people, their combined perfumes invading my nostrils …
“It’s close,” I admitted, taking another sip of ginger beer and trying to drag up some joviality to last me through the night. “I should probably go mingle.”
River nodded. “So should I. But Henry, I’d love a chance to sit down with you … in a less chaotic environment. I have a proposition I’d like to put to you.”
My insides chilled. Had I read him wrong? Was he a charlatan out to try and press his agenda with the naïve billionaire, using a good-natured exterior to shoulder his way past my defences? Or was he really as genuine as he seemed? We appeared to have a common interest in eco-innovation … It wouldn’t hurt to hear him out.
“Give my office a call on Monday,” I told him. “My PA will arrange a meeting time.”
With a final nod, I turned and walked headlong into the melee.
I didn’t last more than ninety minutes.
My head throbbed, my stomach churned, and if I had to smile at another stranger, I thought I might try to self-lobotomise. As liquor flowed and the yacht sailed into Sydney Harbour proper, everyone aboard got looser, and louder, and personal space meant less and less.
I’d managed to avoid any conversation with Cadence after that first, fraught one, but I had noticed her eyeing me with some expression that possibly could be interpreted as longing. Atlas’s little gold-digger jab might well prove right—the things she’d found unlovable about me six years ago were suddenly much easier to overlook when they came packaged up with my new net worth.
Anyone who was only prepared to put up with me for my moneywas not someone I should be giving the time of day to. Even if, once upon a time, I’d expected to spend forever with her.
I took one final look around the party. The foredeck was crowded with sweaty bodies gyrating to thedoof,doofof the raucous dance track. Atlas was in the thick of it, gripping wildly at the waist of the caramel-haired beauty who had air-kissed him earlier. That was Ilya Ivanov; I recognised her now from my background checks. She claimed to have been born in Belarus, but mysteriously, I hadn’t been able to unearth any information about her prior to her mid-teens, when she’d rocketed to stardom as a runway model. But perhaps Eastern European record keeping was lax. These days, she posted content of dominating men in a variety of kinky ways. I wondered if Atlas knew what he would be getting himself into if he did end up going home with her.
I staved off another pang of what I could only assume was disappointment that Irina Rusnac hadn’t attended. I found myself more than a little curious about what the real-life version of her would be like. People put on a face for social media, and adult content really required a mask. I wondered if the real Irina would have that same open face, the same easy smile and cheeky twinkle in her eyes that her on-screen alter-ego did.
Well, this had been my one opportunity to find out, and she hadn’t showed up. I sighed, backing towards the stairs. If I slipped away below deck now, I was positive no one would even notice I was gone. Everyone was well on their way to sloppy drunk. Well, everyone except Lucian, who was looming over the crowd on the foredeck, glaring around like they were all criminals and he was just waiting for them to slip up so he could throw them overboard.
I really hoped it didn’t come to that. The last thing we needed was TechRaker breaking a story about partygoers drowning at a Tickle function.
I escaped down the stairs before anyone approached, making my way through the living room and nodding at the uniformed security guard Lucian had placed on duty down here. Rubbing my temples, I headed for the bedroom and the medicinal cannabis in my bedside drawer.
I needed to take the edge off my agitation.
The door was still, thankfully, closed, because Trink and Abs werelocked in there, no doubt finding the vibrations coming from the ceiling bemusing. I could relate.
I pushed open the door, my foot ready to fend off two escapee cats. When there were none, my heart leapt into my throat. Someone had let my cats out. And with the chaos upstairs, who knew where they would be?
I surged into the room then jerked to a stop.
My cats were on my bed, affectionately nuzzling a woman. A beautiful woman, who was perched on the edge of the bed, one hand propping her up, the other absently scratching Abs’ chin. A woman with dark blonde hair falling like a curtain over her shoulders, twinkling blue eyes and breasts that practically spilt out of a tiny black, strapless, body-caressing dress.
My mouth fell open. Irina Rusnac had made it to the party after all.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” I blurted.
… the princess hadn’t seen her mother properly in months. Not since her father’s funeral. Whenever she tried to approach her mother’s rooms, a servant would scurry out and hustle her away with a hushed excuse.
