“Just Ru,” I lied. I was not giving out my real name to anyone on this boat. I couldn’t trust people I didn’t know.
The woman smiled prettily at me. “It’s so fantastic to meet you!” She stuck out her hand. “Cadence Sullivan. I’m the founder of Cadence.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You founded yourself?”
A hint of pink spread across her cheeks, and her smile slipped just slightly. “Of course not! No, my company,Cadence, makes a variety of female-empowering sex toys.” She spoke slowly, as if I were stupid. Or perhaps as if she wasn’t sure I grasped English.
I really shouldn’t fuck with her …
But it was just too tempting …
“Vhat is zis … toy … you speak of?” I asked, thickening my accent, my brow furrowed in confusion. “Vhy toys for sex? Vhen ze man and ze voman lie together to make the babies, zis is not a time for toys! Zey come later, vhen ze baby is arrived.”
Cadence’s increasingly perplexed expression almost made me break character. “No, not children’s toys! I mean … like the one you use in your videos.That’sa sex toy.”
“Really? Back home ve call zemustensile murdare de dormitor.” I pursed my lips to stop myself from cackling at her horrified look. “Dirty bedroom utensils.”
“Oh …” She rubbed her forehead. “Well, I’ve seen your content, and you seem to really know your way around your … ustensiles?”
I lost it, snorting out a laugh and nudging her in the ribs. “I’m just playing! They’re called sex toys in Romania too.”
Her upper lip twitched. “You really had me going there for a moment!” she said, trying valiantly to sound amused. I forced my expression into something a little less full of hilarity.
“I forget that not everyone has the same sense of humour as me.” I tucked my hair behind my ear. “And yes, I do know my way around my collection. Are you offering free samples?” I glanced down, but she didn’t seem to have any goodie bags. Damn it. I was always up for a new buzzing bestie, especially if it was free.
“You were asking to see me?”
Cadence and I both turned to the woman with the thick Slavic accent. I immediately recognised that long, honey-coloured hair and the unimpressed expression on her perfect face fromBikini Cove—a guilty pleasure reality show that Kat and I had binged last year.
“Ilya Ivanov!” I squawked. “The bestest, baddest bitch onBikini Cove!”
She looked at me like I was a piece of stubborn dirt under her fingernail. “Who the fuck are you?”
I blinked. Wow. Clearly her snarky TV persona hadn’t been an act.
“Ilya, this is Ru Snack—Ru—she’s a viral Tickle sensation!” Cadence interjected, while I struggled with an odd out-of-body feelingthat this person I had cheered on from our living room was an absolute cunt in real life.
Ilya’s eyes snapped back to me, roving my body with sudden interest. She smirked when her focus hit the hem of my very short black bodycon dress.
“Ah, yes … how is that new jewellery of yours coming along? Hurts like a bitch, I’ve heard. No silly little ‘watch me come but only from the waist up’ posts for you for a while.” She huffed out a sarcastic laugh. “Or I suppose you still can post them—it’s not like it’s hard to fake an orgasm when you don’t give your followers the proof.” She sniffed. “And I’d guess your followers would be gullible bottom-feeders.”
I saw red.
“Are you fucking for real?” I hissed, stepping closer. “No wonder every other girl in theBikini Covehouse hated your guts! You’re a sad, nastyscroafa, cutting another woman down to make yourself feel good.”
Ilya’s eyes widened, but almost as soon as I noticed, she was back to looking utterly disinterested in me. “If you can’t handle honesty, you really need to find a less … exposing … career.”
“Sugi pula! Fuck you and your fucking honesty! I have no time for people like you.” I turned to Cadence. “Whatever you wanted to discuss with me, it’s a ‘fuck no’ as long as she’s involved in the conversation.”
Cadence made a squeaking sound of protest, but I was already storming away. Ilya fucking Ivanov might be a stone-cold bitch, but I was a feisty Romanian who took zero shit.
And damn it, thesemama naibii de chilo?iiwere rubbing on my clit, and it was making me insane! I needed to find a bathroom and take them off.
“Can I help you?” a deep voice rumbled.
I scowled up at the gargantuan man who glowered at me, arms folded, with two little frown wrinkles between his eyebrows. “I just need a bathroom, you giant grouch!”
He pointed in the direction of a set of stairs towards the rear of the boat, his expression not softening one tiny bit. “I’d suggest while you’re down there, you take some time to calm down. Take a few deep breaths before you return to the party. I won’t tolerate abuse of any kind—including verbal—on this cruise.”
