“Tell that to that bitch Ilya Ivanov, then! She’s the one?—”
The man gripped my arm, steering me towards the stairs, away from the crowd. He was so large and so strong that I had no chance to fight him off. Nerves swirled in my stomach.
“Ilya Ivanov isn’t the one screeching obscenities on my employer’s boat.” He stopped, swinging me around to face him. “Have some fucking decency.”
“Ooh, some ‘fucking’ decency, huh? Will youremployermake you wash that filthy mouth out with soap now?”
He rolled his eyes, releasing me. “Just go get yourself under control. If you make another scene, it won’t be the toilets I’ll escort you to, it’ll be overboard.”
Turning, he strode back in the direction of the chaotic dance floor without another word. I flipped the bird at his retreating back and stormed down the narrow stairs.
“Takes his job far too fucking seriously. What a douche kayak!” I muttered, reaching the bottom and glancing up. “Holy … this is fuckingwild!”
The living room I found myself in was bigger than my entire apartment. A giant, plush grey sofa ran along one wall, windows behind it revealing a glittering panorama of Sydney Harbour at night. It was covered with soft cushions in a variety of blues and greys. The coffee table was glass with stacks of books on a shelf underneath. A modern metal and glass dining setting sat up one end, framed by a small but luxurious kitchen, and a small hallway where a security guard stood, dressed just like the cranky bastard upstairs.
He noticed me and immediately headed into the hallway, clearing his throat awkwardly.
“Time’s up!” he barked, rapping on a door. “People are waiting.”
A muffled, feminine moan erupted from the other side of the door, followed by a deep grunt. I muffled a smirk behind my hand. What would Mr ‘Have Some Fucking Decency’ have to say about people joining the … what even was the super yacht equivalent of the mile-high club? … in his ‘employer’s’ guest bathroom?
“I’m not kidding!” the guard growled, hammering on the door. “Get yourselves out of there!”
I turned away, drawn back to the beautiful room and the stunningharbour views beyond the lounge. “Must be nice making a fortune off other people having sex,” I murmured. My eye caught on another hallway at the opposite end of the room. I didn’t even need to pee; I just needed to whip off these panties, and then I could go drink enough vodka to forget that Ilya Ivanov was a first-class bitch.
Why did celebrities have to be so consistently disappointing? Maybe I wouldn’t try to approach River Riley when I got back upstairs, just in case he wasn’t a wholesome little golden retriever puppy after all. I didn’t needthatbubble burst tonight.
I ducked across the room and into the darkened hallway as the security guard continued to snarl threats at the wayward bathroom fuckers. There was a door at the end. Not sure if I was supposed to be there, but just wanting the overstimulating panties off, I reached for the handle and slipped inside.
“Meeeoooow?”
I stopped in my tracks, blinking. Looking down, two sets of eyes glowed eerily up at me in the dim light. Fumbling along the wall until my fingers found a light switch, I flicked it on.
“Well!” I crouched down, panties temporarily forgotten, to inspect the two cats peering expectantly at me. “Whatever I thought I might find in here, it wasnotyou two!”
They meowed plaintively at me, and the larger of the two, a fluffy, scruffy-looking orange monstrosity, rubbed its squished face against my leg.
“Aww, you’re sort of adorable, you big, ugly thing!” I cooed, reaching out to scratch between its ears. It purred loudly. The other—a Siamese, I thought—strutted away, leaping up onto the …
“La dracu! That’s onegiantmotherfucking bed!” I scooped up the smoochy ginger fuzzball and carried him into the room, finally looking around. This must have been the owner’s suite. Who was the grumpy fuck’s employer? Had this boat been hired by Tickle for the night? Or was it owned by them? Who evenwerethey?
The bed was easily bigger than a King, decked in more of the muted blues and greys from the living room. It was sleek and ultra-modern, but the colours lent it that calming, nautical air. I wondered if it was the owner’s aesthetic or if the yacht just came like this.
I plopped the marmalade lump down on the bed. It yowled demandingly, snagging a claw in my dress.
“I don’t think I’m supposed to be in here, you needy feline!” I untangled its claw from my clothes. “I just came in to …” I scooted my dress up to my waist and tugged the offending panties off. “Get rid of these bastards.” I dumped the wadded-up fabric on the bed and shimmied my dress back down.
“Prrrroww?”
The ginger cat was staring up at me, eyes wide, whiskers twitching. I took pity on the thing. The DJ must have been set up almost directly above because the room was vibrating with bass.
“Your daddy … or whoever owns this floating palace, really should have considered your delicate feelings before hosting this party, shouldn’t they?” I perched myself on the edge of the bed, and the ginger cat immediately ambled onto my lap, curling up and rumbling with violent purrs.
The haughty one stalked closer, eyeing me calculatingly before seeming to accept my presence and perch itself against my side. I reached for its collar to find a small tag and leaned closer to peer at the name.
“Trinket … what sort of name is that?” I wondered, feeling around the fuzzy neck of my new best friend until I located its collar. “And … Abernathy?” I rolled my eyes. “Rich people … they call their pets such stupid names.”
Trinket gave a little majestic head nod in agreement, and Abernathy purred harder in my lap. I sighed, rubbing him under his scraggly chin. “You know, I think you two are better company than the bunch of nasty fakes upstairs. I guess I can stay for a few minutes …”
