Chapter 4
Ore
Ore caught sight of herself in one of the extremely clean and extremely large windows lining the top sundeck, and she was not impressed by what she saw. She’d decided to pile her braids on top of her head, but the wind had already had its way, because half of them were now trailing down her back.
She looked washed out, her skin betraying her with the unmistakable green tinge and sweaty sheen of nausea. She was suddenly aware that the heeled boots she was wearing were wholly inappropriate for a boat, as was the white silk maxi skirt wrapped around her waist.
In truth, she was still exhausted from the journey, which had been both unbearably long and stressfully rushed. She had only given herself an hour for the transfer at Hong Kong and then once she landed in Sydney, she had been whisked first by private plane to New Caledonia and then hurried onto a helicopter, which dropped her off on one of the two helipads on board. A sullen-looking man had taken her bags and directed her to the deck to wait for Chuck.
It had only taken ten minutes for her lack of sea legs to make itself known, and then the handsome captain had found her.
‘It’s a pretty big boat, so I won’t do a full tour today. You’ll get to know your way around eventually. But this is the top deck and then as you look down it’s the second deck, third, fourth, fifth et cetera.’ Daniel spoke quietly but authoritatively as Ore followed behind him.
It was a welcome change, thought Ore, from all the men in New York who spoke loudly with no authority at all. She felt exceedingly conscious that she wasn’t looking her best and then decided that Daniel was the sort of man who probably liked the ‘girl-next-door type’ – the kind of woman who felt effortlessly comfortable in a pair of old jeans and didn’t wear impractical shoes. Someone who, like him, came across as sensible and straightforward, with a five-year plan and regular pension contributions set up.
Ore berated herself for getting distracted so easily. Pretty boys were her weakness. If she had met Daniel in a bar in New York, she would have found a way to get him back to her bed by the end of the night, and then most probably would have forgotten his name by the next morning. But, she reminded herself now, they weren’t in New York,andhe was sort of her subject. Her journalistic ethics would have to take precedence over her horny tendencies this time.
They circled three decks, and Ore was shown the second helipad, four lounges, the indoor and outdoor swimming pools, the gym, the games room, the dining room and the ‘main’ bar. She was finding it hard to keep up, and was sure that she would never be able to find her way around these labyrinthine corridors and narrow stairways.
Daniel seemed to have every last detail of the spec of the boat to hand, reeling off the square footage of each particularroom as casually as if he were recalling what he had for breakfast. He was more than happy to answer a question about the type of wood used for the panelling in the library, but the moment she asked anything more prying he pursed his lips and said something evasive like ‘I don’t know about all that, miss’. But Ore was persistent.
‘How long have you been working for Mr Regas?’
Daniel frowned, and Ore wondered how that could possibly be a controversial question.
‘Technically, about a month, but I was just on retainer until last week’, he replied finally. After a long pause, he added, ‘I work through an agency, you see, and his usual captain …’ She watched him as he seemed to realise he was digging himself a hole. Ore held her breath for a juicy titbit.
‘Wasn’t available,’ he concluded.
Ore realised he was hoping to give nothing away, but in fact he had, simply by refusing to answer. His hesitance itself was suspicious.Find out why the old captain left, was added to Ore’s mental list of mysteries to solve.
‘I see,’ she said lightly. For now she wasn’t going to pry any deeper. It was clear he wasn’t feeling chatty this evening and admittedly she had not made the best first impression.
Daniel checked his watch. ‘It’s probably time for me to take you up to dinner. We wouldn’t want to keep Mr Regas waiting.’
‘Yes, Captain!’ She hoped he would respond to her enthusiasm – an enthusiasm her friends and family had described as ‘infectious’ – but, Daniel gave her a stiff smile and motioned for her to walk ahead of him. He would have to be put on the back burner. For now she needed to concentrate on the man of the hour: Mr Chuck Regas himself.
She heard him before she saw him, walking up yet another concealed set of stairs snaking up three storeys on the left side of the boat.
‘Listen, Sandra, I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, but this is a mess.’ Ore felt sorry for Sandra. Chuck’s tone was disconcertingly cheery, and it sent a shiver down her spine. ‘Get back to me tomorrow with some new figures and we’ll go over the numbers with the PR team a second time, OK?’
Ore couldn’t make out the reply though she strained to hear. As she reached the top of the stairs, Chuck hung up immediately, beaming at her as if she were a long-lost friend.
‘Ore! An absolute pleasure – so glad to have you on board.’ She was not the only one who had done her research – he had pronounced her name correctly. He wore a plaid shirt over a navy T-shirt, a pair of cargo shorts and shoes that looked better suited to mountain climbing than yacht reclining. His hair was somewhere between blonde and white, almost beige. He was shorter than she had expected.
Before she could react, he was leaning in for a hug, and Ore went into autopilot, squeezing his shoulders and smiling widely. As they pulled away from each other, she became very aware of Daniel standing behind her. When she glanced over, she spotted him resolutely looking into the middle distance.
‘Mr Regas, thank you so much for …’ she was a little breathless, acutely aware that this man in front of her might be the making of her career ‘… all this,’ she said, waving her arms around awkwardly.
‘Please, please, call me Chuck. I thought we’d established this!’ He sounded playful but there was a strange vacantness to his gaze that Ore found unnerving.
‘Of course, sorry, Chuck,’ she stumbled – she was nervous.
‘Come, come, Carlos has cooked us up a feast, and he gets mad when I let it go cold.’ He winked as he placed a hand gently on Ore’s shoulder and led her into the dining room. Just before he closed the door behind them he called, ‘Dan, let’s talk after dinner please?’
It took a moment for Ore to process that he was talking to Daniel, who even in the short time she’d known him, did not seem like a ‘Dan’.
‘Yes, sir.’
Ore wondered if he would correct him, but the informality only seemed to flow in one direction. Chuck smiled and pushed the door closed.
