Stefanos on his own is inspiring enough. Stefanos on the sea as a captain is next-level. And I can’t wait for tomorrow to spend more time with him as new ideas about Stefanos swirl around my head.
Chapter Seventeen
By 9:00 a.m., we are alone on the yacht with a hefty picnic packed in Stefano’s cooler. The sun from yesterday has disappeared, replaced by soft, gray skies. I have no idea what time Stefanos was up, preparing food for the day, as if there were eight of us instead of two. I should have pegged him for a morning person. Now, he’s doing his pre-sailing inspection before we leave the berth. Stefanos loaned me an anorak, a solid choice, classic in navy. I’ve layered a couple of wool sweaters underneath as he told me it’ll be colder on the water with nothing to stop the wind and the humidity.
I sit down beside the helm, taking stock of the sleet fittings and the view of Stefanos clambering around, getting ready. Before too long, he settles in beside me at the helm, and we’re underway, slowly maneuvering out of the marina and out to sea.
“Like a seasoned pro,” I say with admiration. “I thought yachts always needed big crews to operate.”
“Not this little one. I can operate, and if needed, you can help me.” Stefanos gives an easy grin. “Get your sea legs as a deckhand. You never know, it could come in useful.”
“God help us.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you what to do.”
“Mm.” A shiver ripples along my spine at the very idea, and I consider him with intrigue as a playful smile curves his lips. “Unfortunately, I don’t think my future plans involve a life at sea.”
“I suppose most creative consultants work on land.”
I laugh. “Yeah. That’s where most of my clients are. I haven’t done a narrowboat yet. Or, incidentally, any yachts.” Then my mouth twitches as I think of the detour Freja’s plans have given me. There hasn’t been any news from Mamma that Freja’s come back to her senses. Or cancelled her marriage. “We’ll see.”
Stefanos unfortunately catches the momentary shift in my mood. He glances at me. “Everything alright? You’re not seasick already?”
“No, no, nothing like that.” I sigh and shake my head, wistful. “If only.”
His eyebrows lift ever so slightly. “Then?”
“Then… fuck.” I struggle with how much I should tell him. And the odds of him talking to anyone. If I’ve told James, Frankie, and Ethan, would there be any harm in telling Stefanos? He seems more private than James and understands the importance of privacy as a royal. “Sometimes the future isn’t so clear.”
“Tell me about it,” Stefanos says wryly. “I’d give something for a little clarity.”
“Sometimes it’s not the clarity you want, believe me.”
“Oh?”
“My, er, creative consultancy days are probably numbered.” I rub my face with my hands. The tell-all side fights with the need for secrecy. Maybe a compromise is in order. “I may need to step up my royal duties a lot sooner than I thought. Which would mean leaving everything in London behind. Including my work.”
Stefanos frowns. “Do you have to? Or, at least, do these duties full-time? It seems like a lot to give up.”
“It is, as they say, a nonnegotiable.”
His expression softens. “Is this because of your father’s passing?”
“Yeah. In part, anyway. It’s… complicated. I’m sorry, I’m not sure if I should tell you more right now.”
Stefanos gives me another sidelong glance. “You don’t need to tell me anything you don’t want to. But please know that anything you say to me will be kept private.”
“Thanks. Same. I just… it’s all very recent, and I’m trying to come to terms with the idea. I’m not sure how well that’s going, to be honest.”
“It sounds like a big shock. That’ll take time to get used to.”
I nod. “You can say that again. I love my London life.”
The yacht skirts the beautiful eastern coastline of Kerkyra as raindrops begin to splatter against the windows. We work on our picnic on our way to Paxos. It’s so natural being in Stefanos’ company and talking with him. Like he doesn’t expect me to act a certain way or always be on as if I’m giving a performance as it was with Aidan. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t know me I can feel more relaxed.
By the time we reach the small island of Paxos, a steady rain falls. We dare to dock at Gaios and stretch our legs on land and explore in our waterproof jackets. Gaios is a charming port town with Venetian buildings sitting at the base of green hills along the water. Stefanos shows me around, and we don’t linger in any one place too long in case we’re recognized. Some businesses are shuttered for the winter.
When we’re on board and underway again, Stefanos efficiently navigates the port toward open waters.
