“That’s a classic.”
He laughs, that gorgeous smoky sound. “It’s usually just in front of the class though, right? Not Wembley Stadium with eighty-thousand people laughing at you.”
I cringe. “Aww.Were they laughing?”
“Shut up,” he says, sweetly, that vivid glint in his eye. “I’m trying to make you feel better. And yet, here you are, throwing it in my face.”
“You love it.”
He shrugs like it’s a given. His gaze doesn’t leave mine as he takes another sip of wine, watching me like I’m his personal evening entertainment. My eyes snag on that shape in his throat as he swallows. It feels like every girl has a weird thing they like in a man. Mine is the throat.
Call me a vampire. I don’t care.
I bite my lip, unsure where to go from there. Between talking and eating, we take so long, the restaurant is almost clear, the music louder, the lights low, once we’re finishing up. Gus suggests we stroll the top deck and take in the views.
As we reach the doors, we take our shoes off as instructed.
We stroll slowly, doing a perimeter, the smooth, cool decking under our bare feet, bumping into each other gently as we drift closer. We don’t bother putting our shoes back on as we head to my room, Gus insisting on walking me back. Other than a few guests ambling at the bar still, the cruise has gone silent, the guests preparing for another busy day of sightseeing in Portofino. Which reminds me…
“I’m booked on the food and wine tour tomorrow.”
Gus leans on the wall outside my door. “That sounds incredible.”
“I certainly think so. Are you booked onto anything?”
He shakes his head, lips pressed together. “I came back to about a million messages. My team are stressed about a few events I have coming up. So I promised to do some things for them tomorrow.”
Disappointment laces my veins, and I want to slap myself for it. “I’m sorry you have to work.”
I’m sorry I have to go on a dumb tour without you.
He reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ears, his fingers lingering. I drift a step closer, inviting. I relish the way my nerves feel whenever he touches me. He sucks in a breath, dropping his hand.
I can smell the red wine on his lips. I want to taste it too. The thought rushes down my spine and pools somewhere deep and wanting.
“Nope. Your move, remember?” he says, voice low. He blinks quickly, leaning back. I bite my tongue. “I’m sorry about tomorrow. But I know Monaco well. Can I take you on a personal tour?”
I swallow, righting myself and taking hold of my bedroom door. I want to say something witty, keep him on his toes but my brain isn’t firing at all. So, I nod dumbly, then nearly fall into my room as I lean into the door and it opens faster than expected.
Gus reaches out to grab me but I right myself quickly.
“Balls,” I hiss.
“You ok?” he asks, humour lacing his tone.
“Good night,” I whisper, conscious of the other guests sleeping.
He winks. “Sleep tight, sunshine.”
Twenty-FiveCruise Location – PortofinoNext Port – MonacoTime of Departure – 16:00 (GMT+1)
The next day is filled with wine and bread and olives and anchovies and so much delicious food they have to practically roll me back onto the boat.
And although I dress up again for dinner, Gus is nowhere to be seen. For a moment, I wonder if he’s left the cruise all together, and it suddenly occurs to me that I don’t even know what room he is in, or how I’d contact him. It’s not like we exchanged numbers.
After a lonely dinner, I head back to my cabin for a moment and send Dad a message to see if he’s free. I like to check in on him at least once a week and I’m conscious it’s been slightly more than that.
“Why if it isn’t my jet-setting daughter!” he says once he answers.
