ChapterOne
MARINA
The email was my saving grace, having come at exactly the right moment. It was like some divine hand reaching down to pluck me from the wreckage of my own life.
We'd love to have you join us for a test shoot;your look is precisely what our brand needs. Authentic. Real. Beautiful. Perfection.
I read it seventeen times while sitting on my thin, crappy mattress in the apartment I share with two girls who make it their mission to remind me daily that I'm chubby. I can't walk into the kitchen without them making their remarks.
That I'm too soft, too round, too much. What's worse, I flunked out of community college. I didn't know that was possible, but I'm just not great under pressure. When a test is put in front of me, my mind blanks. My dyslexia doesn't help either.
But this—this was different. Someone wanted me. Specifically me!Authentic. Real. Beautiful. Perfection.No one has ever called me those things before. Not once. In fact, my roommates are all too happy to make fun of my Instagram and laugh at the pictures I take of food and myself.
I smooth my sundress over my hips and try not to fidget as I stand at the marina's edge, staring up at the yacht that dwarfs every other boat in the harbor. This is fate. I can feel it in my bones. Even my name is fitting. It’s the sign from the universe I’ve been waiting for.
The yacht is obscene, really. White and gleaming with multiple decks rising like a floating palace. It’s the kind of boat that belongs to billionaires and movie stars. The kind of boat that has no business with a community college failure with thirty pounds of extra curves and a thrift-store wardrobe.
"Miss Dubois?"
I startle, spinning around to find a man in a crisp white uniform smiling at me. Everything about him screams "professional, expensive, exclusive." Oh my god, is he like a butler of the sea?
"Yes, that's me." I pull my shoulders back and raise my chin, trying to appear confident.
"Welcome aboard theSiren’s Hold. We're so pleased you could join us." He extends his hand to help me up the gangway, and I take it. The second I'm safely on board, he quickly drops my hand like I burned him and steps away from me. Maybe he's worried I'll think he's coming on to me and not just being polite, but I wasn't getting that at all from him.
Before I can fully take in the luxury I'm surrounded by, another uniformed staff member appears with a flute of champagne on a silver tray.
"For you, miss," he says and gives me a small nod.
I take it with trembling fingers, scared I'm going to drop it. For a moment, I'm a princess in a fairy tale, transformed from the girl my roommates bully into someone worthy of crystal and champagne and yachts.
I take a sip, and the bubbles tickle my nose, making me giggle.
I really need this escape. It's best I get away where no one can find me. For the past few months, I've been getting emails from two men claiming to be my stepbrothers—brothers I've never known existed because my mother took those secrets to her grave.
It's time for us to finally meet,they wrote.To be the family we were always meant to be.
I was getting them every day, and the only thing I could do was delete them. My mother's warnings echo in my memory that my father wasn't right in the head.
He was obsessive, Marina. Possessive. He wouldn't let me go. I had to run, had to hide. Promise me you'll never let them find you.
I made the promise, and I've kept it, even when curiosity would try to get the best of me. The loneliness is making me wonder what it might be like to have family, a real family, after losing my mother a few years ago.
I’m thinking about them right now while on this boat. With champagne in my hand and the possibility of open ocean stretching before me.
"Marina?"
I spin around to see two men standing at the far end of the deck, framed by the setting sun. They're identical. Same sharp jawlines, dark hair, and the same height that towers over my five-foot-two frame. But where one wears a tailored suit, clean-shaven and polished, the other is shirtless, his muscular torso covered in intricate tattoos that snake up his arms and across his chest.
Both of them are staring at me with an intensity that makes my breath catch and my stomach tighten.
"Welcome aboard theSiren’s Hold," the tattooed one says, his voice smooth. "We've been waiting for you."
The clean-cut one says nothing, but his stare is unwavering. There’s something barely restrained about him that makes me think of coiled springs and predators circling prey.
"We have so much to show you," the tattooed brother continues, stepping closer. His smile is warm and inviting. "The photoshoot, of course. But first, let us give you the tour. Help you understand exactly what life could be like if you sign with us. The things we could give you."
I nod, my heart pounding now against my ribs. I can't look away from them. Identical men who watch me like I'm precious and rare. Something they've been hunting for for a very long time.
