Chapter 18

That was the most complicated shower experience. Ever.

I take the white towel off the glass door, drying off. When I’m done, I wrap it around myself, taking another to lace it around my drenched coils. Yet another thing I needed from my luggage: my own hair products and my bonnet.

I swing the bathroom door open—I nearly jump out of my skin.

Orian swivels around, a few meters from the ensuite. He keeps his eyes on me, never once looking down.

“You ever heard of knocking?”

He looks around deliberately. “This is my house.”

Clutching onto the towel for dear life, I cock my head to the side. “You say that like I asked to be here?”

“You were asking for something when you stole from Gaza.”

And clearly it will haunt me until the end of my days.

“What do you want? If it’s to check my progress. I’m almost halfway.”

He shakes his head. “Get dressed. I’ll send in someone to pack a suitcase. We’re leaving.”

I frown at him. “Leave where?”

“Leaving the country.”

***

The car door opens. I exit. Welcomed by the brine of the sea, its salt-scented breath imbued in the winds. Torin and Orian follow out, chauffeured to a private dock with his escort of armed men. We head inside and Orian leads the way to a berth facing the open sea. A midnight black yacht, the same size if not bigger than Gaza’s. Talk about déjà vu.

“We’re traveling by... boat?”

“What’s the matter?” Torin asks in a teasing tone. “Bringing up bad memories?”

Ignoring him, I set my stare on Orian. He looks back at me.

“What? Couldn’t afford a private jet?”

He scoffs and boards the boat.

“Zenith owns an entire airline,” he says, as if to defend his brother’s pride. “He simply hates flying.”

I free a snort. “Fear of flying?”

“That a joke?” he asks with an almost disgusted expression. “There’s a reason people like Gaza are fond of traveling through international waters.”

I glance back at the guards, all of them hauling baggage. Torin nods to the yacht impatiently. We board. Not surprised, it is the epitome of luxury, an extravagant superyacht just boasting wealth. The captain and crew members, all attired in matching uniforms, are lined up in the front entrance. Orian instructs one of them to show me to my cabin. He and Torin walk off with a few of his guards.

“My name is Sherly Kruger.” Her hair is gelled, pulled back so tightly it looks like her hair is plastered to her head. “You must be his new lady friend?”

I’m sorry. What?

I glare back at her. Anger swept up in me like a storm. “New lady friend?” I repeat with pure loathing. “No, I’m not even his friend. He and I are business associates.”

Her excessive grin tapers down to a cumbersome line. “Oh, my apologies, ma’am.”

“Hadassah,” I correct gently.

She takes me on a brief tour, accompanied by the guards that carry my things. But not my things. And this superyacht is most definitely longer and bigger, with a free-flowing layout of a relaxed indoor-outdoor living, including a large beach club with an extended platform at sea level.

In the main saloon, bleached oak cladding is used with the wood’s grain with an uninterrupted continuum of lines. Custom made lintels and columns give an aristocratic appearance to the space, while a glass sliding door separates the main saloon from the front lounging area.

An internal stairwell leads to the upper deck, which houses a stylish open-plan dining area that exhibits a full three-hundred- and sixty-five-degree view.

An internal stairwell leads to the upper deck, which houses a stylish open-plan dining area that exhibits a full three-hundred- and sixty-five-degree view. And the upper deck has a fully equipped gym.

All the rooms are controlled by the AV, lights and blinds are managed by a Lutron system.

Our last stop is a massive cabin with its own private deck. Lavish with the architecture of a presidential suite at a five-star hotel with its centreline king-size bed. In the forward area, guards deposit my stuff in the bedroom-sized walk-in wardrobes that already have shirts packed in the shelves. In the bathroom, the pure white Calcutta floor contrasts with the depth of the emperor black marble. The cabin itself is decorated with dark resin back-lit feature lights with a swirly leaf pattern engraved into the wood.

“I’ll give you some time to get settled.”

“I’ll give you some time to get settled.”

She smiles and ushers out the guards.

Hours pass and I’ve just sat here since we set sail, watching the view from the private deck, but still inside the cabin. The ember-red sun dipping below the horizon, bleeding into the line that marks the boundary between land and sea.

A sudden knock disrupts my short-lived serenity.

I turn around and Sherly pokes her head into the room. “Sorry to disturb you. But Mr Moon requested that you join him on the upper deck for dinner.”

I snap a curt nod.

“He also said to wear something nice.”

“Fuck that,” I spit out.

She looks back at me apologetically. “My apologies.” Her gaze wavers, looking uncomfortable. She clears her throat twice. “He indicated that you would make a statement of such quality. Which is why he said if you don’t… he will come down here and put it on you himself.”

I walk to her. “Let’s go,” I say, rolling my shoulders back. “I’d love to see him try.”

She nods many times and widens the door for me and closes it when I pass. Sherly escorts me to the upper deck without saying a word. No small talk. Nothing. When we scale up the stairwell. We emerge atop. Guards are positioned around the square shaped rim of the unrailed area. In the center is a glass dinner table lined with platters of gourmet food. My eyes gloss over the ravioli with sun-dried tomatoes, arugula and hazelnuts with mushroom Asiago chicken and pan seared scallops.

Orian and Torin sit at the heads of the table.

Torin dismisses her with a flick of his wrist. She scurries off.

I saunter to the table, pulling up the only chair, and seating myself down. ”Mmm," I moan mockingly. “A double date with the Moon brothers. Not what my past-self fantasized.”

“And how did you imagine it?” Torin muses.

I look back at him, injecting venom into my words. I say, “With you behind bars.”

“And yet it is you who is trapped,” he retorts with an arrogant smirk. “The hunter… is now being hunted. Very poetic.”

Orian keeps silent, dishing himself a plate. I lean back into the seat, watching the view, devouring it with my eyes. The sea is like a rippling blanket of aluminum-blue, darkened by twilight. The foam-strewn sea surface seems so calm and still. The exact opposite of how I’m feeling.

After a tense interval of eating, listening to the sound of metal scraping against porcelain. I head back to my cabin, on my own. I change into the only comfortable thing I can find, which is an oversize graphic hoodie. I plop down on the sofa that’s positioned right in front of the king sized, facing the private deck.

I can’t believe one mistake led me here.

The door opens. Orian walks in. I bolt upright. He casually closes the door behind him, undoing his cufflinks whilst strolling into the walk-in wardrobe like I’m not even there.

“Think you got the wrong room.”

He pauses in the doorway to look back at me. “You didn’t notice my shit in the wardrobe?”

“I don’t give a shit!” I shriek, moving off the sofa to stand up. “I’m not sharing a room with you.”

“All the other cabins are reserved for my detail and the crew.” He gives me a quick once over. His impenetrable expression reveals nothing. “You’re welcome to sleep on the deck.”

That’s the ultimatum? Share or sleep on deck, even though there’s a couch?

My eyes drill virtual holes into him. “Baby, I’d rather sleep with Jaws.”

Moving, I kneel on the sofa to snatch up a velvet blanket that’s draped on the foot of the bed. And I get back up to round the bed, stealing a random pillow. Orian observes me but says nothing. I head to the sliding door, opening it to enter the private deck. I sit down on one of the cushioned sun loungers, unfurling the blanket. Slapping the pillow down, I lean back, yanking it over my face. Lucky for me, it’s not cold, but the ocean breeze isn’t warm either.

I’m more exhausted than I thought because sleep effortlessly lures me to the sweet bliss of unconsciousness. Too much, but too little time passes. The opera of the ocean washes over me, the waves lapping over each other. Seconds from letting go. The sliding door opens. Next thing I know, I’m being scooped up into a pair of arms, resting against an iron-bound chest.

Carried into the room, my eyes still closed. He lays me down on the bed, drawing the duvet covers over me. I peel my eyes open; catching a glimpse of his silhouette moving to the sofa.