rabbit hole of self-pity beckoned. She avoided it by getting her bearings aboard the aptly named Inferno. The top deck was chilly and dark, the early night sky spitting rain into her face as the wind came up. The hot tub looked appealing, steaming and glowing with colored underwater lights. When the porter appeared with towels and a robe, inviting her to use the nearby change room, she was tempted, but explained she was just looking around.
He proceeded to give her a guided tour through the rest of the ship. She didn’t know what the official definition for “ship” was, but this behemoth had to qualify. The upper deck held the bridge along with an outdoor bar and lounge at the stern. A spiral staircase in the middle took them down to the interior of the main deck. Along with Mikolas’s stateroom and her own, there was a formal dining room for twelve, an elegant lounge with a big-screen television and a baby grand piano. Outside, there was a small lifeboat in the bow, in front of Mikolas’s private sundeck, and a huge sunbathing area alongside a pool in the stern.
The extravagance should have filled her with contempt, but instead she was calmed by it, able to pretend this wasn’t a boat. It was a seaside hotel. One that happened to be priced well beyond her reach, but whatever.
It wasn’t as easy to pretend on the lower deck, which was mostly galley, engine room, less extravagant guest and crew quarters. And, oh, yes, another boat, this one a sexy speedboat parked in an internal compartment of the stern.
Her long journey to get to Trina caught up to her at that point. She’d left London the night before and hadn’t slept much while traveling. She went back to her suite and changed into a comfortable pair of pajamas—ridiculously pretty ones in peacock-blue silk. Champagne-colored lace edged the bodice and tickled the tops of her bare feet, adding to the feeling of luxuriating in pure femininity.
She hadn’t won a prize holiday, she reminded herself, trying not to be affected by all this lavish comfort. A gilded cage was still a prison and she would not succumb to Mikolas’s blithe expectation that he could “keep” her. He certainly would not seduce her with his riches and pampering.
I won’t force you and I won’t have to.
She flushed anew, recalling their kiss as she curled up on the end of the love seat rather than crawl into bed. She wanted to be awake if he arrived expecting sex. When it came to making love, she was more about fantasy than reality, going only so far with the few men she’d dated. That kiss with Mikolas had shaken her as much as everything else that had happened today.
Better to think about that than her near-drowning, though.
Her thoughts turned for the millionth time to her mother’s last moments. Somehow she began imagining her mother was on this boat and they were being tossed about in a storm, but she couldn’t find her mother to warn her. It was a dream, she knew it was a dream. She hadn’t been on the other boat when her mother was lost, but she could feel the way the waves were battering this one—
Sitting up with a gasp, she sensed they’d hit rough waters. Waves splashed against the glass of her porthole and the boat rocked enough she was rolling on her bed.
How had she wound up in bed?
With a little sob, she threw off the covers and pushed to her feet.
Fear, Aunt Hildy would have said, was no excuse for panic. Viveka did not consider herself a brave person at all, but she had learned to look out for herself because no one else ever had. If this boat was about to capsize, she needed to be on deck wearing a life jacket to have a fighting chance at survival.
Holding the bulkhead as she went into the passageway, she stumbled to the main lounge. The lifeboat was on this deck, she recalled, but in the bow, on the far side of Mikolas’s suite. The porter had explained all the safety precautions, which had reassured her at the time. Now all she could think was that it was a stupid place to store life jackets.
* * *
Mikolas always slept lightly, but tonight he was on guard for more than old nightmares. He was expecting exactly what happened. The balcony in Viveka’s stateroom wasn’t the only thing alarmed. When she left her suite, the much more discreet internal security system caused his phone to vibrate.
He acknowledged the signal, then pushed to his feet and adjusted his shorts. That was another reason he’d been restless. He was hard. And he never wore clothes to bed. They were uncomfortable even when they weren’t twisted around his erection, but he’d anticipated rising at some point to deal with his guest so he had supposed he should wear something to bed.
He’d expected to find release with his guest, but when he’d gone to her room, she’d been fast asleep, curled up on the love seat like a child resisting bedtime, one hand pillowing her cheek. She hadn’t stirred when he’d carried her to the bed and tucked her in, leaving him sorely disappointed.
That obvious exhaustion, along with her pale skin and the slight frown between her brows, had plucked a bizarre reaction from him. Something like concern. That bothered him. He was impervious to emotional manipulations, but Viveka was under his skin—and she hadn’t even been awake and doing it deliberately.
He sighed with annoyance, moving into his office.
If a woman was going to wake him in the night, it ought to be for better reasons than this.
He had no doubt this private deck in the bow was her destination. He’d watched her talk to his porter extensively about the lifeboat and winch system while he’d sat here working earlier. He wasn’t surprised she was attempting to escape. He wasn’t even angry. He was disappointed. He hated repeating himself.
But there was an obdurate part of him that enjoyed how she challenged him. Hardly anyone stood up to him anymore.
Plus he was sexually frustrated enough to be pleased she was setting up a midnight confrontation. When he’d kissed her earlier, desire had clawed at his control with such savagery, he’d nearly abandoned one for the other and made love to her right there at the table.
His need to be in command of himself and everyone else had won out in the end. He’d pulled back from the brink, but it had taken more effort than he liked to admit.
“Come on,” he muttered, searching for her in the dim glow thrown by the running lights.
This was an addict’s reaction, he thought with self-contempt. His brain knew she was lethal, but the way she infused him with a sense of omnipotence was a greater lure. He didn’t care that he risked self-destruction. He still wanted her. He was counting the pulse beats until he could feel the rush of her hitting his system.
Where was she?
Not overboard again, surely.
The thought sent a disturbing punch into the middle of his chest. He didn’t know what had made him throw off his jacket and shoes and dive in after her today. It had been pure instinct. He’d shot out the emergency exit behind her, determined to hear why she had upended his plans, but he hadn’t been close enough to stop her tumble into the water.
His heart had jammed when he’d seen her knock into the side of the yacht, worried she was unconscious as she went under.
Pulling her and that whale of a gown to the surface had nearly been more than he could manage. He didn’t know what he would have done if the strength of survival hadn’t imbued him. Letting go of her hadn’t been an option. It wasn’t basic human decency that had made him dive into that water,
