Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to clear my mind. This is not my problem. It’s not my business, and I need to focus on my own life. But it’s hard when I’m surrounded by the tension so thick I can almost touch it.
I take a quick shower in the bathroom. I don't know how many premier suites the ship has, but this one is insanely nice. Everything is emerald-washed, with pops of clean white to add accents.
Once I'm dressed again, my hair wound up in a quick messy bun, I decide to explore. Mostly I'm hungry. We didn't eat after the car ride, it's been too long since breakfast.
Wandering around, I make my way through the ship. It's not empty anymore. Staff in crisp black polo shirts and matching shorts or skirts rush around on opal colored sneakers. I dodge, press against the wall to keep out of their way. They work efficiently; there are flower arrangements on every flat surface. Five people are setting up endless trays of champagne glasses. How many guests are going to board?
"Can I help you?"
I turn to find a tall man with a lean swimmer's body standing near me. He's tanner than the inside of a Reese's cup. Handsome with an alluring beauty that feels from a different time. Back when people painted oil portraits, the kind I'd study in museums these days. There's also something oddly familiar about him. I'm trying to place it when he smiles. That's when I know.
"Your Marco's other brother!"
He arches his thick brows. "Other brother? That doesn't sound good."
"No, sorry, I meant the one I haven't met yet." I hold out my hand. "I'm Filia. I'm Marco's guest."
"Yes. I know who you are." He grabs my hand, shaking like he wants to make my knuckles pop. "You stand out like a sore thumb." I recoil, but he laughs kindly. "I didn't mean that as an insult. It's nice, actually."
"I don't understand."
Releasing me, he scans the ship, speaking for just my ears. "I get sick of all the bowing and scraping employees... though they're better than the wannabe rich who stalk me, trying to become friends so they can ask me for favors."
"How do you know I'm not like that?"
"Marco has good taste." He winks at me, and I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks.
"So, were you waiting for him? We're supposed to be taking a ten minute break but he's up there arguing with the others."
My eyes track to the ceiling. I can't hear anything, I hope they're not yelling. "I was hoping to find the dining area."
"I can show you," he says, waving for me to follow him.
I fall into step beside him. The ship is a maze of shiny corridors and plush carpets. As we walk, I can't resist asking him more about the brothers. "So, you're Trey, right?"
He nods, his face serious. "Yeah, that's me. I'm in the middle, between Nathan and Marco."
"And how do you fit into all of this?" I ask, feeling like I'm treading on dangerous ground.
He shrugs, and for the first time I see a flash of something hard in his eyes. "I'm just a cog in the machine, like everyone else. But I know who I am, and I know what I want. That's more than some of my brothers can say."
I want to press him, to find out more, but I can tell that he's not interested in sharing. And then we round a corner into the biggest dining room I've ever seen.
Decorated with elegant chandeliers and luxurious furniture, it seats two hundred people easily. The tables are set with fine china and silverware. It's clear no expense has been spared. The best part of all, though, are the wall to wall buffet stations loaded with food. Chefs are actively cutting items, prepping for the evening meal that every guest will be attending.
Trey gestures to the food with a sweeping motion of his hand. "Go ahead and help yourself. You won't be disappointed."
I nod, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sheer amount of options. I make my way to one of the stations and start filling my plate with what looks like some kind of seafood dish. It smells heavenly.
As I'm spooning it onto my plate, I hear a familiar voice behind me. "Hey, Filia."
I turn to see Marco standing there. He looks frazzled. "Marco! Is everything okay?"
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "We're still at a standstill. It's like no one wants to give up their share, but no one knows what to do."
I nod sympathetically, feeling for him. "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?"
He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Just being here is enough."
"I'll do you one better." Beaming, I pluck a garlic coated potato off my plate and hold it to his lips. He blinks, then eats it. His lips brush my fingertips, sending erotic shocks to my core.