by Rebel Hart
“Yeah.” He started to lead down the side of the boat towards the front. “It was a gift from my dad. He felt bad because I was bored.”
“Oh my god,” I said. “That’s the richest story I’ve ever heard.”
He started to laugh. “Yeah, you know, I’ve actually never told it that way, so I didn’t realize how much of a douche it was gonna make me sound like. Forgive me.”
He was so much more eloquent than I expected. Was the ‘bro-style’ attitude he projected publicly just a front? It did always seem strange to us that his family seemed so intelligent and dignified while he was such a brute. Being one-on-one with him, he made much more sense, but I’d also seen the video of him fighting with Justice at the bar. He looked more like the animal I’d made him out to be.
Who was the true Bryce Misterro?
When we reached the front of the boat, he directed me towards a door that led inside. The door itself and the windows on either side were all made of glass, offering a beautiful view of the lake and night stars, and inside there was a table already set up with a burning candle in the middle, plates and silverware, and wine glasses. A bucket on the other side of the table had a bottle of wine chilling in it already.
“Wow,” I said. “Are you trying to make me fall for you in one fell swoop?”
He chuckled, setting his hand low on my back as he pulled the door open, and a shockwave of heat ran across my body. “If it works, I won’t complain.”
Applying gentle pressure, he guided me through the door, then he walked over to one of the chairs and pulled it out for me. I lowered myself into it as Bryce pushed it back towards the table, then he walked around and sat down in his own seat. No sooner had he sat down did someone come wandering out from a room in the back. It was an older woman with long, braided gray hair, wearing a chef’s hat.
“Hello Mr. Misterro,” she greeted, smiling at Bryce, then she turned to me. “Hello Miss Meghan.”
It was strange hearing everyone refer to me by my fake name while referring to Bryce by his real one. He really had no idea who I was, or he would be trying to hide his identity a little more.
“Hello.” I nodded politely.
“Dinner is just about finished,” she said. “I apologize, there was an issue in the beginning that required me to restart, otherwise it would be done already.”
Immediately, I jumped into panic mode. My heart started to race a little faster and I was prepared to stand up for this woman if I needed to. I couldn’t do anything when it came to my dad, but Bryce was an entirely different story.
“It’s not an issue, Meredith. We’re enjoying our conversation anyway, and your meals are well worth waiting for.” He reached up and squeezed the side of her arm. “I’ll pour the wine. Thank you.”
She nodded at him and then gave me another sweet smile before turning and walking away. Bryce smiled across the table at me and then frowned. “Is everything okay? You look upset all of a sudden.”
“Oh…” I shook my head. “No. I’m okay. My dad always flips out when meals and stuff don’t go his way. I think I was reacting on impulse.”
“Freak out?” He reached out and grabbed the bottle of wine, which had already had its cork popped and loosened and was just waiting to be poured. “How do you mean?”
Given that I was trying to hide who I was from him, I couldn’t quite tell him that my father literally killed chefs that didn’t perform to his satisfaction, but maybe an altered version of that story would be okay. “My dad is a little picky about his food. Both the timing and the taste. He shells out for expensive chefs, and if they screw up the food, or something like that.” I motioned towards the door where the chef had come out. “He’d fire ‘em in a snap.” I actually snapped my fingers on the word.
“Wow. How does anyone perform well under that level of stress?” He filled my glass with some of the white wine that had been chilling, and then he filled his own. “I feel like I’d be more likely to screw up knowing my job was always on the line.”
“That’s exactly what happens, which is why, even when he finds a good one, they eventually get the axe.” Literally. “But he’s not a very… friendly man. There’s not much talking to him about it, I’m afraid.” I lifted the glass of wine and took a sip and then waved my hand to bat away that subject. “Anyway. You still owe me an explanation about why you came to Vegas from Boulder.”
He nodded, and took a sip of his wine before talking. “It’s my fault. My family actually loved and was really successful in Boulder, but I have a bit of a temper. Though my brother and parents all put in a good amount of effort trying to leash me, I ended up getting into it pretty badly with one of our competitors and they were able to leverage a bunch of stuff until it made more sense for us to just leave town. The community hated us by the end. We were never going to continue to be successful.”
I could tell from the forlorn expression on his face, that the story he was telling me was true. Even if he was leaving key details out that you couldn’t just tell some normal business woman, the framework of the story was true. Was that why we never heard much about what Bryce’s role was in his family? Because he didn’t have one?
“What business is your family in?” I asked.
“Technology, so it sells just about anywhere, but it was rough uprooting our whole lives just because I was a hothead.” He took another large gulp of his wine. “I guess it worked out in the end. My brother got a promotion,” he held out his glass toast style, “and I got a yacht.”
“You’d have rather had the promotion,” I stated, lifting my glass.
“Maybe, but while he’s working right now, I’m on my own yacht with the most beautiful and intelligent woman I’ve ever met.”
I couldn’t help but grow a bigger smile at the compliments. “I’ll toast to that.” We clinked glasses before sipping down, and I knew that if I let my guard down too much, I’d give this man a little more than I intended to. A guy who was losing his parents’ pride to his younger brother?
Where have I heard that story before?
Dinner came out not long after that, and was a delicious looking pasta, with thin noodles tinted red from being tossed in wine, and then adorned with seared prawns and mushrooms and topped with green onions so fresh I couldn’t have been convinced they weren’t growing out of the ground in the kitchen. Each plate had a slice of baguette lightly painted with butter and smelled of garlic. It made my stomach rumble just looking at it.
“My compliments,” I said when she set the plate down in front of me. “It looks amazing.”
She smiled. “Oh thank you. I got this recipe from Bryce.”
I looked across the table at him and he had a look of irritation on his face. “Thanks, Mer.”
“Oh, what?” she grumbled at him. “Come on! It’s not like it makes it look worse that you know how to cook.”
“You’re a chef too?” I asked.
He flattened out his lips into a hard line, looking utterly embarrassed. “I’ve been very, very bored, and my place has a nice kitchen.”
Meredith gave him a side-eye before rolling her eyes. “Anyway. You two enjoy. I’ll be retiring upstairs to the captain’s quarters for the remainder of the trip. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call up.”
“Thank you, Meredith,” Bryce replied, then she fluttered off, her braid swinging behind her.
“So, you ride a motorcycle, you’ve got a great body, but you’re also smart. You own your own yacht, and you can cook? What the hell is wrong with you? You should be married by now with all that!”
“Look who’s talking,” he said. “The way you were dressed when I saw you this morning, you’re not just pushing papers around at the biggest tech company in Vegas. You’re a knockout, you’re smart and funny. Maybe we both have issues.”
I laughed as I stabbed my fork into my pasta and started to spindle it up. “Maybe.”
Bryce collected dessert from the kitchen when we were done with the pasta, a light,
refreshing parfait with frozen yogurt on the bottom and a collection of fruits and nuts on the top. We took them out to the front of the boat where we soaked in the perfect Las Vegas night air under the moonlight. I hated that it was the best date I’d ever been on. It was my last with Bryce, for sure, and I’d be lucky if I ever again found someone who measured up.
“All done?” Bryce asked when he saw my empty parfait glass.
I slipped the last scoop off the spoon into my mouth and then set it in the cup and handed it over. “Yes. Thank you.”
“I’m gonna run in and use the bathroom.” He motioned to the inner cabin where we’d had dinner. “Make yourself at home.”
He walked in and down the hallway to where I assumed the kitchen was, and after taking one last look at the night sky, I followed him in. Just beyond the glass doors and windows was the table where we’d sat, although everything had been cleared away apart from the wine glasses that had been filled up, likely to empty the bottle before taking it away. Along both walls were couches laid right into the sides of the boat, each lined with a collection of throw pillows.
The hallway that led back towards the kitchen was actually pretty long, so since I’d been given permission to make myself comfortable, I decided to do just that. There had to be something of value on that boat—an item or piece of information that my dad would find more useful than just the information that Bryce was his family’s idiot son. If there were a way to get to his mother, or even his brother, it wouldn’t be a wasted trip.
Down the hallway, there were two doors on each side, and then a swinging door at the end of the hallway that I’d seen both Meredith the chef and Bryce travel through, so I was able to guess that was the kitchen. Bryce didn’t come back through it, so there must be another bathroom past that door, or maybe the only bathroom, so all four of these doors were of interest to me.
When I opened the first one on the left, I was met with a storage closet of sorts. There were life preservers, life jackets, rope, and other things I’d expect to be in a boat’s safety equipment. I poked around a little, but nothing screamed out at me, so I backed out. Across the hallway was another closet and it was more of the same. Less safety items and more comfort like extra pillows, blankets, and towels. It even looked like there were spare bikinis and swim trunks stored inside, likely for when parties got chaotic and a guest needed one. The bikinis looked cheaply made, so after lifting a few piles up to see if anything was hidden behind them, I closed the door and continued down the hallway.
Finally, the second door down on the right was a jackpot. It opened up into a bedroom, and by the leather jacket cast on the bed, that I was guessing Bryce tossed in as he passed, it was his bedroom. There was a king-sized bed with a modern, simplistic bed frame in the middle of the room and end tables on either side. The end tables were very clearly just that, as they were nothing more than a top and four legs—no shelves or drawers. I checked to see if I could hear him coming, but no sound reached me, so I slipped into the room and quickly went over to his jacket. Ruffling my hands through his pockets, I was looking for anything useful; his wallet, keys, phone, but the pockets were empty.
Well, I had discovered he wasn’t all dumb.
Convinced his jacket wasn’t going to do me any good, I left and slipped over to the small closet a few feet from the foot of the bed. I frowned immediately upon sliding the folding door open, because apart from some spare clothes hanging, it seemed empty, but then my eyes landed on a duffel bag in the upper left-hand corner of the closet. I looked back over my shoulder again to see if Bryce was coming, but there were no sounds or roaming shadows, so I figured I had a few seconds left to pry.
As fast as I could, I pulled the duffel bag down and unzipped it. In the darkness of the closet, it was hard to see, so I carried it over to the bed where the light of the moon from outside was shining in and gave me enough light to see.
But what the hell was I seeing?
Ear plugs, gloves, rope, binds.
My heart dropped into my stomach as I realized too late that I’d made a terrible mistake.
“You found my stash, huh?” My head jerked to look over to where Bryce was standing in the frame of the bedroom doorway, leaning to one side with his arms crossed and the smile gone from his face.
“What is this stuff?” I asked, sweat already collecting on my brow.
“I could tell you,” he said, and then a smile snaked across his face, “but I’d much rather show you.”
8
Mari
My mind started to race through every way I could defend myself. Bryce was obviously much larger than me, but I had my knife and gun on me. It was just a matter of getting to them before he could get to me. The issue was that the room wasn’t all that large to begin with, and he was already stepping in and closing the door behind him.
“You know who I am, don’t you?” I asked, nervously.
“I’ve got a pretty good idea,” he replied in a dark tone, closing in on me.
Defensively, I started to back up, but in a single, quick step forward, Bryce was close enough to wrap an arm around my back and pull me back up to him. I’d gotten pretty close to him throughout the evening, at the very least hugging around him when we rode his bike, but now his jacket was off and his cologne was coiling its way around me. The intense look in his eyes sent a shiver down my spine, and if I were in any other circumstances, the forceful, alpha demeanor would have me itching for more, but I had to shake myself loose.
The man was trying to kill me.
I lifted my right arm, preparing to fish it behind the base of my dress to get the pocket pistol I had strapped along my waist, when Bryce pulled me to him and dropped his head to mine. In a flash, his lips were on mine and I wouldn’t have known my own name if someone had asked. Something about the fullness of them, the salt mixed with the heat, and the scratch of his beard and mustache had me quickly losing my mind. My arms went limp at first, but then on impulse, I brought them up and wrapped them around his neck.
As long as we were kissing, he couldn’t kill me, right? If I had to sleep my way out of this situation, I would—hell, it probably wouldn’t feel like that much of a sacrifice.
But then things took a turn I wasn’t expecting.
Bryce pulled back from me and looked over to the duffel bag and opened it a little more, giving me an even clearer shot of what was inside. “So… what are you most curious about?”
Curious?
Was this some sort of sick murderer game? He was making me select the way I wanted to die? Or was there something else at play? Did I misread the situation?
“I don’t really know what any of it is for.”
He chuckled, keeping me held closely to him. “You asked me earlier what’s wrong with me. I guess this is it. My kink.”
My brain split open. Kink?! “It’s a kink?”
“Can I show you? We can stop if you don’t feel comfortable.”
Between my closed up throat and slamming heart, I wasn’t sure which was going to kill me first, but I suddenly felt like I had to take very slow, careful steps forward. He could still be playing me, or I could have jumped to an unnecessary conclusion. I thought I had total control over the situation, but suddenly I was in the middle of a dark forest and uncertain if I was the hunter or being hunted.
“Okay…” I said. “Do we need a safe word?”
“The safe word is you telling me no, or to stop. Smack the hell out of me if you think that’s how you need to tell me.”
I swallowed hard, scared, but intrigued. “Okay.”
“We won’t go full-monte out the gate,” he said with a smirk, then reached into the bag and pulled out a couple of the binds.
“I don’t want to be tied up.”
“That’s fair.” He pressed a finger under my chin and tilted my head back, smoothing his thumb along my bottom lip and leaving a blazing hot trail in its wake. “Can I put something around your mouth?”
“My mouth?” He n
odded and my body started to bubble with an unknown warmth. “How will you hear me if I tell you to stop?”
“If you really need to, you can scream out, it won’t stop you. Otherwise…” He wrapped a hand down under my bicep and gave two firm squeezes. “Two squeezes tells me to stop immediately, or the aforementioned smacking me.”
This was stupid. This was so stupid. Sixty seconds ago, I was convinced this man was trying to murder me. Was all this stuff really related to some kink? He said he wouldn’t tie me up, but was I honestly going to give him permission to bind my mouth?
Hell, why not? It was me, him, and two people under his employ on a yacht in the middle of a lake. Even if I could scream, it wouldn’t help me.
“You can,” I said.
The smile on his face got even wider, then he brought one of his hands up and slid the bangs of the wig I was wearing out of my eyes. “What about a blindfold?”
A million of my family’s former victims flashed across my gaze in a single second. All of them gagged and blindfolded. If this really was just a kink, it was a damn insane one for our line of work. “Blindfolded and my mouth bound?”
“Yeah… If you don’t want that…” To my surprise, he started to slide the items back into the bag, but for whatever reason, it made me feel weak. If it was just a kink, I didn’t want him to think it was something I couldn’t handle.
“No, it’s okay.” I reached out and grabbed his hand, stopping him from putting the items away. “Two squeezes and you stop, right?”
He closed in on me even further, wrapping one arm all the way around me, and setting his head against mine to kiss me again. He pulled back and let his eyes linger in mine. “Right.”
There was something going on that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Somewhere between the drinks at the bar, the ride on the bike, and the dinner on the water, he’d ensnared me, and I didn’t realize it until just this moment. His arms were wrapped around me now, but he’d had his hooks sunk into me long before we left the city. I was only just now getting Bryce Misterro’s number.
