by Rickie Blair
Mila put down her fork.
“Are you all right?”
“I was puking all morning.” Isabel leaned closer. “I think I’m pregnant,” she whispered.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. My contract runs for another four months, but I don’t know if I can finish it. Right now all I can think about is taking a nap and I still have to get through dinner,” she glanced at her watch, “which starts in twenty minutes. After that, I’m supposed to work the gala buffet at midnight. The captain and the senior staff will be there. If I have to throw up …” Isabel looked miserable.
Mila put a hand on her arm and gave her a stern look.
“If you’re pregnant, you have to tell them.”
“I can’t. They’ll send me home.” Isabel’s shoulders slumped and she looked down at her plate. “Mila, is there any chance you could work the buffet tonight? I’ve asked everybody else.”
Mila withdrew her hand, emptied a sugar packet into her coffee and stirred it, not looking at Isabel. The last thing she wanted to do was work an extra shift. She raised the cup to her lips and turned to her friend. Isabel looked at her with her head tilted and her eyes wide.
Mila nodded and gave her a tight smile.
“Sure. I can do that.”
“Thank you so much you’re an angel,” Isabel blurted. Jumping up, she gave Mila a lopsided hug that nearly toppled her from her chair and then headed for the door, leaving her half-eaten plate of food on the table. As Isabel hurried out, she swerved around Dimitri, who was coming in. He headed for the buffet, where the line had thinned, and picked up a tray. Mila had almost finished her coffee by the time he placed a heaping plate of meat and potatoes on the table and sat next to her.
She gave his arm a quick squeeze.
“I didn’t think I’d see you this evening,” she said in Russian.
“I have only a few minutes.” Dimitri tore into his food. Mila walked to the beverage station, filled a cup with black coffee and placed it on the table in front of him. He nodded without looking up. Putting down his fork, Dimitri reached for the cup, blew on the surface, and swallowed.
Mila sat beside him.
“I’m working the midnight shift in the dining room tonight for Isabel.”
“Are you crazy? She would not do that for you.” He took another swallow.
“How do you know?” Mila gave him a playful tap. “We women have to stick together.” Pushing her cardigan sleeves up to her elbows, she drank the last of her cold coffee.
Dimitri put down his cup and picked up his fork, glancing over at her.
“Where did you get that sweater?”
“Miss Delaney, in the Emperor Suite. She gave it to me.”
“Why?”
“Maybe she liked me.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“A little.”
He put down his fork.
“What about?”
Mila tugged the sweater’s edges together with one hand and leaned back, twisting her empty cup on the saucer.
“Miss Delaney is from Toronto, did you know that?”
“Huh. No, I did not know this.” Dimitri pulled the silver lighter from his pocket and placed it on the table. “She gave me something as well, from that shop on the promenade. The expensive one.”
Mila picked up the lighter and turned it over in her hand.
“Why did she give you this?”
“Why did she give you that sweater?” He shrugged. “She’s friendly.”
Mila touched the silver dial on the lighter. maybe. What did that mean? ‘Maybe’ what? Before she could ask, a burly man in kitchen whites swaggered over and pointed a finger at Dimitri.
“Still on for tonight, my man? I’m going to clean your clock.”
“You wish.” Dimitri slapped palms with him, grinning. “But if you have no use for your money, I will take it from you, no problem. As well as sexy woman I saw you with yesterday.”
“Ah, Isabel.” He leaned over the table, smirking. “A hot number, for sure. But you’re out of luck on that score, for this cruise anyway.” The kitchen worker straightened up and nodded at Dimitri. “Your money, though? I’m happy to take that off your hands.” He strolled to the exit, winking at a woman by the door.
Mila scowled as she watched him disappear into the corridor.
“That man is a pig.”
Dimitri grabbed her wrist.
“What did you say?” he hissed.
Cringing, she pulled her arm away.
“Mind your own business,” he said coldly, returning to his meal.
Mila bit her lip and looked down, rubbing her wrist. The lighter was still on the table, its indicator pointed to maybe. She nudged the dial and the indicator swung to yes.
“What do you mean, Miss Delaney is friendly?” she said, tapping the lighter with one finger. “How friendly?”
“What does it matter?” Dimitri snatched up the lighter and slipped it into his pocket without looking at Mila. Leaning his chair on its back legs, he stared at the ceiling. “She is nice woman. Very pretty. But sad, I think.” He dropped his chair back onto the floor with a thud. “I can get money from her.”
Mila shook her head.
“You should leave her alone. Bogdan said Viktor was planning something. Bogdan said—”
“Bogdan is an asshole,” Dimitri said sharply. He studied her, blowing air through his lips. “I thought you didn’t want Sergei working with Viktor.”
“What do you mean?” Her stomach twisted. “What does that—”
He cut her off with a scowl. “Stop. Every night I see you frowning over that book. You will never have enough for Sergei’s tuition. You still owe for last year.”
“I will get the money.”
“No, you won’t. Not scrubbing toilets.” He glared at her and Mila held her breath.
“I will meet Ruby Delaney tonight and you will tell her husband that you saw us together.”
She twisted the edges of her sweater together.
“He will be angry.”
“So?”
“What if he hurts her?”
“Why would he do this?”
Mila rubbed her wrist and said nothing.
“Tonight. After buffet.” Dimitri pushed out his chair and stood up.
“I don’t think—”
“No. You don’t think. You leave that to me.” He turned and left without a backward glance.
Chapter Twelve
At the dining room entrance, Antony Carver, dressed in a dinner jacket, argued with the maître d’ and waved an opened wine bottle. Even from the other side of the room it was obvious he was swaying.
Ruby turned back to the table and tried to smile at her fellow diners.
“My husband has been under a lot of pressure lately.”
They nodded gravely at her, but they all turned to follow Antony’s progress through the room. Chairs scraped, one by one, across the floor as he lurched to their table. Ruby held her breath, not wanting to turn around.
“’Scuse me,” Antony said loudly, several times.
A waiter hurried over to pull out the empty chair next to Ruby, and Antony sat down with a thump. He placed an almost empty wine bottle on the table and gave it a pat.
“There,” he said, grinning at the other guests.
Ruby leaned against him, her voice low. “Why don’t we go back to our suite?” She pushed back her chair and stood up.
“What for? Siddown.” Antony slapped her on the rear and she jumped. He picked up the bottle and poured the last of its contents into a glass, sloshing some on the tablecloth.
“Women,” he rolled his eyes at Gareth, “always telling us what to do.”
The investment banker grasped his opportunity.
“Mr. Carver, I’m so glad you’ve been able to join us,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Gareth Nesbitt, with Nash & Bros.?”
When Antony didn’t respond, Gareth lowered his hand and
gestured at a leather portfolio propped against his chair.
“I have a little proposal I thought we might discuss. Perhaps after dinner, over a cigar?”
Antony, who wiped his eyeglasses with his napkin while Gareth spoke, put his glasses back on and stared at the investment banker.
“Happy to oblige. And while I’m at it, is there anything else you need me to do? Sleep with your wife, maybe?” He squinted at Tabitha. “What do you think, honey? Are you up for it?”
“Antony,” Ruby said, “for heaven’s sake.”
He ignored her.
“As for your proposal, Gareth, yeah, leave that crap with me, my boy. I’ll file it for you.” Antony turned and waved at the waiter, who hurried over. “I want another of this,” he said, pointing at the empty bottle, “and don’t tell me you don’t have any, cause I know better.” A second waiter hustled over with a table setting, but veered after Antony shouted, “Go away.”
Gareth and his wife exchanged glances and then he stood up and pulled out his wife’s chair.
“Perhaps you’ll be feeling better tomorrow, Mr. Carver. Good evening, Miss Delaney.” With a token nod to the other guests he walked away, followed by his wife.
“I feel fine now,” Antony called after them. Drumming his fingers on the table, he peered across the room, looking for the wine steward. “Where’s that bottle?”
Ethan ran a hand down his pink ruffles and cleared his throat. “Perhaps you’ve had enough, Mr. Carver?”
Antony turned his head to look at Ethan and Emily.
“Well,” he said slowly, “aren’t you the cutest little couple? Let me guess. Honeymooners?”
Emily smiled shyly and giggled.
Antony smirked at Ethan and said loudly, “Well, good luck with that, sucker.”
A startled Emily knocked over her glass. Red wine flowed across the table and dripped into Antony’s lap. He leapt to his feet, blotting wine off his shirt with a napkin.
“What the hell? Watch what you’re doing, bitch.”
Ethan stood up, his face flushed.
“You can’t call my wife that.”
Emily tugged at his arm. “Honey,” she whispered, “please sit down.”
Ethan glowered at Antony, who glowered back. Ruby held her breath. She didn’t realize Pete Osler had left his chair until Antony’s arms were pinned behind his back.
“Time to say good night, Mr. Carver,” Pete said. He maneuvered Antony past the table and nodded to the maître d’, who motioned for two waiters to lend a hand. Ruby followed them out. Around the corner, the men released Antony.
“No need for that,” he slurred, adjusting his rumpled lapels. “I was leaving anyway.”
Pete nodded at Ruby.
“He’s all yours.” As he brushed past her to return to the table, he said in a low voice, “Call me if you need any help.”
* * *
Ruby stood close behind Antony as he fumbled through his pockets at the door to the Emperor Suite, looking for his key card. Reaching around him, she handed over her own.
“Take mine.”
Antony swiped her card through the lock and dropped it into his jacket pocket. Turning to face her, he smiled crookedly and held out his arms. Ruby stepped into them and leaned her face against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, feeling the world slip away. He buried his hands in her hair and tipped her head back for a lingering kiss. The corridor dissolved until there was nothing in the world but the pressure of his lips and tongue against hers. She wrapped both hands around his neck, shivering with pleasure as he slid his fingertips down her bare back.
With a smile, Antony released her. Reaching behind him, he pushed the door open. He stepped back over the threshold.
He closed the door in her face.
For a second Ruby was motionless. What on earth?
Opening her handbag, she reached for her key card. Damn. It was in Antony’s pocket. She tapped on the door.
“Antony, let me in.”
Silence.
“Antony? Not funny. Let me in.”
More silence.
She tapped again, harder. “Antony,” she hissed, leaning her forehead against the door. “I know you’re there.” Tears stung her eyes. “Please don’t do this.”
“Is everything all right, dear?”
Ruby whirled around.
An elderly couple in evening clothes stood behind her. The husband’s black cummerbund strained over his belly and his wife clutched a satin evening bag to her ample chest. Wisps of gray escaped from her diamond pavé hair clip.
“Do you need any help, dear?” the woman asked.
“No, no, I’m fine, thanks. I’m just on my way to the revue. I hear it’s excellent.” Ruby turned and walked briskly down the corridor to the elevator. As briskly as she could on three-inch heels.
Damn Antony. What was she going to do now?
She stepped onto the elevator and leaned against the back wall as the car started down. Its lurch matched the one in her stomach. Snapping open the clasp on her beaded clutch, she pawed through it until her fingers closed on the malachite pebble in its tiny velvet bag. She felt calmer once she had it in her hand.
If only Lily were here. She would have known what to do.
They had found the pebble during one of Ruby’s visits to Vancouver, when they scoured the rocky beach for shiny rocks and semi-precious stones to add to their collection. After spotting the malachite half-buried in sand under waves lapping the shore, Lily splashed into the water after it, getting her sandals wet, and held it aloft with a grin.
Antony had not made the trip, of course. Too busy at the office. Lily was sorry he had not come. She had never been intimidated by Antony. She liked him, in fact. And though he was gruff with most everyone else, he had been gentle with Lily.
Ruby tightened her grip on the pebble, blinking rapidly. What happened to that rock collection? She dropped the pebble back into her handbag and snapped it shut. It was probably in that rental storage unit where Quentin put the things he couldn’t bear to look at any more.
The elevator door opened and Ruby walked out onto the promenade.
Chapter Thirteen
Antony leaned against the door of the Emperor Suite and ran his fingers down its surface, listening to Ruby whisper his name, until an unfamiliar voice said, ‘Is everything all right, dear?’
Antony scowled. Why were there so many interfering busybodies in the world? He straightened up and walked into the bedroom off the den. Dropping his wine-stained clothes on the floor, he reached for a pair of gray track pants and pulled them on. As he tugged a long-sleeved cashmere T-shirt over his head, a double rap sounded on the suite’s main door. He walked out and opened it.
Bogdan stared at him impassively.
Holding the door open, Antony shook his head.
“I still think this is a damned stupid idea. What if my wife comes back?”
“Not likely, after your performance in the dining room.”
Antony walked back into the bedroom, leaving the door open, ran a comb through his thinning hair and appraised the result in the mirror.
“What does Viktor want now? I thought the plan was to meet on Pintado Island. In fact—” He took a last look in the mirror and turned to face his visitor. “Why are you on this ship at all? Someone more cynical than I might think that your boss doesn’t trust me. But that couldn’t be the case, could it?”
“Viktor does not approve of your new plan.”
Antony narrowed his eyes. How could Viktor know about that?
“What new plan? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nothing’s changed. I give you the money and Viktor buggers off.”
“That was before you decided to disappear.”
Antony walked through the den into the living room and stepped behind the bar.
“Vodka?”
Bogdan shook his head.
Antony poured a shot of Talisker for himself and then walked to the stereo and turned it o
n. Listening to the rapid-fire piano chords that poured out, he nodded in recognition. Bach. Goldberg Variations. He strolled to the sofa and placed his glass on the coffee table.
“Listen,” he said, pronouncing every word, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Antony sat down and stretched his arms along the back of the sofa.
Bogdan perched on the arm of a chair facing him, shaking his head.
“The passports. Did you think Viktor wouldn’t find out?”
Antony studied Bogdan for a moment and then reached for his glass.
“What does it matter? After we dock at Pintado tomorrow you’ll be leaving the boat anyway. With my payment. That’s our deal. The bonds are fully negotiable. You don’t need me to cash them.” He shrugged. “Although, frankly, bearer bonds? Viktor is woefully behind the times.” Turning to the window, he sipped his Scotch.
“You must give them to us now.”
“I don’t think so. I don’t plan to take a header into the Caribbean. Besides, I don’t have them here. You’ll get them at the bank on Pintado Island as we arranged.”
“Viktor has another job for you after that.”
Antony’s chest tightened, and he placed his glass on the table.
“No, he doesn’t. I have one more payment to make and then our arrangement ends. Finito.”
Bodgan’s eyes narrowed, and the cobra writhed as his neck tightened. “Your arrangement ends when Viktor says so.”
“It doesn’t matter what Viktor wants. I can’t do anything else. The regulators would notice.”
“You will find a way.”
A breeze rippled the curtains at the open balcony doors. The music paused, and laughter from the pool three decks below drifted in.
Antony leaned forward.
“When we did the first deal, Carvon had cash flow problems. Our stated revenue, that is, the money we told shareholders we were earning, had diverged a bit from our actual revenue. We had—”
“Lied.”
“—overstated our revenue. Happens all the time. It’s an accounting thing. But unfortunately, this occurred at the same time that equities were experiencing a normal cyclical correction—”
