by Cherry Adair
“Then my selling her will solve both our problems, won’t it?”
“You can’t sell her. Not without my signature. Or my dead body.”
She arched a brow. “I can hope for either.”
“And you’ll get neither. I have a lucrative salvage near the Maldives. I need Tesoro Mio now.” Needed his ship, his wife, his fucking life back on track. Had to salvage that silver. Had. To.
She set the earrings on the mirror-topped bedside table, then returned the lamp to the table, straightening the elegant black-and-gold lampshade. She gave him a cool look. “Then you’re ship out of luck, ’cause you’re not getting Tesoro Mio.”
“Addy…”
Her eyes darkened, and her shoulders tensed. “Get off my ship, Rydell. You can leave on your own, or I’ll have you dragged off. Your choice.”
The smooth vibration of the powerful engines was in counterpoint to the erratic throb as his blood coursed through his body. Just looking at her. And that was with ten feet and powerful emotions pulsing between them akin to the 4,250-meter span over the 8,000-meter drop inside the fucking Kermadec Trench.
He stuffed his fingers farther into the back pockets of his jeans to keep from grabbing her. His life was so fucked now, he had to put out one fire at a time. “We’ve set sail,” he informed her flatly.
Two
Rydell’s gaze swept over her in a heated stroke that made Addison’s hackles rise. She adroitly ignored the way her treacherous heart skipped several beats.
Born and raised in Minneapolis, he’d made his home base in London where he kept a flat. But home had been Sea Dragon. When he was pissed off his British accent became more pronounced. Like now.
He was pissed off?
He. Was. Freaking angry?
Talk about a day late and a dollar short. He was the last damn person on the planet who should be pissed off. Just looking at him made her feel homicidal. It made her feel other things, too. Things she had no business feeling. Rydell Case radiated sex appeal in spades. Thank God she was immune.
Her brain computed what he’d just said, and with horror she felt the throb of the engines beneath her feet. She’d thought the sensation was just the speed of her blood racing through her veins and pounding in her ears at the sight of him. “What the hell? Damn it. I didn’t give my captain permission—”
“Seddeth takes his orders from me now, Addy.” His lips thinned as he crossed his arms over his chest. At least he was fully dressed; the man was fond of walking around the ship semi-naked half the time. Tonight he had on his favorite jeans, worn almost white over his thighs, and a black T-shirt that stretched over his six-pack as if painted on his body. Not an ounce of fat on him. Just tightly honed muscles from hard physical labor. Get a bigger shirt!
She felt feral. Caged. Don’t, she warned herself. Just don’t. Don’t stoop to his level. Don’t hit or bite or show fear.
She wanted to do all of it. Fight dirty. Hit. Bite, and God only knew, seeing him again made her heart race and her palms sweat with fear that she’d succumb to the same lust that had swept her away the first time they met.
Loving Rydell Case was dangerous to a woman’s mental health. Thank God she felt nothing for him now other than a strong desire to shove him overboard into shark-infested waters.
Irritation spiked and spread in a heated rush as he stood there as if he owned the ship, her, and everything he surveyed.
I hate you.
Tall, he had shoulders almost as wide as the doorway, huge hands, strong muscular legs, and big … everything in between. His dark hair, always finger-combed, hung to his shoulders, and he’d needed a shave two or three days ago. Everything about Rydell Case was large and dark. Addison’s skin felt hot and too tight.
Usually taciturn and very private, he never wore emotion on his sleeve. It had always maddened her, until she learned that just because he didn’t show feelings didn’t mean he didn’t have them. His favorite place to show her how he felt was in bed. When they were both naked, he let his feelings fly.
He could be charming and would, if he put his mind to it, even be amusing. But under that were dark corners even the sunlight couldn’t reach. She’d had glimpses in the two years they’d been married, but she saw not even a sliver of light in him now.
Addison had never felt as safe and loved as when she’d been in Rydell’s arms. And never so scared and lonely as when their divorce had become final. A pang squeezed the air from her lungs.
“We’re en route to pick up my divers, then going directly to the Maldives. Your choices are limited; be glad I’m giving you a choice at all. We could’ve set sail while you and Darshi were having that cozy dinner at Le Louis XV Alain Ducasse.”
Her heart kicked into overdrive as fury built and adrenaline surged through her entire body, making her hyper-aware of him standing there so freaking sure of himself and his place in the world. Not her world anymore. But he was like a damn five-hundred-pound gorilla, sweeping back into her life as if nothing had happened and he could do any damn thing he wanted.
She narrowed her eyes, wanting to go for his throat but standing her ground, hands clenched at her sides. “Did you have someone spying on me at Hôtel de Paris?”
“I had an aperitif at the bar there before boarding.”
That had been four damn hours ago. “That’s outrageous!” Damn him and his bulldozer ways. Even though she hadn’t heard from his family about his ship being hijacked, she believed him. That didn’t mean she wanted him on board her ship. Or anywhere near her. Just looking at him was an agonizing reminder of all she’d lost.
Rydell Case could go to hell. She straightened her spine and gave him a look that would’ve made her haughty, superior mother proud. “Then I guess you’ll be swimming back to Cannes.”
“Sorry, sweetheart. Not gonna happen. There’s a chopper on standby to take you back to the city if you want to leave. I’m staying.”
She saw the lights of Cannes twinkling goodbye through the large window behind him.
“This salvage is more important than you hating my guts.”
She swiveled her attention back on him. “Nothing is more important than me hating your guts, Rydell Case. Not a damn thing. And I don’t see that changing in the next century.”
He looked right at her, but as usual she couldn’t read any emotion behind his steel-gray eyes.
His voice dropped several octaves and a muscle jumped in his jaw as he said harshly, “We have to talk about Sophia sometime, Addy.”
The blood drained from her head, leaving her dizzy and sick to her stomach. Wrapping her arms tightly around her waist was little comfort. “Don’t. You. Ever. Mention. Her. Name. Not ever!”
“I feel the same pain.”
Pain. Such a mild word for how she felt. He had no freaking idea. “Impossible. Don’t—” She held up her hand to stop what he was about to say. “Just. Don’t. All I have to do is yell, and my crew will be in here in seconds to bodily remove you.” Only because she knew she didn’t have the physical strength to kill him herself.
“I’ll shoot the first person coming through that door.” He looked grim and deadly serious.
“You’re armed now?” she asked, appalled.
“My ship was just hijacked. Hell yeah I’m armed.”
“Is your intention to take Tesoro Mio at gunpoint then? Hijack her? Hijack me?”
“Everyone on board has accepted the reality. Like the crew, you’ve been given the option of declining and returning to Cannes.”
“I’m not going to wrestle you for possession. And I’m certainly not leaving you to do whatever you please with my ship! I have plans. Plans that don’t include you, or a side trip! I’m hosting guests for the trip to Australia. It’s all arranged—”
“You’ll get to Australia—eventually. Your sainted mother and the prince also have the option of not coming on this voyage, or they can opt to spend quality time sunbathing in the Maldives on a salvage operation.”
Rydell
and Hollis did not get along. The list of reasons he and her mother disliked each other was endless. “No. We’re leaving for a leisurely sail to Sydney on Wednesday. I have an appointment there that I can’t miss.” Selling Tesoro Mio for one thing; appeasing her mother for another. And she’d promised Naveen an answer when they arrived in Sydney. He’d been pretty insistent on coming in with her tonight to “seal the deal.” He’d keep trying in the weeks leading up to Sydney.
Shit and double shit.
“You’ll miss it.” Rydell’s voice was hard, his expression closed and, as always, impossible to read. The Sphinx had nothing on Rydell. “You can’t sell her, Addison. It’s in the legalese. Read that again. And you won’t be in Sydney anytime soon, unless you take a commercial flight. This ship is going back to what she was built for. Salvage. It’s either take the chopper back to Cannes or come with me to the dive site.”
How had he known about the pending sale? Her fingers tightened on the door handle, breasts rising and falling with her agitated breathing. She hated being cornered. Hated, hated being bullied, and she hated how sexy and appealing Rydell looked. Apparently hating him with all her heart didn’t mean her body felt the same way. She’d beat it into alignment as soon as he was out of her cabin and she didn’t have to look at him or smell that fresh sea air on his tanned skin.
“You denigrate hijackers, yet that’s exactly what you’re doing. This is despicable and low, even for you.”
“You have no idea how low I’d go for something important to me.”
“No. I really don’t. Probably because it’s impossible to tell one damn way or another what’s important to you. When the chips are down, when it really counts—you’re gone so fast you’re a damn blur.” Sucking in a shaky, oxygen-necessary breath felt like dragging in tiny slivers of lacerating glass. Let him feel the cold shoulder and see how he liked it.
“Once I gave a damn. Now? Not so much. I’m going to Sydney, and I’m not taking any freaking detour to India or the Maldives to get there!”
“We’re both traveling through the Suez Canal.”
“We’re scheduled to go through in a week. You aren’t going anywhere without permission from the Suez Canal Authority prior to transit. And they won’t change the date so close to sailing.” Unless of course he bribed them.
“Already taken care of.”
He’d bribed them.
There was something—something she couldn’t read or even decipher about his expression that made Addison stop pushing back. They’d never had a clean break. He’d left, no communication until she’d received the notice of divorce. He hadn’t felt that warranted an explanation. And now he was back? Still no explanation. Rydell Case was a law unto himself.
Maybe this was about his ship being hijacked. That would be an enormous financial slam to anyone. He wasn’t just anyone.
The financial trouble would be a bigger loss for him because it meant more than just him going broke. Losing his ship meant more than not having a beloved vessel.
His ship was his whole life. Treasure hunting and sailing the seven seas was Rydell’s lifeblood. It’s what got him up in the morning, what allowed him to subsist on five hours of sleep a night. So yes, she got that he needed to do this salvage, whatever it was. But was she reading more into his inscrutable expression than really met the eye? “What about divers?”
He didn’t huff out a deep breath, but his very stillness implied that that relieved breath was being held tightly inside him. “Picking them up in Mangalore in a few days.”
India? “Why didn’t you find a wreck in the Mediterranean?” Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on? Why is this trip so important? Because it was important, Addison was sure of it. “Why do you have to commandeer my ship to go halfway around the damn world?”
“Because my wreck is two hundred miles from the Maldives.”
“Rent a dive boat—”
“I have a fully equipped dive boat. This is it. There’s no point arguing, Addy. I’m not forcing you to accompany me. You can get the hell off anytime you like. I told you, I’ll have someone fly you back to Cannes in the chopper. It’s not too late.”
As taut as a bowstring, Addison shot death rays from her eyes when he taunted, “Go if you’re too chicken to share space with me for a few weeks.”
Even knowing what he was doing, she stepped right into it. “Abandon my ship? Not just no, Case. Hell no!” She hesitated a beat. “Is Callie coming?” she demanded, referring to his sister-in-law, and one of her best friends, and one of the best marine archaeologists around. Having her friend there would make this bearable …
“She defected to the Cutters,” he said coldly. “So no.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Rydell! She didn’t defect. You sent her there to spy on Jonah Cutter and sabotage his dive. Serves you right that they fell for each other.” Addy threw up her hands. “Who then?” she demanded through clenched teeth. Entire body rigid, she braced for an emotional blow.
Shit. She didn’t want to see any of his regular team, he must know that.
“I need my best, and I’m damn fortunate to get them for this job. Len, Sam, MoMo, Georgeo, Kev.”
The same people who’d been on board that fateful worst day of her life. Addison dropped down on the side of the bed and pressed her fingertips against her mouth for a moment, then dropped her hand into her lap, feeling cold and hollow, as though she’d been crying for months. “You sadistic bastard,” she whispered through numb lips. “I’ll hate you forever for this.”
He shrugged. “What’s new?”
She got to her feet, body rigid with anger. The heavily beaded dress swished and hissed like sea serpents around her legs as she stalked to the door and wrenched it open. “I want to see you as little as possible,” Not sure if her heart was even beating, Addison’s voice dripped icicles as she tried to hold it together. But her eyelids prickled, and the pressure on her chest wound tighter and tighter.
It was too soon to relive that day. Too damn soon. Just as it was much too soon to see Rydell again. A flood of mixed emotions rushed her like a tsunami as she held on to the solid door to ground herself.
“Fine by me. All I want is the ship.” He walked to the door. Smelling the salty sea air on him mixed with the spicy soap he favored made her stupid, stupid heart do flip-flops.
“Do whatever the fuck you want.” His deep voice sounded impersonal. “As long as it doesn’t impact what I’m here to do.”
She didn’t flinch at his hard tone, just tilted her head to meet his gaze head-on. “I presume you’ve already settled in?” said the woman who wished him stone-cold dead and gone.
“Next door. The dive team will need the other cabins when they arrive.”
“What am I supposed to do with my guests?”
He shrugged.
Her lips tightened. “How long do you expect this to take?”
“It’s a simple salvage.” He stopped a few feet away from her, nostrils flaring like a stallion scenting a mare. “Ten days.”
That was pretty precise. Tilting her chin pugnaciously, she indicated the open doorway with a regal sweep of her hand. “I’ll set a countdown clock.”
* * *
Sitting at a small outdoor café on the Via Venti in Genoa, Addison sipped a cappuccino, waiting for the shops in the Via Soziglia—the Medieval District—to open.
The sun had yet to climb from behind the buildings, and she snugged the lightweight black cashmere cape around her shoulders. Even with the short covering, it wasn’t nearly warm enough to wear the sleeveless white linen, Riccardo Tisci, or the Louboutin five-inch heeled sandals with bare legs. But she was dressed for war and willing to use every weapon in her arsenal. Even if she had goose bumps.
Okay, maybe it was childish to reroute the ship while Rydell slept, but she didn’t care. He had no right to commandeer her property. And certainly no right to kidnap her. Just because he was on a timetable didn’t mean she had to comply. She’d scheduled th
is quick buying trip today long before her ex-husband decided to barge back into her life in his typical bulldozer way.
There was a darling little shop with beautiful clothes from a talented, as-yet-undiscovered new designer. The velvets were exquisite, but the last time she’d been here, the shop was about to close for the day. Despite everything, she still had a job to do. Her weekly fashion blog attracted hundreds of thousands of followers all around the world. Her books on where to shop for the best bargains from top designers and where to find the hidden shopping treasures in major cities were national best sellers. She was currently writing book number six: Hidden Style Treasures of the Liguria Region.
Her readers wanted to know what, where, and how much, and Addison made sure she delivered. She was a success. A success with a gaping hole in her heart that nothing and no one would ever fill again.
Right now, vapid worked as insulation for her. Maybe she’d never feel excitement and hope ever again. She rotated her foot to admire the bright-orange polish on her toes, and the way the sculptural harness of white-and-bone-colored crossover straps wrapped around her ankle. Nothing gave a woman more confidence than a great pair of shoes and a good pedi. But the reality was, some days her writing was the only thing that got her out of bed every morning.
Nothing infuriated or scared her more than seeing Rydell face-to-face again. A year hadn’t done a damn thing to heal her wounds. She’d never forget. And having him right in her face was akin to ripping a Band-Aid off a still-festering wound.
She didn’t want him anywhere near her. His presence made no sense at all. Knowing how she felt, he should be renting a dive boat. He could afford it. Rydell wasn’t going to tell her what was behind this sudden and unexpected trip, but his sister or Callie might know. Addy had struck out when she tried calling her best friends and ex-sisters-in-law Callie and Peri.
In the last year her friendship with Rydell’s family had deteriorated, too. They blamed her for the divorce. In the last few months a tenuous return to their friendship was starting to bloom again. Addison missed them.
