by Stone, Piper
Laughter. Drinks on the deck. An eager teenager happy to get away from her parents for even a couple of hours.
Then the bloodcurdling screams. They were something I would now never forget. I closed my eyes briefly until the sound of the water churning from all sides reminded me that we were headed to some paradise location. I wasn’t even certain the where mattered any longer. Maybe getting away would do us both some good.
I wasn’t on the deck longer than two minutes before one of the crew members approached, asking if there was anything I would like, including from the main kitchen. Why not have a cocktail?
I eased onto one of the chairs and within two additional minutes, the drink was in my hand. The calming effect of the ocean as well as the views were breathtaking. Only minutes later, I realized that Christian stood alone on a portion of the deck that swung around to the back. His rigid position wasn’t relaxed in any manner, merely a man seeking solace from his demons.
He was even more gorgeous with his hair blowing in the wind, his tanned and muscular arms highlighted by the pristine sun. Perhaps this was as casual as I’d be allowed to see him. He glanced from right to left on a continual basis, allowing me to see his dark sunglasses. He was scanning for trouble, for pirates who were determined to shatter our hope at some kind of peace.
After studying him for a time, I couldn’t stand the quiet or the tension that remained between us. I made my way in his direction, uncertain what if anything I could say. I moved toward the railing, enjoying the sea spray lightly tickling my skin. The Bloody Mary was excellent, but for some reason I still felt the guilt and shame of everything that had occurred between us, making the taste bitter.
We stood in silence for some time, Christian never acknowledging my presence. I hated the tension between us.
“Thank you for the beautiful things. I have clothes, you know. They’re my things. You’re not going to turn me into some kind of Barbie doll.”
The silence was deafening.
“Anyway, thank you.”
When he finally spoke, I knew the words were coming from the depths of his soul.
“I’m not the monster you believe me to be. Have I done things I’m not proud of, taken chances and even made certain my enemies would never have an opportunity to threaten me? Yes. Have I allowed my love of money to drag me into purgatory? Absolutely. Have I ever destroyed a family? Unfortunately, yes, but I had my reasons. I can only promise you that I will be as truthful as possible with you, as honest as you need. However, there are some things that you will never know for your protection. Rest assured, I will never lay a finger on you in anger. And I will never try and turn you into a Barbie doll, Stephanie, but you are my wife and I’m allowed to shower you with presents if I deem that appropriate.”
The words were such an odd dichotomy that I had no idea how to respond, almost feeling guilty for my impetuous thoughts.
He would always be in control, no matter the circumstances.
He slowly turned his head in my direction and although I couldn’t see his eyes, I was able to read his expression.
His absolute conviction.
He was a man desperate to find something meaningful in his world.
And I knew that he would die trying.
* * *
Darkness.
The boat was surrounded by shadows of the moon, the wisp of clouds passing over the giant orb ominous in my mind. There was no reason for the jitters I felt, other than the realization that Christian would never allow me to get close to him. I stood in the beautiful cabin, staring out at the blank ocean merely catching my breath. His words had haunted me in an entirely different manner. I was no longer the girl I’d once been. Standing in one of the gorgeous dresses he’d purchased, I felt more like a princess than I ever had in my life.
What I also realized was that I felt sorry for him. He was nothing more than the black sheep in his family, his goal at pushing them and the sect out of his life foiled. Whatever enemies he had were ones ready to snatch his soul, as well as everything he’d worked so hard to achieve. That couldn’t happen.
I eased into the heels, rocking back and forth as I studied them. Everything matched, including the expensive underwear worn under the silky frock.
I’d kept him waiting long enough.
The sun had already dipped below the horizon, leaving a colorful blaze of streaks crisscrossing the sky as twilight set in. The moon was slowly rising, casting a shimmering glow across the water, the sea much less turbulent than before. As I walked along the deck, I heard the strains of jazz music coming from the main salon. Even the man’s taste in music was confounding, adding to his allure.
Before I entered, I could see him standing, a drink in one hand, a cigar in the other. He was simply staring out the window, the weight of the world more like huge boulders. He trusted no one. That much I already knew.
I walked in, more than impressed with the surroundings. Candles were lit everywhere, including on the gorgeously set table, crystal goblets rimmed in gold. The scent of something incredible made my tummy rumble and my mouth water, the exotic spices used filtering into my nostrils.
I could just make out his reflection in the clear glass, his expression one of consternation, but his eyes opened wide the moment I walked in. When he turned to face me, his head tilted and his staunch look softened. He was such a man of mystery; so bold in every phrase and action, yet tonight his appearance was much more seductive.
The charcoal linen pants suited his narrow hips perfectly, the dark shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, revealing a hint of his chiseled body. He seemed rakish, a rogue who refused to take no for an answer.
As his eyes swept down the length of me, the look was one of appreciation tinged with lust instead of the carnal desires he’d made no attempt at hiding earlier. He took several short puffs of the cigar, the scent wafting in my direction.
“You kept me waiting,” he said quietly with no malice in his voice.
“I’m sorry. I’m not used to strict schedules.” I walked closer, inhaling his musky cologne. I have no idea where he’d changed clothes or why he hadn’t returned to our suite. Maybe he’d simply allowed me time to prepare, a gesture of his commitment.
A member of the crew came in seconds later, ready to attend to my every need, eagerly preparing the Bombay and tonic I ordered. There was no rotgut liquor on board, only the finest in food and drink, shampoo supplies, and bubble bath. Everything seemed far too awkward, the entire moment what rich people required. I could only imagine the dinner being prepared. I preferred simpler things, had lived my entire adult life shoving aside almost everything I’d been brought up to believe.
Now this.
He remained tense, his eyes never leaving me as he snuffed out his cigar and walked closer. I could swear there was a swagger in his step as he did so. “We have a few minutes before dinner will be served.”
I held the thick crystal in my hand, fingering the cut glass out of nervousness. The closer he came, the more butterflies filled my stomach, squelching my appetite.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he whispered, the husky tone filtering over me like a velveteen blanket.
“Thank you. You have magnificent taste.” I brushed my hand down the front of my dress, hating the fact my arm was trembling.
His laugh was genuine. “I can’t take any credit. I had several women helping me pick out all the essentials.”
“But you had to give them some direction.”
He crowded my space, allowing his heated gaze to slide down from my face to the crease in between my breasts. “I told them my new bride was bold and fierce, a woman who commanded a room the moment she walked in.”
I hid behind my glass, taking small sips in an effort to calm my nerves. This kind of reaction was unusual, at least around a man I’d called a monster more than once. All my bravado had been stripped away, leaving me vulnerable to his dominating ways. At least the thought gave me a smile as my heart raced, my nipples
tightening into full arousal. I glanced down the floor, more self-conscious than I remembered being.
His chest rose and fell as he reached out, tentatively sliding his index finger under my chin. “I enjoy seeing your lovely face. Don’t look away from me.” Very slowly he lowered his head, brushing his lips across my cheek.
I was wet and hot all over, the blood rushing to my head. I wasn’t certain the reason for the full court press when I already belonged to him, but his touch was far too electrifying, the searing jolt stretching across every portion of my body. I palmed his chest, the intensity of our connection leaving me unable to think clearly.
He seemed to think I was pushing him away, his body stiffening as he eased back. “I have a phone call to make before dinner.”
I clutched his shirt, tugging him closer. “Don’t leave, Christian. This just isn’t me. Everything is so beautiful, but I’m not the girl you think I am. I don’t need expensive clothes or five-course meals. While I do appreciate what you’re trying to do, you don’t have to.”
He chuckled, rubbing his knuckles across my face. “You’re right. I don’t know you. I thought this would make you happy.”
I glanced around the room, drinking in the atmosphere. “Not really. Some of my favorite times were sitting on a blanket in the park, eating a salad from the grocery store or even a taco from one of the food trucks and listening to whatever musician just happened to be there that day. There was something so refreshing about the simplicity; the warmth from the sun, the light breeze, and the cloudless sky.”
I’d never known Christian to have difficulty confronting any situation, but he seemed surprised, unable to think of a response.
“But I will enjoy this.” I gestured toward the table just as two servers brought in various plates of food, placing them on the table in a just-so pattern. I watched them as they worked, positioning everything then pouring a dark red wine, both waiting for Christian’s approval.
I’d never seen servers with such dreaded anticipation on their faces.
Christian lifted a single eyebrow before guiding me toward the table, studying my reaction.
The amount of food was tremendous, luscious, the fragrance coming from every dish exquisite. Everything was so beautiful. I only half heard the words as one of the servers described the meal.
Lobster tail sprinkled with herbs and coated in a lightly whipped mandarin orange butter. Petite and very rare filets with a raspberry au jus. Seared scallops. Mussels with white wine and fresh tomatoes. The list went on and while my tummy rumbled, I had no desire to eat.
Christian studied my face, finally shaking his head. “What would you prefer to have?”
“Really?”
“Really.”
I bit my lower lip before answering. “A cheeseburger with French fries, heavy on the mayonnaise and ketchup.” I gave him a mischievous look, waiting for him to disapprove.
“A cheeseburger. I honestly can’t remember the last time I had one. Sounds delicious. And I assume that the setting is far too formal?” he asked, an amused look on his face.
“It’s a beautiful evening. We could eat on the deck under the stars.”
He inhaled, finally breaking into a smile as he nodded toward the servers. “You heard the lady. Thank the chef very much but she’d prefer a cheeseburger and you can serve our dinners on the deck.”
Instead of the two young men acting in frustration, they seemed pleased, even giving me a nod of approval.
“Yes, sir,” one of them said.
Christian waited until they started clearing the plates before giving me another shake of his head. “You do surprise me and very few people do so. Let’s go out on the deck.”
He watched with near fascination as I kicked off my shoes, even removing the pins holding my long hair into a woven bun.
“You honestly haven’t had a cheeseburger for a long time?” I asked as he led me up the stairs and outside.
“Years.” His laugh was less formal than before, his demeanor far more relaxed. “And I honestly have no idea why.”
What surprised me the most was his relaxation and the laughter we shared. There was no talk about danger or boogeymen who might come in the middle of the night. As we both sat cross-legged on the deck, the bubbling water just inches away, we discussed everything from our tastes in music to movies. He’d even removed his shoes, appearing much more like a man on vacation than a wealthy mogul.
And maybe that was the moment that I knew I could fall in love with him, the realization more terrifying than the man himself. I’d never been in love, only having a few moments of intimacy, some the product of stupid decisions made during college. Perhaps I’d always known that I’d be forced into some kind of arrangement. He edged closer, his eyes more penetrating than ever.
“What happened when you were young?” His words were said with such reverence.
“When I was sick?”
He nodded, picking at his food. “As you can imagine, I was never told any of the details.”
“Does that mean you asked?”
Christian sighed. “On several occasions. My father simply said your illness was a family matter.”
I slathered two French fries with ketchup, surprised he’d bothered to ask. Or care. “I don’t know exactly all the details. I had several blood transfusions, my parents commenting that I was anemic. I had no idea what that meant at the time. I just knew doctors were sticking me with needles, forcing me to stay away from my friends.”
“Your parents never told you everything?”
His indignation was almost sweet. “They always wanted to protect me. I was terrified of the hospital, nightmares plaguing me. They tried to make certain I had happy memories.” I almost choked on the fried food. “As if that could ever happen. I was nothing more than a pincushion.”
“And you never bothered to find out later?”
I wasn’t certain I wanted to tell him just how many times I had asked, only to be shut down as if my concerns didn’t matter. “My father insisted that what had occurred was in the past and I should focus on my future. Honestly, I’m not certain it matters at this point. I’m healthy and happy.”
“And no continuing medication?”
I almost absently rubbed my arm, remembering the last needle I’d been given. “Nothing. Why are you asking me this?”
Christian glanced toward the water, his brow furrowed. “Just curious.”
I knew better. What was he concerned about? “I don’t believe you. What do you suspect is going on?”
He sat back, pushing the plate aside and grabbing his drink. “When I was a young child, I attended my first christening of a baby girl born to one of the community members. I was fascinated by the beautiful, ornate box that would belong to the family and given my curiosity, I asked my parents what was inside. I’ll never forget the look on my mother’s face, as if I’d asked a terrible question. My father took me aside and away from the others to tell me that the contents were vital to our community but that they were secret, only known by the church. As you might imagine, for a five-year-old boy, that was far too tempting.” A slight chuckle pushed past his lips.
I studied his face, the myriad emotions flowing. “You opened one of the boxes. Didn’t you?”
“At that point, my father spent a good deal of time with Father McGivney. I begged him often to allow me to go with him one day. The church fascinated me, all the dark hiding places. I was just a kid, playing hide and seek with my imaginary friends. On the day before the second christening I attended, my father had another meeting with the priest in Father McGivney’s office, leaving me alone. I began doing what kids will do left unattended.”
“You snooped,” I whispered.
“Yes. The old church is a haven for blocked-off hallways and junkets to the basement. I was a fearless boy, hungering to discover all the dirty little secrets.” He chuckled, the tone laced with pure evil. “There wasn’t a place I couldn’t get into. But there was one door that
was locked, the padlock shiny and new.”
“You broke in.”
He rubbed his finger down the side of my face, creating a wave of goosebumps. “Yes. Didn’t take much. The place was musty and damp, thick drapes covering the two small windows. It was barren except for an old wooden table and a steel vault. I recognized the boxes, just like the ones at the christening. There were at least twelve of them, maybe more, all lined up with their lids open. Even from where I stood, I could see the red velvet lining every one of them.”
I leaned forward, my pulse skipping. “And?”
“I examined every one of them.” He titled his head, lifting a single eyebrow. “I could read very well for a little boy. Every box contained a male name. I recognized a few as buddies of mine, you know, the kids on the street that I played soccer with or went to private school with. I had no understanding of the sect at that time. I just thought it was odd a picture and a name had been placed in the boxes. All the bullshit the sect members actually believe about God providing trinkets of gold and jewels is fucking crap. I already knew my father held a place of importance; I just didn’t know how far reaching.”
“The Council.” For some reason, every part of me was shivering. “Did you find anything else in the boxes?” I wasn’t entirely certain I wanted to hear the answer but the look he gave me chilled me to the bone.
“Not until I found the box that included my name and picture as well as that of a girl. Jasmine Samantha Crosby. The slip of paper also included the birthdate, which was one month earlier.”
He allowed the information to sink in. I blinked several times, my heart racing to the point I had difficulty swallowing. “Wait a minute. The little girl who was being christened the next day.”
“Exactly. Do you recognize the name?”
I shrank back, trying to remember where I’d heard it from. “Oh, God. That was Marcus Crosby’s little girl, the man who was murdered. Wait a minute. My father told me that the reason Marcus was murdered was because his daughter refused the requirements from the Box.”
“That was Marcus’ older daughter and she died in a horrific accident not long after her refusal. However, I’d overheard a conversation on another occasion. Mr. Crosby was given another chance to redeem himself with the sect.”
