Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
We were all smiling wide and talking shit to each other through our teeth.
“Here we go,” I said to Leah and Bernard.
“These assholes better not destroy our toilets,” Leah murmured back, her southern accent making the curse word cute somehow, and her smile brilliant, as she threw a wave at the guests now climbing aboard.
Finn chimed in from the other side of her. “Judging by the very little I’m allowed to cook them, I’d be surprised if they shit at all.”
I bit back a laugh, holding the tray of champagne — Veuve, of course — steady as the guests dropped their shoes in the basket we’d provided and came aboard.
Unsurprisingly, they looked rich.
Theodora, the primary’s girlfriend, led the way, dressed in an all-white crochet dress that clung to her body like a second skin, the bikini underneath barely visible through the intricate weave. A designer tote dangled off her forearm, her manicured fingers adjusting her oversized sunglasses every few steps, as if to make sure the light hit her just right for the camera that was rolling behind her.
Our primary, Alistair, followed close behind, his salmon linen button-down unbuttoned halfway down his chest, revealing a golden tan and a chain that probably cost more than my yearly salary. He smirked like a man who had just bought an entire island and expected applause for it.
Benedict — the best friend — was already sweating through his designer polo, his Rolex catching the light as he clapped Alistair on the back. One look told me he was already blitzed out of his mind. And his wife Brielle moved like a woman who would rather be anywhere else, adjusting the strap of her cream-colored maxi dress with a pinched expression as she side-eyed her husband.
Max trailed behind the group, Alistair’s older brother who stood out like a sore thumb with his plain white tee and well-worn linen pants. He looked like someone had dragged him here against his will, his hands shoved in his pockets and eyes surveying the luxury yacht like it was a floating prison, instead.
It was a chaotic symphony of voices then, each guest coming down the line of crew members to shake hands and introduce themselves. I was their last stop, handing them each a cold, sparkling glass of champagne with a smile that came effortlessly after all these years. It didn’t matter that I knew they’d most likely be a pain in my ass — they controlled our tip at the end of this shit show, and it was my job to make sure it was a fat one.
“Welcome aboard the Sinking Sun,” Captain Gary said, clapping his hands together.
The way Theodora and Brielle smirked at each other once he spoke told me they were already enamored with his Australian accent. I didn’t blame them. Cap was hot.
“We’re thrilled to have you with us for the next few days,” he continued. “While the deck crew gets your bags settled and preps for departure, Ember will give you a quick tour of the yacht so you can get comfortable. Once we’re underway, we’ll be cruising along the Amalfi Coast, taking in the sights before dropping anchor near Capri this evening. If there’s anything at all you need, don’t hesitate to let us know.”
He flashed them a charming smile, and I swore Theodora actually swooned. Brielle was side-eyeing her husband again, as if she were daring him to look even half as interested in any of the female crew members as she was in Captain Gary.
I handed the empty champagne tray to Bernard to take care of before sweeping my hand toward the main salon. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you around.”
The guests followed, Alistair talking shit to his brother about loosening up while Brielle wrinkled her nose at the furniture like it wasn’t up to her standard. We started at the bar, Leah standing behind it with a beaming smile ready to fill drink orders.
Benedict ordered a round of tequila shots — even though they still had their champagne — while I detailed all the features in the main salon. Leah got to work, and Theodora curled her lip at the spread of food Finn had prepared for light snacks. It was everything he knew she could eat — organic hummus with crudités (with no leafy greens), avocado and cucumber sushi rolls with coconut aminos (sans any raw fish, of course), sprouted seed crackers with cashew cheese, a fruit platter carefully arranged by color gradient, and a bowl of activated almonds that Finn had begrudgingly soaked himself — but she plucked at each dish with a long fingernail like she didn’t trust it.
Then, as if she just remembered cameras exist, she gasped, smiled wide, and threw her arms around Alistair. “Bri, take a picture of us!”
Leah and I exchanged a look that said everything we couldn’t speak out loud.