The Do-Over (The Miles High Club #4)(87)

How in the hell are we supposed to man this vessel? We have no fucking idea what we’re doing.

Oh . . . shit. I feel myself get hot under the collar.

OBSIDIAN.

That name . . . I frown. It’s familiar.

Obsidian . . . how do I know this yacht? I troll my mind for a memory of some sort.

“Is it always moored here?” I ask as I act casual.

“No, it’s usually in Monte Carlo.”

“Right.” I watch the Grand Prix from our yacht in Monte Carlo every year. Let’s hope it’s just from there.

Hayden’s scared eyes flick over to meet mine. “What the hell?” she whispers.

“It’s fine,” I mouth.

This is anything but fine. This is a living nightmare.

We walk across the bridge and onto the yacht, and over-the-top luxury hits us in the face.

A huge deck with a spa and plunge pool, an outdoor lounge area, bar—everything is the most beautiful wood and finished to perfection. I look around. Hmm . . . not bad.

We glance through the double doors into the inside. A huge luxurious living area with plush furnishings. An elevator and stairs going up and down are to the right, as well as a large corridor.

“Wow,” everyone whispers in awe as they look around.

“Come, and I’ll show you to the servants’ quarters belowdecks. We need to get ready. The owner is boarding tonight with a group of his friends.”

“Who owns this vessel?” I ask.

“Julian Masters,” he replies.

Fuck.

“Where’s he from?” I ask as I act dumb.

“The United Kingdom. Loaded, as you can tell. Old family money . . . but he’s a judge. He has his extended family from Australia over here for a bachelor party.”

The blood drains from my face. I know them. I know them all.

Julian Masters is one of my brother Jameson’s best friends. They went to boarding school together.

I’m totally fucked.





Chapter 19


“Put your bags down, and I’ll show you around,” Captain Mark says. He’s holding a clipboard under his arm. We do as he asks and follow him around the yacht. “On this level, you have the living area and formal dining, cinema, and two bathrooms.” Three huge white couches are around an apricot marble coffee table. The floors are all herringbone dark timber with big cream exotic rugs. Stunning art hangs on the walls.

It is beautiful . . . I’ll give it that.

“Wow.” Everyone gushes in awe.

I trail behind while desperately trying to devise an escape plan.

Man overboard is sounding very fucking appealing.

“Upstairs.” He takes the stairs, and we follow him up. “Another large living area, casual dining, and cocktail bar. There are four guest bedrooms on this floor.”

“Oh my god.” Hayden’s eyes are the size of saucers, and she grabs my hand. “Can you believe this place, babe?” she whispers in awe. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Meh . . . I raise my eyebrow as I look around . . . my yacht is better.

“Top floor, master suite.” We walk up another level, which is all bedroom, with 360-degree views. A huge bathroom with a sunken spa bath and walk-in his-and-hers wardrobes.

Now this is nice.

“Through here”—he slides open a hidden door—“is the nursery. Mr. Masters likes his children close.” We peer in to see two cots and two single beds. Toys and books are all displayed. The room is all pastels and decorated prettily.

“Is there a nanny on board when they’re here?” Hayden asks.

“No. They don’t have a nanny; they do all the parenting themselves.”

Hayden smiles over at me and squeezes my hand. “I like them already,” she whispers. “I would never have a nanny.”

I frown. What? No nanny . . . at all . . . like, ever?

When do you get to fuck your wife if you don’t have a nanny? Are you supposed to get sex for five minutes only at night or something? Ugh . . . that won’t be happening in my household.

I’ll have four nannies on rotation.

Actually . . . I smile as I remember something.

Masters’s wife was his nanny. She’s fucking hot too.

I bite my lip to hide my smile. Dirty bastard. Wonder how that went down?

“Let’s go down to belowdecks, where you’ll be staying,” Captain Mark continues. We follow him down three levels. “This is the kitchen.”

He shows us around. “Helga, the cook, will be here this afternoon. You will all rotate being her assistant. She runs a tight ship.” He frowns and pauses as if choosing his words carefully. “She’s an interesting character.”

Great, that’s code for she’s a bitch.

“Here’s the staff living quarters. Three bedrooms. One is for Helga; she rooms alone. A double with two single beds, and the other has four sets of bunk beds.”

“Hayden and I have the double,” I announce before anyone else has the chance to.

“Yeah, yeah,” they all mutter.

“So.” Captain Mark smiles. “That’s our lady. I hope you’ll be very comfortable and happy here. Take the morning to settle in and make yourself at home. This afternoon we’ll do some training, and then our guests will be joining us around six p.m.”