The Ruthless Gentleman(55)

The sun was up but the light was dusky, as if the day’s eyes weren’t fully open yet. The streets were quiet, shutters still closed. I didn’t know how long I’d been walking so I glanced at my watch. It was twenty minutes before the tender left for the yacht. I’d be fine. I was only a few minutes away.

I passed a man unloading boxes of vegetables from the back of his Vespa and waved. “Buongiorno,” he called.

“It’s a beautiful morning,” I replied, even though I knew he probably wouldn’t understand me. But it was a beautiful morning and I wanted to shout it out loud. A joyous morning after an incredible night.

Running into Hayden at the theater had seemed like a coincidence, but today it felt bigger than that. As though it had been inevitable. I glanced down, embarrassed at the images flashing through my head. The things he’d done with my body? No man had ever made me feel the way Hayden had. He’d unlocked a whole different part of me last night, discovered someone I didn’t know existed. Hayden looked at me as though he knew exactly what I was thinking at every moment—the need, the desire, the vulnerability—as though we’d connected body and mind.

I turned left, and the road sloped steeply under me as it led down to the harbor. I didn’t feel tired. We must have fallen asleep at some point because when I’d woken, I’d been tucked into Hayden’s body, my back to his front, and I’d had to lift his heavy arm from around my waist to escape. I grinned. I couldn’t wait to see him later.

The shore came into view and I spotted the tender immediately. Eric was bent over looking at something, but he was the only one there. He wouldn’t have been expecting me to stay on the mainland last night. I was the one known for enforcing the rules, not breaking them. Of course, no one could find out what had happened between Hayden and me. We hadn’t discussed it, but things had to remain as they’d always been. Nothing had changed. Yesterday was yesterday. Last night was last night. Today Hayden would return to being my client.

Unease settled in my stomach. That wasn’t what I wanted. The thought of going the rest of my life without feeling how I did last night, without spending more time with the man who could elicit the sounds, feelings and memories that Hayden had, tasted like vinegar on my tongue.

Lost in thought, my mood slightly soured, I turned right as I reached the seafront. It was deserted other than a man on a bench facing the sea and reading a newspaper. He closed it as I approached and smiled. He didn’t take his eyes off me as I continued toward him, which wouldn’t have bothered me because Italians tended to be . . . obvious in what they found interesting. But this man wasn’t Italian. His hair was ginger and his newspaper was British.

“Avery?” he asked.

I stopped and fixed my mouth with a professional grin. “Do I know you?”

“No,” he said as he set his newspaper beside him and stood. “I’m Phil and I know you work on the Athena. I was rather hoping I could ask you a couple of questions.”

It was usually paparazzi rather than journalists who approached the crew, but this guy knew my name. He didn’t seem like a journalist either. I stepped away from him and continued back to the tender, aware of him following me, my heart beginning to clatter in my chest. Without the slope of the hill to give me height, I’d lost sight of Eric, but he must have been less than a two-minute walk away. How had this man known my name and what did he want?

“You’re a stewardess on the Athena, I understand.”

I didn’t react, just concentrated on keeping my gait steady, but the stranger caught up. No doubt he’d be able to outrun me if I was to break into a sprint. He wasn’t big, but he was stocky and fit looking. The rich liked to use the phrase that wealth attracted wealth but all too often I’d found that wealth attracted trouble.

“It’s a beautiful yacht,” he said.

He was right, but I wasn’t going to engage with him.

“What do you know about Hayden Wolf?” he asked, as if we were talking about the weather.

Did he know Hayden? Who was this guy?

“I’m doing some research. I need some information.”

If this guy was a friend of Hayden’s, he had no need to approach me. And if he wasn’t a friend, did that make him an enemy?

“I just want to know what he’s working on. Who does he talk to on the phone? That kind of thing.”

I kept walking and kept quiet even though I really wanted to ask him who he was and what he wanted information on Hayden for.

“I can offer you money,” he said. “Five thousand US dollars.”

Five thousand dollars? That was a big sum of money. I couldn’t remember being offered more than a few hundred, even when big Hollywood stars were on board. And how did this Phil guy even know Hayden was on the boat? And how did he know who I was? I shrugged. “I have nothing to say.”

“Think about,” he said. “There’s nothing to lose. I just want a few innocuous details and you’ll get a lot of money in return.”

It was a lot of money.

“You could shop. Travel. What would you spend it on?”

An extra five thousand dollars worked out to over thirty physical therapy sessions. That was nearly seven weeks of care for my brother. But I couldn’t sell Hayden out. I knew how private he was. “I don’t know any details. I just serve dinner and change bedding.”