Becoming Rain (Burying Water #2)(36)

I drop my voice to a hiss. “Fuck Andrei. Why aren’t we working with Aref?”

“Come find me at The Cellar when you have an answer.” The phone call ends, leaving my frustration skyrocketing. Why the hell is Rust even talking to those other idiots when Aref’s sitting here, practically begging?

Chapter 16

CLARA

“You have a beautiful home.” I follow Elmira down the path, lit by flaming torches that dance under the slightest breeze.

She smiles. “Thank you. It’s my favorite out of all of them, I think.”

She says it casually, but I roll my eyes nonetheless. Maybe it’s her prim Londoner accent that makes her sound so snooty. We sweep around a small pocket of guests and reach the dock. She glances down at my shoes. “You should remove those. I’ve broken plenty of heels over the years.”

Over the years? I’m still wondering if she’s even considered a legal adult. Regardless, I listen and slip my shoes off to save myself the embarrassment of hobbling home.

Elmira leads me down, down . . . down . . . past the speedboats, along an impossibly long dock that branches off, and toward the rope and a sign that reads, “Thank you for not boarding.”

“I didn’t think you could dock a boat like this privately,” I murmur, taking in Elmira’s name scrolled across the side.

“Enough money buys anything.” I follow her as she ducks under the rope. “This is Aref’s pride and joy. He bought it for me for my eighteenth birthday.”

“Nice birthday gift,” I offer, silently thinking back to my eighteenth birthday and the six-pack of woolen socks and case of Budweiser that my boyfriend at the time bought me. I didn’t like beer then, either.

“Aref can be a very generous man.” Something about the way she says that sounds off. Before I can ponder too much, she leads me through a narrow door and into an interior painted with money, in the form of shiny chrome and crystals and lacquered mahogany walls. The metallic ceiling reflects, and the sleek lighting illuminates, cocooning us in luxury.

It’s easy to forget why I’m here as I trail Elmira down marble winding staircases and narrow hallways, weaving in and out of small but lavish cabins, through three floors of sleek living spaces and open decks of white leather banquettes and wet bars.

“Do you spend a lot of time on here?” I ask as we end the tour on the top floor, a deck next to the captain’s command room. Elmira punches a code into a panel and the ceiling begins sliding open, revealing the yacht’s sunroof, now blanketed by an expanse of stars over the Columbia River.

“We usually spend our winters in the Cayman Islands. It’s quite comfortable on here, even though it’s a boat.”

“That sounds nice.” And unfortunate, given that I’d consider squatting if they happened to store this boat in a marina over the winter.

“We also sail along the Pacific seaboard every summer. It’s my favorite thing to do.” Elmira disappears behind a small bar to produce a bottle of Champagne and another glass. She delivers one to me without asking, even though I’m still nursing the full glass of wine in my hand. Normally I’d just dump a little at a time while no one was looking, but a place like this must be laced with surveillance video. Getting caught doing that would raise questions I don’t want asked. “Have you ever been on a cruise?”

I don’t even pretend. “No.”

“Well, we are here for a few more months. Perhaps we can host you and Luke one day soon.”

I’m sure it’s an empty offer, but I say, “I would love that.” If I can get enough dirt on Luke to convince a judge that this is worthwhile, maybe I’ll be around until then. But that’s a long time to string him along, hiding behind the guise of a physically abused woman still learning to trust men again.

“How long have you two been dating?”

I open my mouth to object to the term but catch myself. “Not long.”

“He’s very handsome. And young, too, right?” she says casually, sipping on her drink, curiosity dancing within her eyes, along with other thoughts that I can’t get a handle on.

“Yes, he is.” It’s all superficial conversation but I need to keep it going, regardless. “What about you and Aref?”

“I met Aref when I was sixteen. He was twenty-nine. Our parents arranged our marriage a year later.” When she sees my expression, a soft laugh escapes her lips that makes her suddenly sound much older. “He’s handsome, and extremely wealthy, so I didn’t object. That’s the only element of my culture I accepted, though. Otherwise I’ve fully embraced the Western way of thinking, much to my parents’ dismay.” She holds up her glass of Champagne, now almost empty, to prove a point, and fills it up again. A tiny body like hers can’t possibly handle that much alcohol, that fast.

“And Aref? Has he embraced the Western way of thinking?”

She shrugs noncommittally. “Mostly.”

Mostly. As in Elmira’s not 100 percent entirely satisfied, perhaps? It’s crazy, the things that people will admit to complete strangers when they’re unhappy. And drunk. Elmira’s shoulders are slouching just enough to tell me she’s probably tipsy by now. Plus, she sounds lonely. Lonely people are all too willing to answer questions.

I’d love to come right out and ask her what she means, but if I bide my time, I’ll get it out of her. “What do you do when you’re not on this yacht?”