After Vanessa snaps a picture of me with the little guy, I let him go.
Dinner time is approaching, so I tell the captain we need to head back.
Vanessa lets out a dreamy sigh and my eyebrow rises. “What was that sound for?”
“It’s kind of sexy hearing you speak Greek.” The way her cheeks turn pink I have a feeling she finds it more appealing than the words kind of portray.
“There are other languages I’m far more fluent in.”
“Like what?” She gives me a narrowed eyed look like she expects me to say something cheesy about language between the sheets.
“Well,” I look out at the waves as we glide over them, “Spanish for one. French and Italian. German. Japanese and Chinese. Those are just the ones I’m fluent in. Obviously, I speak a fair bit of Greek. I know a decent amount of Korean. A tiny bit of Russian. Some Hindi too.”
She lowers her sunglasses, eyes narrowed in speculation. “You’re dead serious, aren’t you?”
I laugh, not at all offended. “Why does everyone always doubt me? It’s not some line when I say I have a genius level IQ. And—” I can’t stop myself from reaching over and drawing my finger around her bare knee. “I happen to have a fondness for linguistics.”
“You are the most fascinating person I’ve ever met.”
“And that’s the best compliment I’ve ever received.”
Back on land, we hop on the moped I rented for the day. It’s worth every penny for the simple fact that it forces Vanessa to hold on, pressed firmly against my back.
She lets out a shrill shriek as I speed down the streets, heading in the direction of where the yacht is docked off a different part of the island.
When we get off the moped, Vanessa removes her helmet shaking her hair free. I’m hit once again with a rush of desire. I’ve been good for way too long. I want her in every possible way, and I know she feels the same.
“What are you smiling about?” Her laughter carries on the wind. She reaches up, trying to keep her hair from flying in her face, but it’s a futile attempt.
“Nothing.”
Lie.
“Liar.”
I grin, shoving my hands into the pockets of my board shorts. “Just admiring the view.”
“You were staring at me.”
“Like I said,” my smile grows bigger, “admiring the view.”
She turns away from my scrutiny like it embarrasses her. Closing the distance between us, I wrap my hand around her wrist, and with the fingers of my other hand, I lift her chin. “Don’t hide from me.” She opens her mouth to protest, but I don’t give her the chance to speak.
She moans at the first touch of our lips. If I had any lingering doubts about whether or not she wants this, that sound alone erases those fears. Her hands splay across my stomach, the heat of her skin seeping into mine even through the cotton of my shirt. She presses up on her tiptoes, trying to get closer to me. I love how fucking eager she is for me.
“You want me,” I growl against her lips. “Now admit it to me.” Stubborn girl that she is, she tries to ignore my request, but I’m not having it. I’m not letting her avoid this. Grabbing her elbows, I force her back, and she mewls in protest at the loss of contact. “Tell me what I want to hear, Vanessa.”
Hooded eyes hazy with lust flutter up at me. “No.”
“So fucking defiant.” Lowering my voice to a whisper, I say, “I should spank you for it.”
Her tiny gasp sends blood rushing to my dick.
I give her a long, slow kiss and step away. “You will be mine. In every possible way.”
When she doesn’t protest, I know she’s finally realized what I’ve known for a while. We’re inevitable.
My dad places his napkin on his plate, his signal that he’s finished with dinner. He stands, smoothing his hand down his pressed shirt. “Son, I’d like to speak with you in my office.”
Yeah, my dad has an office on his fucking yacht.
“I’m still eating my dessert.” I didn’t used to balk him this much, it’s never been worth it, but something about Vanessa makes me feel strong enough to defy him every chance I get.
It’s funny, seeing as how I’m a man now and far bigger than him—able to lay him flat without a blink if I wanted—but there’s something about standing in front of your abuser that makes you cower and forget how strong you actually are. Abusers have this strange sort of power over you that renders you frozen, locked in a different time.
“Now.”
I give my chocolate torte a forlorn look and push my chair back from the table.
Vanessa sends a sympathetic look my way, her eyes following me out of the room.
My father says nothing as I trail after him, his back stiff and shoulders straight. Onto the elevator we go—yeah, there’s an elevator—and not a single word is spoken on the ride.
The doors open, and he marches down the hall, expecting and knowing that I’ll follow.
I feel like I’m being led to my death—but that’s how I usually feel with anything involving this man. There’s a constant cloud of gloom and doom that follows him. As hard as it was growing up away at school my entire life, I’m fucking thankful for it, because if I had constantly lived under this man’s rule, I’m afraid I might’ve turned out exactly like him.
Sure, I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but at least I have a sense of humor, and I care about people. I have true friends who are like family. And I even have Vanessa.
He unlocks the door to his office, and steps aside to let me in first. Bastard keeps it locked unless he’s in it, afraid of the staff snooping through his documents.
He slams the door closed behind him when he enters, and it takes everything in me to not physically wince.
He moves behind his desk, head lowered with his hands on his hips.
“What are you doing, son?”
I fucking hate it when he calls me son. It implies a level of care, of respect, of what our dynamics should be—but it’s nothing but another way for him to belittle me and a reminder of the fact that I don’t truly have a dad.
“I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”
I’m not prepared for his backhanded slap. It comes out of nowhere, rocking my head to the side. I’m too shocked to even feel the sting.
“You know what I’m talking about.” I really don’t. “The girl has to go. She’s from a low-class family that has nothing to offer our name. There is no future for you there and frankly, I’m not sold on the two of you.” I keep my mouth shut for now, not wanting to incur his wrath a second time. As it is, I’m trying to stop myself from grabbing him by the shirt and tossing him against the wall. Eyes narrowed, he says, “She’s not your usual type and that makes me suspicious.”
“Suspicious?” This time I can’t stay quiet.
“It’d be an easy lie to tell.” He picks up a paperweight from his desk, turning it in his pale fingers—sickly white despite the Greek sun. “And someone like her,” disgust drips from his words, “would be an easy target and all too agreeable. Just look at her. I’m sure having someone like you on her arm raises her social status, and who wouldn’t want that.”