‘Lord, no!’ Jeromy exclaimed, hardly able to conceal his surprise. ‘When did you get invited?’
‘The same time as you,’ Ashley retorted, delighted to stick it to him. ‘Taye had the invite in his pocket all through that dinner we had. He thought if he kept it hidden, he’d get lucky later on.’
‘And did he?’ Jeromy asked caustically, not thrilled with the calibre of guests. He’d expected so much more than Ashley and Taye, although he soon changed his opinion when Cliff Baxter and a vibrant young redhead appeared. Aha! A full-bodied movie star. Nice one. Jeromy launched into full smarm.
Lori stood back and checked out the other guests, while a tall, skinny, anonymous Englishman played kiss ass with Cliff.
She noticed Luca Perez and was immediately smitten. He was so gorgeous with his quiff of blond hair and golden tan. Then there was super-model Bianca with her deep caramel skin and delicious green cat-eyes. The Russian man, their host, was an overpowering presence in a very quiet, almost sinister way. And Taye Sherwin, the famous Brit footballer. What a hunk, although his wife wasn’t exactly Miss Friendly. When they were introduced, Ashley Sherwin had sniffed out a hello as if it was giving her a migraine.
Bitch! Lori thought. I’m not good enough for you, but I bet my boyfriend is.
And bingo! Lori was right. Ashley cracked a big smile when introduced to Cliff. ‘I love all your movies,’ she simpered, tossing her long blond curls and sticking out her boobs. ‘I’m such a big fan.’
You should see his cock, Lori thought. Or maybe not. She’d often taken note of Taye Sherwin’s print commercials in all the best magazines, and he was certainly not lacking in the big dick department. Either that or he was stuffing socks.
Lori grinned. Fun with the rich and famous. Little Lori Walsh was doing well for herself. Maybe the Russian had a billionaire friend she could hook up with. After all, she was the soon-to-be-ex of a major movie star, that had to count for something.
Flynn and Xuan were almost the last to arrive. Flynn might not be famous, but every woman’s eyes swivelled to check him out. He was dead sexy in an edgy way. Not perfect by any means, but he had the look. The two-day stubble, intense ice-blue eyes, lean body and longish hair. Cliff Baxter was classically handsome. Taye Sherwin, boyish. Luca, gorgeous but gay. Aleksandr, an overpowering presence. And then there was Flynn. The most attractive man on the boat.
Hot, Lori thought.
Delicious, Ashley thought.
Damn! Bianca thought.
And while everyone was lusting after Flynn and wondering exactly who he was, Hammond Patterson made his entrance, trailed by the lovely Mrs Patterson.
Flynn glanced over and suddenly felt his world spin out of control, for to his shock and surprise he was staring straight into the eyes of the love of his life.
* * *
15 years earlier
By the time he was twenty, Flynn Hudson had been with more girls than he could remember or even count. It wasn’t that he chased them, it seemed that they were always coming onto him – and he had no logical reason to turn them down. What the hell, he was young, fit, and enjoying himself while studying Economics, Journalism and World Affairs at UCLA in Los Angeles.
Flynn lived in a house on Westholm Avenue with several other guys. They were a rowdy bunch who liked to use Flynn as the bait to get girls. It always worked. Flynn took the prize, and they shared the leftovers. They all joked about it, except Hammond Patterson – commonly known as Ham – who often argued that he was the main attraction considering his dad was an important congressman, and that he too was going into politics.
Ham was the peacock of the group, forever boasting about his conquests and insisting on sharing graphic sexual details whenever he got a girl into bed.
Flynn and Ham did not get along at all. Ham was jealous of Flynn, and it showed. Flynn considered Ham to be a major asshole.
Flynn’s American grandparents lived in a large house in Brentwood, and sometimes he’d spend the weekends hanging out there.
One memorable weekend while his grandparents were safely in Palm Springs, his buddies had persuaded him to throw an open-house party. It wasn’t Flynn’s idea, but he got talked into it by Arnie, one of his best friends.
The party started out as a sedate get-together, but as word spread, it soon turned into a major rave. The beer began flowing, naked girls couldn’t wait to jump into the swimming pool, while the smell of pot wafted in the air.
‘Jeez, Arnie,’ Flynn complained after the cops had visited twice, ‘my freakin’ grandparents are gonna go apeshit. Help me close this thing down.’
And as he watched, Arnie dissolved into a useless stoned heap.
Flynn shook his head, glanced up – and then he saw her. The girl with the heart-shaped face, honey-coppery hair and large brown eyes. ‘Pretty’ did not do her justice. She was a showstopper, and she was busy fighting off Ham, who was trying to persuade her to take a swig from the beer bottle he was holding. Ham had her in a neck-lock.
Flynn didn’t hesitate, but quickly moved in. ‘Easy,’ he warned Ham. ‘Looks to me like she doesn’t want a drink, so get your hands off her. ’
‘Y’ can fuck off,’ Ham slurred, hanging onto the girl with intent to keep her. ‘None of your fuckin’ business.’
Flynn stared at the girl. ‘Are you with this guy?’ he asked.
‘No way,’ she said, suddenly shaking herself free and starting to run off, but not before yelling, ‘You know something? You’re all a bunch of drunken slobs!’
And that was that. Until three weeks later, when he saw her again. She was standing outside a fast-food restaurant in Westwood with another girl, and as luck would have it he knew the girl she was with.
The good news was that he was acquainted with her friend.
The bad news was that he was on a date, and his date was a clinger who refused to let go of him.
Flynn did not allow this to stop him. He walked over to the girl he knew, said hello, and waited for her to introduce him to her friend. Which she did.
Then he had her name. Sierra Snow. A name as beautiful as the girl herself.
Sierra barely looked at him, but it didn’t matter. He was finished, gone – helplessly, hopelessly in love or lust or whatever.
Somehow he knew that Sierra and he were destined to be together. It was fate, karma, whatever you want to call it.
It was, quite simply, inevitable.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Women were Sergei’s playthings. Like new toys he only kept them around until they were broken or he got bored.
His current paramours were Ina Mendoza, a former Mexican beauty queen who lived at his Acapulco villa, and Cookie, a ratty blonde American D-list actress who’d once starred in a successful US comedy where she’d flashed her fake boobs. Since then she’d done nothing of note.
He kept Cookie stashed in his Mexico City penthouse where she spent her days going shopping, always accompanied by a female bodyguard on the vague chance that she might be kidnapped.
‘Kidnapped? You?’ Sergei had sneered when she’d mentioned her fears. ‘Nobody would dare to fuck with Sergei Zukov. Any kidnapping to be done is done by me.’ To placate her, he’d assigned one of his bodyguards to watch over her.
Cookie was thrilled that she had landed a powerful boyfriend. Finally. Her Hollywood career had not been stellar, therefore Sergei was her last chance of hitting the big time. She knew he had plenty of money, and she was hoping that she might get him to finance a movie – starring her. What a coup that would be.
Her ex-husband, a nightclub bouncer back in L.A., had written a banging script, and all she had to do was get Sergei interested. Since he had the attention span of a gnat, this was no easy job.
Lately he’d had something else on his mind, something that seemed to be taking all his attention.
Cookie hoped it wasn’t the fat Mexican so-called beauty queen he kept in Acapulco. She seethed with jealousy over that one. What could Ina do that she
couldn’t?
She’d raised the subject of Ina once with Sergei, and he’d slapped her across the face so hard that she’d lived with the imprint of his hand for days.
Bastard! He’d pay for that.
Or maybe not. Cookie knew better than to cross boundaries. Sergei was her ticket back to the big times – if only he’d read the fucking script.
* * *
‘How is your American puta?’ Ina sneered, her Latin eyes filled with jealousy, hands on voluptous hips – she’d put on twenty pounds since winning her title.
Sergei silenced her with a grim look. He did not appreciate being questioned, and certainly not by a woman. Didn’t they realize that they were interchangeable? However sexy and pretty they thought they were, there was always a younger, prettier model creeping up behind.
He had an urge to slap Ina, leave the imprint of his hand on her smooth cheek, exactly as he’d done with Cookie. Women needed discipline.
He couldn’t do it, however, because Ina’s brother, Cruz, was in the house, and Sergei needed Cruz, for he was an important part of Sergei’s plan. In fact, her brother was one of the main reasons he kept Ina around. Family connections were important.
Sergei had conducted business with Cruz before. There were many deals to be brokered when it came to drugs, and when Sergei needed him, Cruz had turned out to be a reliable and useful contact for moving shipments.
How fortuitous was it that Ina had a brother who’d spent the last seven years in Somalia, amassing a fortune from pirating small ships and yachts – any vessel he and his team could hold for ransom. Anything to do with the high seas, and Cruz had it down. Therefore he was just the asset Sergei needed right now, and when Sergei needed something, things always fell into place.
He’d made Cruz an offer he couldn’t resist, and now Ina’s brother was living in his house, and Cruz’s men were ensconced in a downtown hotel ready to move when Cruz gave them the word.
Plans were in motion.
Soon Mr Big Shot Aleksandr Kasianenko would find out how real men did business.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Once all the guests were aboard, Aleksandr instructed Captain Dickson to set sail. The Captain obliged, aware he had precious cargo, and delighted to add the list of esteemed guests to his resumé. He was particularly chuffed that Taye Sherwin was on the trip. The man was a brilliant footballer – right up there with the best of them. Twice picked as the BBC’s Sports Personality of the Year, a former Captain of the national English team, a brilliant player, Taye Sherwin had experienced an illustrious career. Captain Dickson was honoured to have him aboard. Of course it was not too shabby either that the movie star, Cliff Baxter, was also with them, and Senator Hammond Patterson and his lovely wife.
The Bianca had a crew of eighteen, which included everyone from an executive chef, to a barman, stewardesses, engineers, a valet, a head housekeeper, deck hands, maids, and Guy – whose job was to keep the guests contented and entertained at all times.
Captain Dickson was not as happy with his crew as he should have been. He’d had to say yes to the hire of a few replacement crew members when three of his regulars had dropped out at the last minute. This did not please him, as he preferred working with a crew who knew exactly how he expected them to behave.
One of the new hires was a Mexican girl, Mercedes, that Guy had seen fit to take on as a stewardess. Captain Dickson considered her too attractive for her own good. He didn’t want any of the female guests getting annoyed or jealous; he’d seen that happen before. He instructed Guy to keep a strong eye on her.
‘No worries,’ Guy had assured him. ‘I’ve checked out her references – not one complaint. I’ll watch her.’
‘You’d better,’ Captain Dickson had warned him. ‘Her kind are inclined to give us problems.’
Her kind, Guy thought, convinced that Captain Dickson was some sort of old-style British racist. Apart from one African-American engineer, the rest of the crew were all white. Besides, Mercedes wasn’t that attractive. For a start she was on the short side, and was it his imagination, or was her left eye slightly squinty? And could he detect the beginnings of a very faint moustache? However, he had to admit that she gave off a sexier vibe than most of the fresh-faced girls he usually worked with. Anyway, there hadn’t been much time left, so he’d hired her. Personally, he kind of liked the idea of introducing a bit of flavour to the trip. As long as she did her job, he was cool with it.
Over the last year Guy had worked on several high-profile cruises – one with a famous female talk-show host, another with a dominating captain of industry, and then there was the trip with the two NBA players.
The female talk-show titan had turned out to be a secret lesbian. The captain of industry had turned out to be a raging pervert. And the two NBA players had turned out to be hooker hounds with libidos that never quit.
Guy figured if he could handle that lot, then he was certainly well equipped to deal with one sexy little Mexican stewardess.
* * *
‘Nice!’ Taye exclaimed, exploring their accommodations, which consisted of a large, stylishly decorated VIP stateroom – colour scheme pale blue – with a king-size bed, plenty of built-in closet space, a small private terrace, and an all-marble en-suite bathroom.
‘Not bad,’ Ashley agreed, trying to conceal her excitement at actually being on the same trip as Cliff Baxter. The Cliff Baxter. People magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive. GQ’s Man of the Year. Rolling Stone’s Actor of the Decade. Not to mention hundreds of other accolades.
Ashley had a major crush. And was it her imagination, or had Cliff given her a long lingering look – a look rife with sexual promise? Ashley was full of expectations. What if Cliff Baxter came onto her? What would she do? How would she handle it?
She felt quite light-headed.
Was she capable of cheating on Taye? She never had, but this was Cliff Baxter, every woman’s fantasy, so surely a quick fling was allowed? The very thought made her tingle with the anticipation of the forbidden.
She’d relished the expression of shock on uptight Jeromy’s face when he’d discovered that she and Taye were guests on the yacht. Jeromy could be such an annoying snob at times, so she and Taye being included kind of evened-out the playing-field.
In the meantime she couldn’t wait to have a girls’ gossip with Bianca, get the scoop on everyone. She’d already decided that Cliff Baxter’s girlfriend was no big deal. The girl had a nice body and flaming red hair – probably dyed – but Lori wasn’t drop-dead Hollywood gorgeous – just kind of ordinary really. Ashley had thought Cliff would have a raving beauty on his arm, someone of the Angelina Jolie calibre.
‘What’re you thinkin’?’ Taye asked, plopping himself down on the bed and patting a spot beside him.
‘I’m wondering what I should wear for dinner,’ Ashley mused, fluffing out her blond curls. ‘Do you think we’re eating outside?’
‘I expect so,’ Taye responded. ‘Heard someone mention dinner is on one of the decks. It’s all go, ain’t it, toots?’
‘Cool it with the toots,’ Ashley said irritably. ‘We wouldn’t want to sound like the poor relatives, would we?’
Taye shot her a dirty look. ‘Poor what?’
She’d hit a sensitive spot. Taye hated it when she intimated that they weren’t good enough. She suspected it had something to do with him being black. Not that it mattered to her, she wasn’t her mother’s daughter when it came to racist thoughts.
‘Nothing,’ she said, sitting on the bed beside him.
The bed was soft, welcoming. They’d been travelling all day, so she was entitled to be tired, what with the time-change and all. And it was important that she looked her best for cocktails at five thirty. Yes, she wouldn’t mind a nap before dinner.
Cocktails first, then dinner in the company of Cliff Baxter. If she was lucky, maybe she’d be seated next to him at the dinner-table.
Ashley couldn’t wait.
* * *
&nbs
p; ‘I can’t believe how Taye and Ashley managed to get themselves invited,’ Jeromy fumed. ‘I should never have told them about the trip. It’s quite obvious they solicited their own invitation once they heard about it.’
‘I thought you liked Ashley,’ Luca remarked. ‘Didn’t you bring her in as your partner?’
‘Only for the name value.’ Jeromy sniffed. ‘And do not forget that Taye invested money in the business too. You could say she bought her way in.’
Luca stripped off his shirt and threw it on the bed, next he dropped his pants.
‘What are you doing?’ Jeromy asked, alarmed – because after the sex marathon with the Luttmans of the previous evening, he was not in the mood for more of the same. Although with Luca it would be oral and that was about it.
‘I’m off to the pool,’ Luca said, opening a drawer and trying to discover where the valet who’d unpacked for them had put his swimming shorts.
‘Oh,’ Jeromy said. ‘I was thinking perhaps a nap might be more of a plan.’
Luca located his colourful Versace shorts and slipped them on. ‘Not for me,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’m catching up with Bianca. Promised I’d meet her by the pool.’
‘Should I come with?’
‘Not necessary,’ Luca said, running a hand through his thick head of blond hair. ‘We’d probably bore you with our reminiscences.’
Reminiscences? Luca and Bianca? Yes, he would be bored listening to the stories of how the two of them first met.
‘Then I shall stay here and rest,’ Jeromy decided.
‘See you later,’ Luca said, and he was gone, leaving Jeromy to stew over the fact that he was being disincluded.
* * *
‘Impressed?’ Cliff questioned, gesturing around their luxurious stateroom.
‘With what?’ Lori retorted, opening up her carry-on bag.
‘You know what,’ he said, a tad irritable.
‘No, I don’t,’ she said, being purposely obtuse.