Didn't I Warn You (9 page)

That settled it—I’d finally lost my marbles.

Hadn’t that been what everyone had been saying behind my back for a year, anyway?

Angelina’s cracked.

Well, consider me well and truly crack-a-lacked.

TWELVE

I
MUST
HAVE
died in my sleep, because I awoke to the smell of heaven. My eyes flew open, and then I was looking at heaven, too. Haithem lying beside me in bed, relaxed in a shirt just like the one I wore, a wicked, sinful smile on his glistening lips. My heart beat way too fast for first thing after waking. Had he slept beside me? Had he been in bed with me without my knowing it? My skin prickled.

He raised a hand to his mouth, slid something brown and flaky between his lips and chewed. His jaw worked, the muscles on the edges popping out. I wet my lips. He still hadn’t shaved. Tiny black hairs protruded from his skin, and I wanted nothing more than to feel them scrape against me. To touch them with my fingers. To drag his face to my throat. He swallowed. His hand moved again, and flakes fell from his fingers. I watched them fall onto the white sheet that covered us both to the waist.

A plate rested between us, piled high with three golden croissants.

Chocolate croissants.

Goddammit. My favorite. He was eating my absolute favorite thing in front of me. My stomach clenched, woke up and remembered the hunger it had forgotten in sleep.

“What are you doing?” My throat scraped, a husky morning croak filling my voice.

He picked up one of the pastries and tore it in half. Steam escaped, rising and dissipating from between his hands like a burst of delicious chocolate-filled magic. “I’m having breakfast in my bed.”

His bed.

I shivered for real. Yes, I was in his bed. Half-naked in Haithem’s bed.

He held half a croissant out to me so that the buttery, chocolaty scent washed over me.

“I thought you must be starving by now. So I had these baked fresh.”

My gaze flicked between his fingers and his eyes. I couldn’t miss the glint of satisfaction. He wasn’t really hiding it. My heart sped up again. He’d had chocolate croissants baked for me. Some squealy, girlie part of me wanted to purr and rub up against him. Be all impressed.

The rest of me was just plain scared.

He’d known my weakness. This exact little weakness of mine. Of all the things he could have chosen, he’d picked so aptly. He’d known I’d just about sell my soul for a good croissant—make that croissant a chocolate one, and, well... He might be the actual devil. Knowing his position on contracts, I could picture him readying the paperwork now. My soul forfeit for the price of one chocolate croissant with the possibility of a proper fucking on the side.

“You’re making a mess in the bed.”

He grinned, flashed every tooth at me. “Angel, I’ve never minded making a mess in bed.”

Heat exploded over my chest and face. I might not have experienced it, but he made me want to find out—find out what a hot, messy fuck was like.

He held a pastry to my mouth. It warmed my lips. Tempted me to eat from his hand.

I wouldn’t.

I wouldn’t have been able to stop there. I’d be licking the butter from those fingers, sinking them into my mouth then dragging them down my body. Because, god help me, despite all wrongness, I was hungrier for Haithem than I’d ever been for food.

I reached forward, plucked the other half of the croissant off the plate and rolled out of bed.

He chuckled softly.

I sank into one of the wingback chairs in the corner of the room near the couch and pulled off a tiny piece of croissant and popped it in my mouth.

It melted on my tongue with all the rich loveliness of chocolate and good pastry. It took all my will not to moan. Haithem slid off the bed and walked toward me. I kept my eyes on the pastry. He set the plate on the small table next to me.

“You’ve forgotten something.”

Jesus, did he expect a thank-you?

I glanced up, and he held out a cup. It looked and smelled suspiciously like a cappuccino. I’d have liked to resist. But we were talking about real coffee to wash down my croissant. There are some things you just don’t say no to.

I took it from his hands.

“Thanks,” I said, and had a sip. Then my gaze snapped to his. “Oh, come on, really?”

“What?”

I set the cup down. “Three sugars? How the hell did you just happen to guess how I take my coffee?”

“I didn’t guess. I watched you put sugar in your coffee the first time I saw you.”

He’d paid such close attention that day? What was it about
me
that made a man like him notice, made him pay attention? Whatever it was, maybe it had something to do with why he made such an impact on me. That
zing
between us. Zapping attraction. I’d experienced attraction before. I’d had butterflies a few times in high school. My heart had raced when I’d been kissed. I’d gotten wet when a guy had groped my tits.

I’d never believed in the kind of lust that made smart girls do stupid things. But here it was. I’d yet to understand chemistry. I’d only begun to appreciate just how deeply the desire to replicate was hardwired into my genetics. As though there was some genetic code that hit a magic sequence when it met its perfect counterpart and then—
zing
.

Cue the crazy.

I shook my head, picked up the cup and held it to my mouth. “I’m just going to have my coffee and croissant now, because I need it, and I’ll try to pretend for five minutes that any part of this is normal,” I said out loud but mostly to myself.

He sat in the chair opposite me and picked up a croissant.

I ate another piece of pastry. “Don’t you have important secret business to attend to or something?”

“Ouch, Angel, you trying to get rid of me?”

I made a sound at the back of my throat.

“Business is mostly concluded, so for now, I’m all yours.” He dragged out the last part of the sentence, and I felt the words all the way down to my womb.

“Lucky me,” I said, and scrunched up my nose at him.

“You wound me. And when I have such surprises in store for you today.”

I laughed drily. “You know that sounds like a line right out of a horror movie, right?” I brushed crumbs off my legs, and my lips tightened. “I’m not sure I can handle any more surprises.”

“You’re determined to think the worst of me, aren’t you?”

I looked up and met his fierce gaze. “You could always let me call my family and prove me wrong.”

He sighed and put his pastry back onto the plate. “I’ve emailed your family, Angelina. They know you’re fine. So you can stop worrying and relax until we can get you back to them.”

I paused, fingers midway to my lips. “You have?”

“Yes, I sent it last night.”

The croissant fell onto my lap. “Oh no, you’ve made it so much worse...”

“Worse?”

My mouth went dry. A fatty aftertaste coated my tongue. “My parents will never believe an email from some random guy saying I’ve run off with him.” I shuddered. “They really will think something terrible has happened to me.”

Haithem touched my knee and peered into my face. “Hey, do I look like an amateur to you?”

I blinked, his bold features swimming in front of me.

“I sent the email from your account, wrote it as you. Used all those things you said to me.”

A pang filled my chest, and I gripped my forehead with my palm. “You said all that stuff about them smothering me?”

“Would you rather they think you’re in a ditch somewhere?” He leaned back into his own chair.

“No,” I whispered. My throat hurt.

They’d blame themselves now—my parents. And I’d disappointed them enough for one lifetime.

I picked up the coffee and took a small sip. It didn’t taste quite as good anymore. “How could you even know my email address, let alone access my account?”

Haithem stroked his thumb under his chin. “Your résumé.”

“You don’t miss a thing, do you?” I let out a puff of air. “And my password?”

“I have a guy.”

“You have a guy? Who the hell has a guy?” I held out my hands in an incredulous gesture.

He linked his fingers together and rested his elbows on his knees, hands dangling between his legs.

I wouldn’t be getting any more answers on that topic.

I scooped pastry and crumbs off my lap and deposited them onto the plate, then picked up a small corner of croissant and looked at it.

Something occurred to me that had not before. “You had these baked for me, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“You always so considerate, or am I just special?”

The way he focused on me—screw “special,” he made me feel as if nothing existed outside the cabin.

“You’re. Just. Special.”

Me, special
.

My stomach fluttered, and my reason for asking almost fled my mind. “Does that mean I can make requests?” My gaze fell to his chest as though I’d suddenly become fascinated by the way his first button hung open. The way dark hair lightly smattered his olive skin. “Is there a pastry chef on board?”

He remained silent.

I looked up and froze. I’d made another mistake.

“Angel, you don’t want to play this game with me.” His top thumb tapped on his bottom one, and his lips made a slashing line. “I’m so much better at it than you could know.”

“I—” What could I say? No, I wasn’t fishing for information? No, I wasn’t thinking what allies I might find on this massive boat?

“I’m glad you’re not stupid. But believe me, your only friend here is me.” He sat back, his hands moving to his knees. “So you want to know how many people are on board. Let’s not pretend...go ahead and ask me.”

I swallowed. “How many people are on board?”

“My captain and his two crew, the chef, two housekeeping staff members, four of my security team, Karim, and us.” He smiled. “All members of my personal staff. All devoted to me.”

Security team.

I studied him. He could have called them anything. Squad, gang, associates, or even just
men
.

But he called them security.

Legitimate people had security teams. Other kinds had henchmen.

People under threat had security teams.

There was more to his paranoia than keeping secrets—he was in danger.

Were we?

Maybe he’d given me that one clue, but I doubt he’d give me more.”So, there’re thirteen of us...isn’t that unlucky?”

“Perhaps it is.” He stood. “For the record, only Karim and I speak English. If you were wondering, that is.”

He smiled wider, darker, then turned to the door.

“Wait—”

He looked back at me.

“Do I have to stay up here? Is it safe to go below?”

Haithem sighed and faced me. “It’s better if you spend most of your time up here.” He laid his palm over his chest. “But you are safe anywhere on this boat. You are safe wherever I am.”

My shoulders rolled forward as though a rubber band had been holding them back and had suddenly snapped. “That’s a relief, because I do remember having guns pulled on me.”

“Won’t happen again. You surprised my security, caused alarm.”

I nodded. Somehow, the crazy freaking memory of armed security aiming shiny weapons at me lost its edge as Haithem explained it as if it were natural—reasonable.

What else would become reasonable, the longer I stayed here?

* * *

H
OW
MANY
HOURS
had I spent in the cabin?

Too many. All day. A full day on this boat without word from home.

Enough to educate me on exactly what is meant by the term
cabin fever
.

Idleness, for me, was like sitting on poison barbs. A thousand nasty images poked into me, their venom seeping into my blood. My mother’s face all those weeks she’d sat by my brother’s bedside—how she must be reacting now, thinking I’d run off because of her. Each thought carried its own unique brand of pain.

Wisps of images, snippets of sounds like my mother’s sobs, clutched at me with spindly fingers, wrapped around me, dragged me into memories I couldn’t revisit. Memories I knew would mirror almost exactly what my parents would be going through now.

I walked the length of the cabin. Fifteen strides with my legs. I knew how many steps, but I counted them again. One, two, three, four... Still, I heard it, the name, under all those other nasty little thoughts. A whisper.

Josh
.

If I let it, that whisper would grow to a shout then a roar—a shaking, rattling, booming roar that would consume me.

I had to get out.

Had to. I didn’t have a choice. I’d drown if I stayed in the cabin. I’d have a better chance of survival in the water. At least then I’d be busy trying to stay afloat.

I ran to the window. Nothing but blue stretching out to the horizon.

Pale blue sky. Dark blue ocean.

Haithem had said it’d be “better” for me to stay in here, but there was still a whole floor below me I hadn’t explored. I left the cabin and went onto the deck.

A whirling sound buzzed through the air. I looked up. A helicopter cut through the sky, flying directly toward us. I froze, watching it grow from a small, toy-like thing to life size.

A helicopter...

My chest filled with breath, and I waved my hands above my head in wide sweeps. The helicopter drew closer, the whirring louder. My hair blew around my face, tangling over my mouth. I added a jump to my movements, not even caring that Haithem’s shirt flapped up to my waist.

“If I’d known you’d be this excited, I may have organized this sooner.” Haithem’s words boomed over the noise.

I jumped. The helicopter flew over our heads and somehow knocked the air from my lungs. The shirt whipped up to my armpits. I grabbed the fabric, hauling it down over my chest—over my fully exposed boobs. Haithem wrapped his arms around my waist, keeping me upright and my shirt in place.

Oh, dear lord.

The helicopter hovered over a space on the protruding lower deck, marked with a giant
H
in a circle. The wind eased, and I smoothed the shirt over my hips. Thank god my panties had dried, even if my bra hadn’t.

Thank you, god—really. I couldn’t have handled that indignity.