As Bianca scoops tzatziki atop the souvlaki nestled in warm pita bread, my phone pings in my pocket. I pull it out.
Bishop.
He wants to know if I have Bianca. I reply with a quick, “Yes,” and set my phone on the table, focusing my attention back on Bianca.
She raises a brow. “Who was that?”
I challenge her brow with my own. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to ask someone who they’re texting?”
“I’ve never heard that rule.” She leans closer. “Was it Bishop? Is he asking you if you have me?”
I don’t say a word to her psychic guesswork.
“It is, isn’t it? What did you tell him, Costi?”
Anger hits me at her questioning, because I want to confess everything. “It’s none of your business.”
She huffs and shifts in her seat, pushing her food away. “Fine. Don’t tell me. Answer me this, what will you do if you go to hand me over and I’m not there?”
“Why wouldn’t you be there?
She shrugs one shoulder, a nonchalant look crossing her features. “Mayhaps, I’ll run away.”
“Mayhaps?”
“Isn’t that pirate lingo?”
Despite my anger, I stifle a smile at her petulance, which only annoys me more. “You wouldn’t make it a mile before I found you again.”
“You think I’m some young girl who can’t take care of myself? A lot has changed since you last saw me.”
My eyes drop to her breasts, loving the way she fills out her new clothes. “I know a lot has changed.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re a pervert.”
“You have no idea. But I’m not interested in anything you have to offer.” Lies.
She appears hurt at my words and turns her head to look back out over the blue water of the port. “Yeah, well, you’re no picnic either. I’d say more, but you’re not worth it.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yep.”
We finish our meal in silence, and once I’ve paid, I lead Bianca around the port, keeping my hand on the small of her back to make sure she doesn’t get any ideas about running away.
She really has nowhere to go. I wasn’t kidding when I said Bishop has deep pockets. There’s not a police officer this side of the Atlantic that isn’t on his payroll. It’s why I have to be careful with every step I make.
I can’t have Bishop finding out what I’m really after.
By the time we’ve made it back on the ship, it’s late. Bianca beelines straight to her room in the back of the boat. I head to the bridge, spotting Knox standing near the monitors.
“Do you think you’re going to pull this off?”
I gaze out at the tranquil ocean waters ahead. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”
“Should you just call it off?”
I sigh. “How can I? I just need Bianca to behave. Do you know she was talking about running away when we get to Greece?”
Knox fondles his long beard. “Well, you need to make sure she doesn’t do that.”
I rest my hand above the GPS monitor. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been thinking. I might have to keep her locked up in my basement.”
Knox lets out a deep, boisterous laugh. “I don’t see her liking that idea very much.”
“Well, I have to think of something. I can’t let her get away.”
Knox's face loses the humor. “I know.”
“I’ll just have to make sure she stays in line.” I slap Knox on the shoulder and make my way toward Bianca’s cabin to make peace.
I knock on her door, and she opens it with a scowl on her beautiful face.
“What do you want?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
I step back, taking in her cropped floral-print blouse and navy capris. She looks like she’s heading on a vacation and not a prisoner. And that’s just how I want her to feel.
“Bianca…” I debate on telling her the truth about why I kidnapped her.
She doesn’t wait for me to decide. “Ok, let me just say something first.”
I nod. “Go ahead.”
“Don’t think just because you’ve given me things, or because we used to be friends, I will not remember that you abducted me. When I get to Greece, I will get home to my father.”
“Over my dead body.” I stalk away from her, knowing I can never tell her any truths I have.
Ten
Bianca
* * *
The definition of hate is a passionate or intense dislike for someone. And yes, I also feel passion for Costi. This raw, toe-curling passion where I just want to rip his clothes off and…
I stop my train of thought.
I do not want to rip the clothes off his delectable body. My face flames hot with the intense hatred I feel for Costi. I move around my room, wishing I could find a way off this ship, but knowing very well I can’t.
I can swim, but swimming in the ocean back to the port is insane. I’m not an idiot. I step out of my room to look for someone who might help me escape this ship. Most of these men are loyal to Costi, but for the right price, that could change.