Lap of Luxury (Love Don't Cost a Thing)

I glance up at him suspiciously, wondering why he’s doing what I asked, and more. Because he cares that I’m happy, or because he wants a tractable captive?

He notices my hesitation, and reaches to take the bag back. “You don’t have to—”

I rip open the packet and swallow the morning after pills down, dry.

“You’re welcome,” he says tightly.

I glower back at him. I’m not going to thank him for something that he made me wait for and agonize over. If he thinks I’m going to have his baby and tie myself to him forever, he’s more insane than I thought.

We eat breakfast up on deck again, and I take out and examine the birth control pills. I count back the days to my last period. “What’s the day today?”

“Sunday,” he says tightly.

I pop out the correct Sunday pill, and swallow it down with some juice. After six more days of these pills I won’t have to worry about pregnancy. Damir goes sullenly silent. I make a meal out of my breakfast, making mmm noises over the bacon and sucking the la

st of my orange juice through a straw with loud gurgling sounds. As his irritation grows, so does my pleasure.

Damir throws his napkin on the table and stands up. “I have some things to do today. You will be all right by yourself?”

My heart lifts. He’s just going to let me wander around the yacht by myself? I could poke into all sorts of useful things that might help me plan an escape. “Uh…yes? Of course.”

“Good. If you need anything, just tell Boris.” He nods at someone standing over my shoulder. I look, and my heart sinks. Ponytail guy is staring back at me, hands folded in front of him. Dammit. Not by myself.

Damir leans down to kiss my cheek, his lips softly brushing against my skin, and a ripple goes through me at his touch.

“There are some things for you in our cabin,” he murmurs. “Someone will be going ashore again in a few hours. Let Boris know if there’s anything else we can get you.”

I feel my eyebrows creep up my forehead. Wow. Such attentive kidnappers.

In Damir’s room, I find a beach bag, a stack of English-language magazines and a few paperback novels. Thrillers and romances. The bag has a sundress, a few T-shirts and some shorts, and sunscreen. I snort when I fish out a bikini. Is this because of my quip the previous day about Instagram? I pull it on and find that it more or less fits, and I take the beach bag with the sunscreen and a romance paperback up to the pool. Boris follows me at a discreet distance and stands in the shade where he can watch me. Master’s orders, I suppose.

As I sit on a sunbed rubbing cream into my arms, I study the Monte Carlo skyline. On those narrow streets I might lose Damir among the crowds and report him to the police. I don’t have a passport, but that won’t matter as long as I can reach a British Embassy. I could go back to London, and Damir will be free to pursue as much bloodthirsty revenge against Mikhail and Ciara as he likes.

A guilty pang goes through me. I pull out my novel and stare determinedly at the first page. Mikhail and Ciara will just have to look after themselves. What would me staying Damir’s captive achieve? I can’t prevent him from doing exactly what he wants. I’ll just end up dead, too.

I read for a while, not really taking in the words. Days of fear and tension have taken their toll on me. I find my eyes growing heavier and drifting closed. The novel sinks into my nap. I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute…

There’s a warm, rich scent in the air, something sleek and expensive overlaying a muskier, masculine smell. Something brushes my lips, and my eyes flutter open to find Damir’s mouth against mine.

Lazily, I kiss him back, before I come back into myself enough to push him away. “My prince has come,” I say dryly, shifting up the sunbed a little.

“He did, so I killed him and disposed of the body. Now you’re mine, princesa.”

I stretch my arms up over my head and yawn. “No happily ever after for me, then.”

When I open my eyes and look at him, he seems tense. I wonder if he’s been trying to track Mikhail and Ciara down all day. Unsuccessfully.

“What have you been up to?” I ask.

He stares out to sea a moment, but I can tell he’s not seeing Monte Carlo. There are darker thoughts pervading his mind. “That’s not important.” He turns back to me. “All you need to know is that my loyalty, once earned, is forever. Double cross me, and I will show no mercy.”

Jeez, someone’s in a mood. I walk two of my fingers playfully up his arm. “Have I earned your loyalty?”

Damir practically purrs as he cups my chin. “You, sweet one, are my most precious possession.”

Despite his adoring words, I notice him watching me like a hawk. He might do anything for me, but that doesn’t mean he trusts me.

“What are we doing here?” I ask, nodding at Monte Carlo.