“I’m curious. Explain it to me.”
He walks toward me, and I back up a step. “Ever hear the expression better to keep your mouth shut and let them think you’re an idiot, than open it and confirm their suspicions?”
“Fuck off.” I turn to walk away. He catches me by my arm and twists so I turn back to him. “Get off.”
“Be careful, Little Kitten.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Then put those baby claws away.”
“Fuck you.”
“Careful or I’m going to give you something you desperately need.”
“I don’t need a fuck, especially from you, thank you.”
“You’ll wish that’s what I had in mind.”
“What the hell does that even mean?”
He leans in close. “Push me again. Just one more time and I’ll show you.”
I glare and my mouth, oddly and completely out of character, does as my mind instructs and shuts up.
He gives me one of his signature grunts, releases me, and digs keys out of his pocket.
“So, they’ll follow us?” I ask pointing to the three men who look like secret service in the next boat.
Cristiano nods and starts the engine. “You’ll want to sit down.”
“I’m fine,” I start, and I know he jerks the boat on purpose because he grins like a wildcat when I instantly land on my butt on the floor.
“Jerk,” I mutter as I maneuver to sit on one of the cushioned seats.
He gives me a smirk. “You should listen to your elders.”
“What are you? Twenty-eight? Twenty-nine?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“You’re not an elder.”
“I’m older than you. That makes me your elder.”
I shake my head, reminding myself to stay focused. I want some answers about my uncle, and I want to know his idea about Noah.
“Why don’t they just come with us?” I point to the boat that’s following close by.
“I don’t want to be crowded.”
“It’s not environmentally friendly of you.”
He looks at me his eyebrows raised like he’s asking really?
“What was your idea about Noah?” I ask over the sound of the engine and the slapping of the boat against the waves. “And can you slow down a little? We’re going to flip.”
“We won’t flip. Relax.”
I grip the side of the boat, knuckles white. “I don’t like this.”
He looks over at me, sighs and slows.
“Thank you.”
“You owe me one,” he says and returns his attention to steering the boat.
I watch him. Look at his broad, powerful shoulders as I slip my arms into his jacket. It’s cool on the water, almost cold, but he looks relaxed. My gaze slips lower to his ass and I remember seeing him naked. How I felt him hard against me last night.
I remember how he tasted like caramel and whiskey when he kissed me, and I remember how he looked with his eyes closed. Like our kiss was sustenance. Air.
“Noah will work for me,” Cristiano says, interrupting that train of thought.
“What?”
“Noah. He’ll train to become a soldier.” He looks back at me.
“He’s fifteen. He hasn’t even finished high school.”
“He’ll live in my house. Be educated. Have time to prove himself trustworthy. I won’t kill a kid, Scarlett. And from what I can tell of the boy, he could use a father figure.”
I snort. “Like you’re a good influence?”
“Better than your brothers or uncle.”
“That’s not a very high bar. He’s too young. I don’t want that.”
“I’m not asking your permission. I’ve already spoken with him and he’s very enthusiastic.”
“What? When?”
“Early this morning.”
“You mean he knew when I came to visit him?” He didn’t say a word.
“I made him swear not to say anything.”
“Let me guess, a test of loyalty.” He slows the boat as we near the port and I stand, walking over to him. I guess he told me his plan out on the water so I wouldn’t attack him. I don’t quite have my feet under me.
Cristiano nods, pockets the key and climbs out, then extends his hand to me.
“I’m fine. I’ll get out on my own.”
“Don’t be stubborn.”
“I’m fine.”
“It’s the only way, Scarlett.”
I shove his hand away. “No, it’s not. You can let him go. That’s another way. He won’t come after you and you know it.” I look at my options, reaching for a pole for balance. But the wake of our security detail’s boat catches me off guard, making our boat bob wildly, and sending me toppling.
I scream, anticipating the splash of cold water or worse, the crashing of my face against the pole. Just as I feel the scrape on my forehead, strong hands grab the back of the coat I’m wearing, lifting me, setting me on the dock. The coat slips off my arms. I stumble when he releases me, so he catches me again, this time keeping hold of me.
“Jesus Christ. Are you hell bent on falling in?”
I’m panicked and can’t answer right away.
He must see it on my face because he exhales, shakes his head and pulls me close.
For a moment, I think he’s going to hug me. To comfort me. And I’m not sure what I’d do if he did that.