He chuckled, and that only infuriated me more.
Neil and Olivia appeared at the top of the stairs. He glanced from me to Laurence and back with a puzzled expression. I gave him a small shake of my head that loosely translated to, “We’ll talk about it later.”
I just didn’t know when later would be.
We said our goodbyes to Olivia, and I forced myself to pretend to be warm to Laurence. After everything we’d all been through since Emma’s death, I refused to believe that Valerie would invite more drama, more pain into our lives. This was an ugly side to Laurence I would never have expected. I wondered if she had ever seen it.
On our way down the front steps, Neil asked, “What were you talking to Laurence about?”
If I told Neil now, he would march right back inside. He would demand that Valerie come home from work. There would be a huge, emotional confrontation and the person who would suffer most would be Olivia.
I couldn’t handle that, and she shouldn’t have to.
“I just told him to cool it, is all,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t still tremble with anger. “We can talk about it when we get back. It was no big.”
No big, except Laurence, had threatened to take Olivia away. No big except he’d condemned us as perverts and me as a gold digger.
No big except our lives might be turned upside down, and very soon.
Chapter Thirteen
Though I’d been sent numerous photos and videos during its construction, I’d never seen the Nauti III in person. The gleaming white edifice towered above all the other boats in the marina; I’d never seen a cruise ship, but if this was just a private yacht, I wondered just how big one of those actually was.
Despite its enormous size, the vessel wasn’t bulky at all. I’d shared pictures of some of Neil and El-Mudad’s favorite supercars with the boat architect to show him the clean, swooping lines that had inspired the exterior. Gleaming white alternated with sea-green reflective glass panels on every level, making it resemble an alien spacecraft more than any of the other yachts around us.
“Oh...Sophie,” Neil breathed once he could move his jaw again after spotting it. “It’s gorgeous.”
I beamed. “Thanks. I might not know a lot about boats, but I know a lot about style.”
“I agree. You’ve done well, Sophie.” El-Mudad seemed slightly less impressed. Not in a mean way. He was clearly pleased with the gift, but he already had several of his own. And they were probably a lot bigger. “And I love the name.”
That had been the most challenging part; I’d wanted something with meaning, but nothing had quite fit. “Thank you. I thought it was a good pun.”
“I think it’s absolutely perfect,” Neil said, pulling me close to his side.
“Have you been on it, Sophie?” El-Mudad asked me, reaching for my hand. Here, where no one knew us, we didn’t care if someone spotted us being too affectionate with each other. Who was going to run and tattle?
I shook my head. “No. But I’ve seen pictures. I think you guys are going to love it.”
A steward of some kind met us at the foot of the gangway. I showed him my passport to prove it was really me.
“Welcome aboard, Ms. Scaife,” the young man beamed. His skin glowed with a golden tan, and his blond hair sported highlights that had definitely been helped along by a salon. I’d hired the crew through a service that specialized in training little Stepford boat people. “And your guests?”
“This is Mr. Elwood and Mr. Ati,” I informed him. I gave them both an apologetic wince. “Sorry, I couldn’t make you guys owners without ruining the surprise.”
“So, this is your yacht, then?” Neil asked, his mouth slanting in amusement.
I rolled my eyes. “No, it’s our yacht. Remember? What’s yours is mine, what’s mine is yours?”
“Sophie owns a yacht now, did you hear?” El-Mudad asked him, teasing me.
Neil shook his head in mock sadness. “What a snob she’s become.”
“Oh, shut up,” I laughed and charged ahead of them onto the boat. “I can have you thrown overboard, you know.”
“Would you like a tour, ma’am?” the steward asked.
I waved him off. “No, I’ve seen pictures. And it’ll be fun to poke around all by ourselves.”
“But we could use something to eat,” Neil told him. “And some lovely non-alcoholic strawberry daiquiris, if you’d be so kind.”
“Strawberry daiquiris?” I asked with a laugh. The thought of Neil drinking a fruity cocktail was thoroughly absurd.
Neil shrugged. “It’s hot. We’re on a boat.”
“Would you like us to serve dinner now, or is this just a mid-afternoon snack?” the steward asked.
“Maybe a light snack, followed very closely by dinner,” El-Mudad ventured. “Once we’re underway?”
“Of course,” he said. “That should be soon. I’ll send the captain to come speak with you about our itinerary.”