Bought: Destitute Yet Defiant

‘Tap water is fine,’ Jessie muttered, but the girl poured the water into a glass and handed it to her.

‘You could have asked any of the staff above deck, madam,’ the head chef said respectfully, and Jessie blushed, realising that she’d committed another faux pas by walking into the galley.

She didn’t fit here either.

‘They were busy. I didn’t want to bother them. And, anyway, no one up there drinks water. I wasn’t even sure you’d have any.’ She drank the water. ‘And please don’t call me madam. My name is Jessie.’

‘I’m Stacey.’ The young girl who had handed her the water gave her a friendly grin. ‘That’s a gorgeous dress. Really wicked colour.’

‘Do you think so?’ Jessie glanced down at herself with a doubtful smile, wishing it had had a similar effect on Silvio.

‘It’s stunning. I wish I could—’

‘Stacey!’ The chef’s sharp tone silenced the girl and Jessie glanced between them anxiously.

‘Look.’ She shrugged awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have just barged in like this, but—you’re obviously really busy down here. I wondered if I could do anything to help.’

The chef stared at her in stunned silence.

When he didn’t answer, Jessie swallowed and gave a faltering smile. ‘Obviously not. It doesn’t matter, it was only a thought…’ She wanted to beg them to let her stay down here with them, but pride wouldn’t let her.

‘You could wash those champagne glasses,’ Stacey blurted out, sending a nervous glance towards the chef. ‘Freddie just dropped a whole boxful so we’re short.’

The chef looked as though he was about to pass out. ‘Stacey—’

‘Well, she did ask,’ the girl said defensively, and Jessie immediately grabbed an apron from the hook behind the door and tied it round her waist.

‘I’d love to wash them.’ Without giving the chef time to argue, Jessie hurried over to the sink.

‘Madam—’

‘It’s Jessie.’ She started plunging champagne glasses into the hot, sudsy water, the familiarity of the task soothing her. Curves of red lipstick mocked her from the rims of the glasses and she wondered which beautiful woman Silvio was raising a glass with at that moment.

A few minutes later she became aware that the hum of conversation was increasing and soon the kitchen was back to the noisy, bustling workplace it had been a few minutes earlier. Shouts, orders from the chef, and the air filled with the tantalising smell of hot canapés being pulled from the oven. It was a busy working galley with hungry mouths to feed.

After a while, everyone ceased to notice her and the knowledge that none of the other guests were likely to venture down here helped her relax. Jessie continued to wash glasses, listening to the conversation around her even though she was too shy to contribute. As soon as she finished washing one lot of glasses, another set arrived. Gradually she felt the knot of tension in her stomach ease. The ache in her shoulders abated, the sick feeling in her stomach lessened and her heart rate was almost normal.

It was only when a deathly hush fell over the kitchen that she bothered lifting her head to look.

Silvio stood there, a look of stunned incredulity on his handsome face.

He really was the most gorgeous guy she’d ever seen, Jessie thought weakly, feeling the strength ooze out of her limbs.

Even dressed in a dinner jacket, there was a hard, dangerous edge to him that set him apart from others. On the upper deck she’d spotted no end of good-looking men, but none of them had come close to challenging Silvio for sheer masculine impact. His dark hair gleamed under the harsh lights of the kitchen and his broad, powerful shoulders almost filled the

doorway.

‘Jessie—?’ He seemed to struggle to speak, and Jessie withdrew her hands from the soapy water and stared back at him defiantly, determined to ignore the stab of awareness low in her pelvis, in no hurry to forgive him for leaving her to cope alone among his high-profile guests.

Then she saw the perspiration on the chef’s forehead—perspiration that had nothing to do with the heat of the kitchen—and decided that it wasn’t fair to pull innocent bystanders into the confrontation that was looming.

Taking her time, she dried her hands and removed the apron. ‘I’ve finished the glasses for now. When the next lot comes, just pile them on the side and I’ll do them in a minute. Thanks, guys.’ Smiling at a white-faced Stacey, Jessie strolled over to the door and stared up at Silvio. ‘Have you run out of something up there? Do you need more champagne? Canapés?’

He didn’t respond, the gleam in his eyes a warning of his dangerous mood. She sensed he was having trouble controlling his anger, and Jessie wondered why he was angry when she was the one who had been cast adrift in a crowd of glittering, intimidating strangers.

‘Come with me,’ he ordered, and something about his silky-smooth tone made her shiver.

Was she supposed to just follow like an obedient dog?