He’s lying. I refuse to believe otherwise.
But I’m not going to get him to confess if I give him the statement he wants.
I turn and stalk for the door, my pace increasing as I escape the room.
“Isla,” he calls after me.
I continue along the corridor, into the salon, through the automatic glass doors onto the deck.
The breeze brushes my cheeks as I glance around, searching for options. For leverage.
There isn’t much to choose from.
“Isla,” Raffael roars from somewhere inside, his footsteps approaching.
I rush to the side of the yacht, grab the nearest vertical pole that rises to the above deck, and climb onto the railing, my tight skirt making the task arduous.
Raffael bursts outside, vibrating with hostile frustration, and stops dead in his tracks. Panic flashes in his eyes.
See?He wouldn’t look like that if he didn’t care.
“Get down,” he snarls.
I shake my head, my arms trembling, the breeze now a rushing wind that tugs at my clothes. “Not until you tell me the truth.”
“The yacht is in motion.” He speaks slowly, calmly. Pure, calculated Raffael. “If you jump, you’ll get sucked under the hull.”
I have no intention of jumping. I just want to shock him into spilling his secrets.
“Who were you talking to this morning?” I demand.
His teeth clench.
One of the crewmen rounds the deck, halting abruptly with a breathy curse.
“Don’t spook her,” Raffael warns, not breaking eye contact.
“I’m not spooked.” I inch closer to the pole, locking my elbows around it. “I just want answers. Was it my father on the phone?”
Raffael takes a cautious step forward. “Climb back onto the deck and we’ll talk.”
“No, we won’t. As soon as my feet hit that teak you’ll intimidate your way out of this.”
“Want me to radio the Captain to cut the engines?” the crewman asks.
“I don’t want you doing anything that might risk her balance on that fucking ledge.” Raffael’s fists clench at his sides. “Leave her to me.”
There’s tension in his body, anger in his expression, but the panic is still rich in his eyes. And I swear it can’t just be due to the complications the possibility of my death might bring.
He’s worried.
For me.
Movement carries from the deck below. A shuffle of feet. A clink of metal.
I glance down and vertigo rushes toward me like a tidal wave. The water churns violently against the hull. The height hits me harder than I’d expected.
I cling tighter to the pole, my arms locked in a death hold.