I chase after him, the sheet trailing behind me. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know.” He yanks a white button-down from a hanger and shrugs it on.
“Is it them? Could it be your father’s men?”
“Idon’tknow.” He shoves his legs into a pair of charcoal suit pants. He looks suave, composed, controlled, yet somehow frayed at the edges in a way I’ve never seen before. “Until I find out, I want you to stay in the cabin. Don’t come out until I come get you.”
“But it’s possible?” I ask. “It could be them?”
He walks around me, pocketing his cell as he exits the closet.
“Raffael.” I follow, grabbing his arm as he reaches the cabin door. “What will they do?”
He pauses, fury or maybe fear darkening his eyes with an edge of pure hostility.
He cups the back of my neck, and plasters his lips to mine. Brutal. Consuming. Final.
When he pulls back, his voice is lethal. “They won’t do anything. I’ll make sure of it.”
Chapter
Twenty-Two
RAFFAEL
I closethe cabin door behind me and level a scowl on the bosun waiting at the top of the staircase. “I want every available staff member guarding this door. No one goes in or out. Are we clear?”
He nods. “Yes, sir.”
I continue past him, down the stairs. He follows in my wake, relaying my command through his radio.
The eyes of a wary Elena and her second stew greet me as I pass through the salon. They’re concerned, but not panicked. It’s fucking telling.
“You know who’s trying to board?” I grate over my shoulder.
“To an extent, sir.” The bosun jogs to catch up. “We’re sure they worked for your father.”
That explains Elena’s composure. She’s familiar with the approaching threat. The entire crew must be.
I stride past the glass sliding doors onto the aft deck, my cell vibrating with a short, sharp message in my pocket as the sea breeze hits my face.
I take out the device. Withhold a glare.
Unknown number:
We’re here to talk. Let us board.
I grit my teeth and stop at the polished teak railing.
The speedboat giving chase is right behind us, riding in the yacht’s wake. Two men are aboard—black suits, broad builds, their faces hidden from view under the shadow of the sun roof.
“Get me a visual confirmation,” I bark at the bosun. “I want names.”
“On it, sir.” He hustles away, radio to his lips.
The man on the left of the speedboat pulls a cell from his suit jacket, taps on the screen, then raises it.
A heartbeat later my phone rings.