“Ready?” And then Vincent has me by the elbow. Not hard, still gentle. But it’s not even a question. It’s a foregone conclusion.

I let him lead me away, not knowing what else to do.

“Harper,” Vincent says as he leans down in my ear. “Do you want anything from your room?”

I consider this. I consider the phone. But the more I think about it, the less likely it is that the phone in my room is the phone I had from before. I probably fucked things up by trying to text James. “No, thank you,” I say, falling back on my manners to help me get through things.

My promised man wraps an arm around me and guides me over to the ladder that leads below deck. “I thought there was a helicopter?” But before the words are out of my mouth, I know there’s no helicopter waiting on this ship. It’s a fucking sailboat.

“Once we board my yacht we can take the helicopter to my home. Our home,” he amends. It will be wonderful, you’ll see. And soon, Tet will be gone and you’ll never have to think of him again.”

He pulls a hoodie on over his head and then he slips his feet into a pair of gray canvas boat shoes and grabs my hand. We go down three floors and make our way to the garage. There are men there waiting for us. My body feels hot as I realize that they all knew I was coming aboard only so I could be given away. They probably love the fact that I’m being punished. I killed thirteen people, some of them crew. They probably hate me.

“Step carefully,” Vincent says as he holds his hand out to help me into the tender, but not ours. His.

I settle in the seat next to Vincent at his request and he puts his arm around me. “Are you cold, lionfish?”

“What did you just call me?” The nerve of him.

“Lionfish,” he says, nuzzling my ear as we take out into the darkness. “Remember I gave you that name on the beach? After you told me about touching the stingers?”

“I told that story to James, not you.”

“Baby,” he says as his hand slips between my legs and his mouth covers mine for the briefest of moments. “I am James. How do you not recognize me?”

I tilt my head up to say no, but his mouth is right there. It covers mine. His tongue slips in and tangles with me. His hands are busy rubbing my inner thighs and then his fingers slip right up to my panties.

I push him off and scoot away. “You’re not him,” I say, not very convincingly.

“Oh, but I am. And when we get home, we’re gonna have that talk about power all over again.”

Chapter Fourteen

Harper

He is not James. He is not James. He is not James.

I know he’s not James, I don’t need the mantra to convince myself. I say it because I need to keep my mind from spinning out of control while we’re on the boat. It takes a long time to reach his yacht, and once we’re there, he takes me to a stateroom and says good night.

That’s it. Just good night.

The closet has two outfits. One set of modest night clothes. Tank top and shorts. And one set of outdoor wear. Jeans, boots, plain cotton shirt, and a light jacket.

I have a feeling we’re not going to be staying on board the yacht very long.

The bathroom is fitted with a large round tub, and even though all these things have happened to me in such a short time, I soak in the tub. I need something to settle me. To calm me. Hot water and a bottle of pills in an orange bottle on the counter are all I have, and I don’t want to take those pills. I cannot take those pills again.

So I soak for a little while and then change into my night clothes. When I come out of the bathroom, there’s a tray with cocoa and cookies.

Cocoa and cookies. Like I’m six fucking years old.

I drink the cocoa and skip the snack, then climb into bed. The ship is moving fast—full speed from the feel of it. It makes my stomach sick to think about it. It’s been far too long since I’ve been at sea for this to feel normal, but after tossing and turning for a few minutes, I finally drift off.

Sometime later Vincent wakes me. It takes me several seconds for his face come into focus once I open my eyes. “We’re ready. Please get dressed.” The hand he places on my arm gives me the chills and I pull away. The bedside light is flicked on and I have a chance to get a good look at him before he leaves my stateroom.

Why does he have to look exactly like James?

I dutifully put on the clothes and exit the cabin.

Vincent is waiting for me in the hallway wearing a dark blue suit with a tie that matches. Gone are his hoodie and boat shoes. He looks like a businessman now instead of a beach bum.

He gives me a quick smile and then I’m ushered up to the helipad and into the waiting ’copter before I even have time to think. I don’t know how long I slept, but it feels like late evening now. Almost all day if I had to guess.

Did he drug me? With the cocoa?

I don’t ask where we’re going. I stopped talking to him after he said he was James. I mean, please. These people treat me like I’m an idiot. He thinks I don’t know the difference between a stranger and the man I’m in love with?

God, did I just admit I love James?

I turn my head in the ’copter so the impostor can’t see me, and I grin. I’ve barely spent any time with James at all, but I know what I feel, and it’s love.

I miss him so bad.

Why did he drop me off?

I mean, yes, I can follow the logic. He was probably freaked out when that guy drugged me and maybe he thought I’d be safer on the yacht.

I probably would be safer on the yacht.

But I’m not on the fucking yacht. I’m in a goddamned helicopter flying to God knows where. And all this stuff about James being crazy—yeah, I can see that too. He’s totally psycho. I grin again. But that’s just part of his charm.

What girl does not fantasize about taming a wild man? Well, I never have until now. But that’s how I feel about it. James Fenici is one of the most dangerous men in the world and he wants to take care of me. He wants to love me and sleep with me. He listens to what I have to say and he puts all the violence aside when I’m next to him.

Grown men are terrified of him. Global organizations haven’t been able to kill him. And yet when his cock is in my mouth, he gives me all the power.

I could get drunk on that power I have over him. I could get off on that power too.

I want my James.

I’m not even remotely interested in what this stranger who looks like him has to say about anything. I don’t care if he’s the one I was promised to. What kind of man accepts a six-year old girl as his wife?