It was one thing knowing the man you were with had walls. Quite another being personally told about their height, their breadth, and their utter impenetrability. And being warned not to try and scale them lest I be just another one of those women. Was I supposed to feel lucky he picked me? I was on the verge of feeling used. Irritation bubbled. No. I knew what the parameters were. What he wanted them to be anyway. I swallowed the bitter sting of rejection and hopelessness that rose up in me and tried to lighten the mood. “And now I get to be the lucky girl who enjoys this for a few days?” I reached out and closed my hand around his girth. Internally, I winced at the superficiality of my response. It sounded hollow to my own ears. But what other response could I have?
He took my hand off him and brought it to his mouth and kissed the back. Then he sat up. “I should let you get ready. We’ll be docking soon.”
Whatever connection we’d found during our lovemaking, because I was sure that’s what it had turned into, had waned in the aftermath. “Sure,” I said. “Are we still going to dinner?” I asked because, frankly, after what he’d just said, it would be anyone’s guess. I mean, wasn’t taking a woman you were sleeping with out for dinner kind of romantic? A way to get closer? Talk more? Have her ending up wanting more?
“Yes, of course,” he said.
Right. “What should I wear?”
“Not that gold thing, or we won’t leave the boat,” he said with a laugh as he pulled his shirt from the floor and punched his arms through.
“I don’t have a lot to choose from, but I’ll figure something out.”
He stood and pulled on his underwear and shorts, fastening the button. He raked his one hand through his dark hair, then leaned forward and gave me a quick kiss. “You always look beautiful. Wear whatever you like.” Then he winked and unlocked the door and left.
I flopped back on the bed.
Good God, I was confused.
We docked in a small port near Calvi that sat nestled beneath plunging cliffs and a huge, ancient wall. “Whoa,” I breathed out the word, shading my eyes as we approached. The sun was setting across the ocean behind me, to the west, and the light danced up the limestone cliffs, making the rocks look like pure gold.
Andrea joined me on the bow. “You look lovely,” she said.
I’d embellished my simple black linen dress with a gorgeous jade green and turquoise necklace I’d bought with Andrea in St. Tropez. It brought out my eyes, if I did say so myself. I’d borne witness to that in the bathroom mirror after my second shower of the afternoon. “Thank you.”
“You doing all right?” she asked.
“Stratospheric,” I replied.
She gave a grim smile. “That’s a long way to fall.”
“No kidding.” I squeezed her hand. “Enjoy your time off.”
“You too.” She winked and left me.
I was due to join Xavier on the top deck, but I needed a second to myself in the fresh air. We were the only boat on the one long pier, side-to, probably due to the depth of the water available and the size of the boat.
Rod was moving around, tying things up and righting things that had fallen. He and Chef would probably take a while to get off the boat. Andrea must have pulled the long straw because I watched her stride down the concrete jetty away from us to the gate at the end.
After my shower, I’d checked my email again for any responses to my applications. There was an email from my mom. She’d sent me her contact’s name at the Charleston Historic Foundation. I was pretty sure I might even enjoy working there for a while. Certainly, the contacts in the city would be invaluable. People who valued what I did and weren’t out to make the fastest buck. Then after that, who knew? I hadn’t heard from anyone else, but for some reason, I still resisted applying.
I’d keep in touch with Madame too, regardless of what happened here with Xavier. There was a lot I could learn from her that could be useful in my work back in Charleston. Besides, I genuinely liked her. So to that end, I’d messaged her and formally asked her if I could stay and shadow her for a week before returning