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She shrugs. “It would have been useless anyway, since your wifi is down. He certainly seems to be talking onhisphone a lot though.” She motions toward German, who is standing across the deck, and is, in fact, yammering into a phone. Not a cell phone, though. It’s bigger. A little boxier.
“That’sTheOakley’ssatellite phone,” Ben says. “But don’t ask him to use it. He’ll get very grumpy if you do.”
An uneasy silence settles over the table, but what else is there to say? We can’t really pretend like there’s nothing going on, but we can’t really explain whatisgoing on either.
“Right. Well, I hope everything works out okay.” Riley’s gaze settles on Ben. “And that you aren’t in any real sort of trouble.”
Of course, she would assume Ben is the reason the agents are on board. It’s his boat, and he’s the one with all the money. If spy movies have taught me anything, it’s that billionaireswith fancy yachts are much more prone to involvement with criminals than unassuming blond women who work in tech.
Ben doesn’t correct Riley, something that adds a few more points on theproside of my Dating Ben For Realpro/con list. He’s already done so much to cover for me, to keep me safe, and now he’s putting his own reputation on the line.
“Thanks for your concern,” Ben says. “I appreciate it.”
Eventually, Riley excuses herself to find her friends, who have already gone down to the staterooms Ben offered them—ones, I was happy to learn, that are on the opposite end of the yacht.
German and Daniels have disappeared too, and Leandra is nowhere to be found, so, at least for now, Ben and I are alone on the deck.
The cloudless sky is a brilliant blue overhead, and the water is a bright, sparkling turquoise. A breeze lifts the hair from my neck, and for a brief moment, I almost forget that this moment isn’t actually real. I’m notreallyvacationing in the south Atlantic with my uber-rich boyfriend, eating fancy food and lounging on the deck of his superyacht.
This is all nothing more than a mirage. A sound stage in a movie studio. A silly hoax to cover up my not-so-silly actions.
“Hey.” Ben nudges my knee, then scoots his chair a little closer, leaning forward onto his knees in an effort to catch my gaze. “What’s going on in that big, beautiful brain of yours?”
I give my head a little shake, partly to keep Ben’s sweet words from burrowing too deeply. “Nothing, just … thinking, I guess.” I look out at the view one more time. “It’s beautiful out here.”
“You give the scenery a run for the money,” he says, his smile flirtatious.
I roll my eyes. “Stop it.”
“Stop what? You’re the one who kissedme,Sadie. If I’m your boyfriend, I’m allowed to call you beautiful as often as I want.”
“Fakeboyfriend,” I say. “And there’s no one here you need to convince.”
“Beautiful,” he says again, this time giving me an appraising look. His tone is playful, but there’s an undercurrent that feels wholly serious.
“Ben, come on.” My protest is half-hearted.
Because I like the way Ben’s words sound the opposite of half-hearted. They sound like he means them. Like if I asked him to take away thefakeand make this thing between us real, he would agree in an instant.
“Speaking of kisses,” Ben continues, his voice dropping low. “That wasn’t exactly the first kiss I imagined for us.”
“You’veimaginedour first kiss?” I say through a huff of laughter.
“Since the first time I met you,” he says without breaking my gaze.
“That’s an awfully long time.” My voice catches as heat pools in my belly. Does he have to look at me so intensely? It feels like his gaze alone could singe the clothes right off my body.
He stands up, slowly, moving with intention and giving me more than enough time to tell him to stop. I don’t.
Leaning forward, he puts his hands on the arms of my chair and drops close, his body hovering over mine.
“A very long time,” he says. “Feels like forever.”
The air crackles between us, electricity zipping through my body, making me feel flushed and jittery. If I don’t kiss him—arealkiss this time—and soon, it’s possible I might spontaneously combust.
Either that, or I reallywillneed to throw myself into the ocean if only to cool off.
I lick my lips and look up at him. “Well, do it, then. Show me how you imagined it, Ben.”
