Page 73 of Below Deck Billionaire
In a galaxy far, far away.
Her blonde hair was caught back in some kind of side ponytail thingy, leaving her long bangs loose around her oval face. He judged her to be in her mid to late twenties and, in the bright red of herHellenic Spiritpolo shirt, she looked the quintessential girl next door.
His gaze dropped to her nametag.Kelsey. Yep. She looked like a Kelsey. All sunny and bright and impossibly perky and it had nothing to do with her cup size, although, curiously, hehadnoticed the V of her cleavage.
The gnaw in his temples upsized to a throb.
Ari wanted to say,That’s me, Mr Serious. But he didn’t.Smile. Flirt. Be friendly. Don’t scare the fucking staff.His brother’s strict instructions rang in his ears. Theo always had been a pain in the ass.
Have some goddamn fun for a change.
Ari shrugged and forced a smile. The muscles of his cheeks, unused to the exercise, protested the movement. ‘It’s five o’clock somewhere, right?’
Kelsey laughed as she poured the whisky and Ari blinked at the sexy vibrato as it fluttered around him like confetti. It’d been a long time since any kind of laughter had penetrated the thick hide of his self-imposed isolation.
Kelsey looked like she knew how to have fun.
‘It’s 9p.m. in Sydney.’ She placed the glass on the bar. ‘So it definitely needs one of these.’
She opened a blue paper cocktail umbrella and inserted it at a jaunty angle into his drink. She leaned back, admiring her handiwork, and laughed again, louder this time. Whisky with a cocktail umbrella looked utterly ridiculous but Ari found himself smiling despite the absurdity.
A different throb this time sliced between his ribs. Quickly, he picked up the glass, tossed the umbrella aside and threw the contents down. Placing the tumbler back on the bar, he said, ‘Hit me, again.’
Whisky was the worst possible thing he could be ingesting in the face of his threatening migraine. But that was why God had invented pharmaceutical companies.
The blonde quirked an eyebrow slightly before pouring a second helping. Ari drained the glass and set it down. Kelsey lifted the bottle but he shook his head.
The ship horn sounded and people whooped and cheered and headed for the railings as the oldest ship in the Oceanós cruise line pulled out of Civitavecchia. Beyond the reaches of the harbour, April sunshine threw diamonds at the sapphire blue of the Med.
Out there, the Greek Islands beckoned. Venice beckoned.
Ari glanced at his watch. Eleven thirty on the dot. ‘You’re Australian?’
‘Good guess.’
Ari shrugged. He’d been born in Athens, raised in France, holidayed all over Europe and schooled in England. Accents were second nature. ‘You’re a long way from home.’
‘I am indeed.’
‘How long have you worked on cruise ships?’
‘Seven years.’
‘You like it?’
She smiled and tipped her chin at the view. ‘I’m in the Mediterranean. What’s not to like?’
Which was a good response, but didn’t really answer the question, and if the need to medicate himself wasn’t becoming increasingly urgent, he might have stuck around to probe some more. He pulled out his wallet. ‘How much do I owe?’
‘Oh, no, sir.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ll just swipe the card you were given on check-in.’
‘Oh yes, right.’ Ari removed the card and deliberately placed his wallet on the bar top. ‘Sorry. I forgot.’
‘No worries.’ She gave a teasing laugh. ‘Your first time?’
It wasn’t. Ari had been seven the day his grandfather had smashed a bottle of champagne against the bow of this very ship, launching it on its maiden voyage. He’d lost count of the number of cruise ships he’d travelled on since.
Smile. Flirt. Be friendly.
