Page 67 of Hook

“She’s not just a boat.” His eyes search mine. “I feel at home when I’m at sea.”

I frown. “Then why don’t you live on it?”

His jaw works. “It’s not as convenient and difficult to keep guarded in my line of work.” He rubs his hand across the back of his neck. “Boats can be quite easy to blow up, and my enemies wouldn’t think twice.”

“But you would like to live on it?” I confirm.

His eyes narrow. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m curious, is all.” It’s a little worrying that I’m curious about Cillian.

What made him the way is?Why does he hate Piero so much?

“I love the sea,” he says simply, eyes narrowing as he gazes out over it. “It’s freeing. No barriers.”

After my first experience out at sea, I admit I see the charm. There is a sense of freedom you can’t get anywhere else. “I did enjoy my first boating experience.”

Cillian chuckles. “Of course you did. Because I gave you the best massage ever, right?”

I roll my eyes at his arrogance. And while he did give me the best massage, I can’t believe it didn’t end in sex. A part of me was a little disappointed that it didn’t despite being sore. “Do you always have to be so arrogant?”

He shrugs. “It’s who I am, don’t like it? Tough.”

I give him a small nod as we continue toward the speed boat moored at the dock. We couldn’t bring Poison in as she’s too big, so Cillian anchored her at sea.

“I’m not ready to leave this place,” I admit.

“Good,” he says, nodding toward the busy harbor. “As I’ve booked us a table at a restaurant.”

I swallow hard, as it will be dark soon. “Won’t it be too late?”

He tilts his head. “We can stay on the boat tonight, if you’d like?”

I don’t want to go back to my gilded cage. “Sure.”

We pause on the way to the main harbor and watch a pelican swoop to snatch a fish from the ocean before soaring skyward again.

“I wish I had my camera,” I say.

Cillian looks at me inquisitively. “Camera?”

I swallow hard, wrapping my arms around my waist. “Yes, I like photography and bird watching, actually.” I can’t understand why telling him that makes me feel so self-conscious.

“You should have told me sooner. I would have taken one from the boat. We have cameras on there.”

I swallow hard and shake my head. “It’s fine. I’ve enjoyed my time without taking photos.”

“But it’s what you love to do?”

I don’t know why I’m telling him this, but I nod in response.

“Then I’ll ensure you have a camera at home to take photographs in the garden and on the beach.”

“Don’t think that means I’ll be happy about being held hostage there.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re hardly being held hostage.”

I struggle to understand how he believes that statement. “I think being kidnapped, forced to marry you and then locked away in a house is being held hostage. What do you call it?”

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