“That’s it. I’m done here.” And Stewart was done. “I don’t care if I get in trouble. You’re nuts, and I’m not gonna stand here and watch you be nuts anymore.”
“I’ll see you at dinner, handsome!” she shouted at his back.
And she did. But it was an uncomfortable feast—Juanita was sobbing hysterically as she learned just how horrible her new heaven was.
And every guest, every server, every girl scheduled to entertain knew why.
Pretty Juanita had mentioned one particular man too many times. Was extra excited to see him. She’d fallen in love.
And so had the man Juanita favored.
But unlike Neil, he had known better than to offer for her.
Instead, he slapped her, hard, in front of them all at a party. The big man crying and sputtering the whole time he called her a whore.
It wasn’t a secret that Eugenia and the captain traded words every day—a few minutes here and few minutes there—but it was the first time besides the night he ripped her hymen on dirty fingers that she’d approached him.
The captain…
…who was watching her and not the tableau on deck. Who had been watching her the whole time.
“Aaron,” she offered.
A tip of the chin. “Eugenia.”
Arms around her middle, the day having been a shit waste of her time. Feeling naked under his stare for a reason she could not pin, she said, “I think you should let them be together.”
“Why? Why should they get what the rest of the ship can’t have?”
How could he sound so reasonable when two people were in so much pain?
Hard to think, even harder to say, Eugenia bared her thoughts. “Because they love each other. The real kind.”
Hazel eyes bearing down upon her as if she were the only person on that entire crowded deck, the captain said, “They’ve known one another a handful of weeks. Love? That ain’t the real kind. Nor would it last as she kept playing around, which she would, because she likes the attention, the favors, the upgrades, and cock.”
How he could continue to reduce them all to comfort sluts, she couldn’t grasp. Why couldn’t forever be real in a place that was so bad? “What if you’re wrong? What if that love at first sight bullshit is true?”
Throat bobbing, he swallowed before he might speak.
Not that she refused to give him the stage to wax poetic on his crazy rules. Not when someone might actually find joy in all this shit. “Can I take her inside?” The request was followed with a quick, “I’ll come right back, work both tables, and be the dumpster in trade. Give Faith and Chloe a night off. Give Juanita a chance to… think.”
Raising a knee, he let his boot rest against the wall at his back. “But you don’t even like her.”
Which didn’t matter at all. “I don’t like anyone. I’m antisocial and a pretentious jerk; you know that.”
Laughing, a bitter, hard sound, he laid out the cost. “You’ll owe me a favor.”
“And you owe me so much more than that.” Which led to a stirring of dark feelings swallowed way, way down. “You owe me so much more, Aaron.”
The cocky bastard smirked. “That lip is going to cost you another ten-thousand tickets.”
“Fuck your tickets! I don’t need them. And yes, you’ll have your favor, though I suggest you don’t abuse it.”
“You know I will, darlin’.” The lazy cowboy act, the accent. All of it a show as he brushed her cheek with his knuckles.
In a way, it was hard to admit she knew him on a level the others didn’t. “I’m going to take Juanita inside.”
“If you need to talk it over, I’m here.”