Chapter 2
Music from the upper deck came through the ceiling as a dull beat.
I held my white silk dress beneath the tap.
The water ran pink, then clear.
The stain stayed.
I turned off the faucet and laid the ruined fabric over the edge of the small stainless-steel sink.
A quiet knock sounded at the door.
A female crew member stood in the narrow passageway, holding a black cocktail dress inside a clear garment bag.
"Ms. Bellandi sent this down," she said, looking firmly at the hanger. "She said white was no longer appropriate."
The tag showed my size.
Sofia had brought the dress aboard before she spilled the wine.
"Thank you," I said. "But I brought my own clothes."
The woman nodded and carried the dress away.
I closed the door.
I pulled a gray sweater and black slacks from my duffel bag, zipped it, and left it on the mattress.
I had just pulled the sweater over my head when the cabin door opened again.
Luca stepped inside and pushed the door shut.
He didn't look at the wet silk in the sink.
"Sofia shouldn't have thrown the wine," he said.
"Then tell her."
"You should have come below when I asked."
I stared at him. "You announced your engagement while I was still standing there."
"If I walk away from this marriage, two crews start shooting before we reach shore."
He didn't raise his voice.
He had already decided.
This wasn't a conversation.
"The marriage is for the family," Luca continued, stepping further into the cramped space. "What you and I have is separate. Nothing has to change."
I stepped back until my spine hit the edge of the sink.
He meant to marry Sofia and keep his toothbrush in my bathroom.
"And where exactly do I fit?"
Luca looked around the windowless cabin.
The commercial dryer in the laundry room next door thumped heavily against the thin wall.
He didn't answer.
Six months into our relationship, I had learned what the Moretti name actually meant.
I had packed the shirts and spare toothbrush he kept at my apartment into a bag and set it by the door.
Luca hadn't tried to stop me.
He had stayed on the other side of the kitchen counter.
"I can't promise you a normal life," he had sworn. "But I can promise you'll always know where you stand."
This was where I stood.
The door opened.
Sofia stepped inside, holding a small bottle of stain remover.
She placed it on the narrow dresser.
"Sofia, get out," Luca said.
His voice was low, but it wasn't a request.
Sofia ignored him. "If she's staying in your life, Luca, she needs to understand the arrangement."
She opened her clutch.
She pulled out a thin silver chain and set it beside the stain remover.
I recognized the St. Christopher medal immediately.
The clasp was slightly bent where it had caught in a zipper two years ago.
Three months ago, Luca told me the chain had broken and the medal was gone.
"He left this in my room in March," Sofia said.
March.
I remembered a Tuesday night in March.
A text message from Luca reading: Still with my brother. Don't wait up.
I looked at Luca.
"Did you sleep with her?" I asked.
"Evie--"
"Yes or no."
He looked away. "Once."
"The first time," Sofia corrected.
I picked up my phone from the bed.
Zero bars.
I opened the settings.
The yacht's network was still listed.
The password that had worked that afternoon no longer did.
I grabbed the strap of my bag. "I'm leaving. Put me on a tender or take me to the nearest marina."
"No," Luca said.
"Move, Luca."
"We're not turning around."
"Don't make this ugly," he added quietly.
I looked at the silver medal resting on the dresser. "You already did."
Sofia walked into the passage without another word.
Luca followed her.
"She stays in this cabin," he told someone in the corridor.
"Yes, sir," a voice replied.
The door closed.
A soft chirp came from the electronic lock.
The metal handle stopped halfway when I pressed it.
A chair scraped across the passage.
The guard sat down outside my door.
I turned back toward the mattress.
The small side pocket of my duffel bag was open.
The phone charger Luca had packed for me lay beside it.
I hadn't taken it out.