Page 71 of Brutal
“I suspected the hot tub might feature, although we’d have to veto that on account of my hair.” Mimosa glances toward the yacht’s main cabin. “I haven’t had a chance to look at the bed, but I assume it’s very nice. Hopefully firm enough that we don’t sink into it while doing something acrobatic.”
I grit my teeth, downing half of the second drink in one go. “Why are you doing this?” I demand, frustration making my voice harsh. “We were having fun, weren’t we?”
Now she meets my gaze. “Doing what? Don’t you want to have sex later?”
“I want to know what you found interesting about me not wanting to share you,” I say hotly. “Because if you want, I’m sure I can find someone to fuck you while I watch. Maybe the waiter, or another member of the crew. Maybe the whole fucking crew. Goddamn it, Mimosa. Why do you have to fuck with my head like this?”
I slam my glass down onto the table and get up.
Mimosa stands too. She doesn’t look intimidated, but then, she never does—until I’m torturing her. Maybe that’s what she wants, what she needs, to stop doing this shit to me.
“If you want to do that, I’ll do it.” She inclines her head slightly. “But you just said you don’t want me to fuck anyone else. I’ll believe you on that.”
“Which you find so interesting,” I snarl at her. “But you won’t tell me why. What psychobabble bullshit are you just not saying? Huh? Don’t I at least deserve to know?”
I’m obsessing, and I know I’m obsessing, but the way she’d uttered that word — like I was just a bug under a microscope — has me agitated and on edge.
“Drake, you don’t want to hear my opinion,” Mimosa says calmly. “And you just said you don’t care what other people think about you. Let’s just go back to enjoying the meal, and you can plot out the terrible ways you’ll punish me after.”
“You don’t know me half as well as you think you do, Amber,” I snarl at her. “Or you’d realize that you are the exception to every fucking rule. I’ve been trying to get you to be honest with me, but no. No, you don’t want to be honest. You just want to bait me, and mock me, and act like you know so much more about me than you actually do. So fuck off. Go eat your dinner. You can have the main bedroom downstairs. I don’t want it.”
I don’t want you.
But that’s not the truth, is it? The truth is that I do want her, more than I can stand.
“Okay,” Mimosa answers, just as calmly as ever.
“Okay?” I ask in disbelief. “Okay? That’s all you have to say?” I make a disgusted sound. “I should throw you off this fucking boat.” I should do something. I should hurt her… as much as she’s hurting me.
Instead, I turn on my heel and stalk off, leaving a startled-looking waiter behind me.
“Bring me a bottle of vodka,” I bark at one of the crew members nearby. “I’ll be in the guest room.”
Funny, he doesn’t look surprised.
I guess this isn’t the first time he’s seen a romantic date night go to hell.
CHAPTER 18
Mimosa
I finish eating because the food is good and when else am I going to enjoy a meal on a yacht?
If I told Drake I like yacht trips, though, he’d probably take me all the time.
Either way, I don’t want to let the food go to waste. When I’m done, the server comes to take my plate.
“Do you think I was too mean?” I ask him.
The server startles, almost dropping the wine glass he picked up. “Um. I couldn’t say, Miss.”
“You could. I can’t fire you. Drake is the one who paid you.” I meet his gaze, and I wonder about how I appear to him. The spoiled girlfriend of the rich tycoon? A gold-digger, maybe?
He goes back to clearing the table. “Your relationship is your own business, Miss.”
I can think of any number of things my college classmates would have said. The women at Drake’s party would also have had choice words for me.
But I suppose I don’t blame the yacht crew for keeping their opinions to themselves, when their livelihood depends on customer service and not pissing off the elite who can afford their services.