Page 10 of Modern Romance January 2025 5-8
‘Will there be anything else, sir?’
Jario didn’t answer for several seconds. Lifting his head after perusing the sheet, he said, ‘Yes. I’d like you to give the deckhands the day off. Miss Chatterton will be scrubbing decks two and three by herself today. You’ll let me know when she’s done and I’ll personally inspect it. Are we clear?’
‘What? Are you serious?’ Willow’s vexed demand was ignored by Jario.
For her part, Rebecca quickly masked her surprise. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Oh, and have security watch her at all times. If she attempts anything...untoward, inform me immediately.’
This time Rebecca’s puzzled gaze slid to her, but it didn’t stop her from nodding. ‘Of course, sir.’
Jario rose. ‘That will be all. You’re dismissed, too, Miss Chatterton.’
She stayed put, fighting the volley of protests she wanted to launch at him. Because with a click of his fingers, this man could have her tossed off his yacht. So she took a deep breath. ‘Mr Tagarro, I really need to talk to—’
‘No. Your task awaits. Or would you like to resolve this another way?’
Navigating the twin paths of a relationship with her father and pursuing her love of playing the violin had taught her the arduous tasks of dealing with overblown but fragile egos while suppressing her own emotions for the greater good. And yes, while she’d lately realised that that particular bough was in serious risk of breaking, she’d saved herself a lot of heartache in the past by simply letting time cool hot temperaments.
She was thankful for that discipline now when she accepted that reasoning with Jario in his current state was futile. Her only option was to let time lessen the impact of his mood.
Except timewasn’ton her side. The crossroads were drawing ever closer. But he was watching her with focus as deadly as the axe he’d taught her to throw last night, daring her to defy him. To give him the excuse he needed.
She sucked in a breath and accepted that she couldn’t risk it. Not until she got the answers she’d come for.
Turning from his icy contempt, she walked on shaky legs to the door where Rebecca waited. She hesitated there for a moment, a compulsion she couldn’t fight making her glance over her shoulder. His rigid expression was marred by a streak of bleakness that slashed through her. Before she could decipher it, Rebecca was shutting the door, her own gaze snapping with questions.
‘You’ve been here barely twenty-four hours. What did you do?’
Willow shook her head. ‘It’s a long story I’d prefer not to share. This is between me and Mr Tagarro.’
Rebecca’s lips thinned. ‘That may be your view but whatever you’ve done doesn’t impact just you. I’ve been summoned by the captain.’
Willow’s belly clenched with regret. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll make this right.’
The other woman stared her down. ‘How?’
Willow shrugged. ‘Guess I’ll start by scrubbing that deck?’ Her attempt at levity fell flatter than a pancake.
‘This may be a joke to you, but it’s our livelihood you’re messing with.’
Willow’s forced humour dried up. ‘It’s not a joke. Trust me on that.’ She waved the irate woman on. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’d rather get started sooner than later.’
She wasn’t helping her cause by not divulging her motives but in her short time on board, she’d noticed how fast gossip travelled. The last thing she wanted was to become ship gossip. Especially when she feared the bombshell she suspected Jario would reveal might annihilate her anyway.
The memory of Jario’s anger echoing unpleasantly, she arrived on the designated deck to find three deckhands waiting. Their blatant surprise at being informed they had the day off turned to wild speculation when Rebecca asked them to show her where the cleaning supplies were kept.
Five minutes later, with a burly guard standing watch, Willow was elbow deep in cleaning solution.
The blazing sun beat down on her back as she swiped the soft brush over the expensive polished white oak. Curiously, while she’d had every intention of despising the grunt work, especially its effect on the hands she needed to safeguard for her violin and piano playing, her resentment lessened beneath the repetitiveness of cleaning the polished wood, her rioting mind calming as she settled into her task.
She could do this. For the sake of rescuing whatever remained of her relationship with her father, she couldn’t fail.
Good news was, Jario Tagarro hadn’t thrown her off his yacht.Yet. As long as that didn’t change, she had a shot.
What if he’s merely toying with you before he turns you over to the cops? Or worse?
She’d deal with that if and when it arose. For now...her gaze flicked across the very wide deck, satisfaction spiking through her.