Gee, thanks. I’m notthatbad. Besides, he should be assuring them what a great dinner company I am, not bringing to their attention that I might cause trouble.
“Oh, my, you are so funny…” She squints at the badge on his uniform, which he didn’t have time to change out of. “Mr. Suwan. I am sure that Hex is a real sweetheart.”
I nudge her playfully on the arm, flashing her a friendly smile. “I am! Don’t listen to him. He’s just grumpy by nature and doesn’t know how to have fun. We’re gonna have an amazing time.”
Laughing, she scans her ID bracelet at the door’s terminal. Her partner walks into the opulent corridor on the other side first and then so do we. As the door closes behind us, I throw a glance over my shoulder.
Aran is standing there with his book, his face clouded with doubt. I replay his words from earlier, smiling because I can’t help it. My chest feels fluttery and warm. He cares about me, it’s confirmed. This cruise was such a gigabrain move. And dinner tonight? If I can pull off what I have planned, Aran will have no choice but to recognize that I am no longer a helpless kid who needs someone to look after him. I’m a grown-up man. His duty to my father has long been paid off, and the only reason he’s stuck around is because hewantsto.
Because even if he’s not ready to acknowledge it—which will change by the end of this trip—he likes me.
7
Hex
Thegildedcorridorleadsto an elevator which takes us to one of the lower levels. After a short walk via a similar hallway, we end up in an amphitheater-type vaulted room. Stained glass characterizes the ceiling, depicting mythological murals. The walls on three sides are solid, graced with Greek columns and protruding ornamental patterns, while the fourth side that spans the ship’s outer edge is thick glass. I’ve seen nothing like it. The ocean is right there on the other side, dark and mysterious.
Tables are scattered across the marble floor in a semi-circle formation around an elevated platform where an orchestra is playing classical music. It’s a famous piece that I feel like I should recognize but can’t. Mr. and Mrs. Lynx hum in rhythm to it as we descend the bifurcated stairs, nodding and saying curt hello-s to the guests.
None of them wear masks. And when we reach a table tucked by a domesticated cypress tree, my two companions get rid of theirs, too.
“Finally, I can take this vile thing off,” Mrs. Lynx says, flicking heavy blond locks of hair off her shoulder as he places the mask in the small box that came with the table. It sits next to the red herbal-scented candle.
Flashing her a smile, I study her face. Wrinkles are visible here and there, but there are a lot less of them than I expected. Her skin is generally smooth with an occasional hint that she’s past her prime, and her blue eyes are bright. The same is also true for Mr. Lynx, though he’s not so lucky to have all his hair intact. I suppose that even though they must be very rich, science isn’t so advanced as to let you buy youth yet.
Despite the good look that I get at my companions, I’ve no idea who they might be. I’m terrible with faces like that. Some I can recognize, of course—like my favorite actors or singers and close friends—but the rest? Not a chance in hell.
It’s no surprise then that as I pretend to take the room in so I can quickly scope out our neighboring tables, I don’t recognize anyone.
Ugh. If Aran was here, he’d know who these people are just after a quick glance. But he’s not. It’s all up to me to make this work.
A twinge of panic rushes through me as the noise and chatter close in on. I am on my own and it’s a little scary, but I just focus on Aran’s words from earlier, take a deep breath and let it all simply pass through me.
It’s okay, Hex. You got this. You might not be able to place the faces, but you are creative. You have other ways to figure out who they are… if you have the time. Focus on charming the Lynxes for now, and worry about the rest later.
“I love your make-up, Mrs. Lynx. The blue-green eyeshadow really makes your eyes pop,” I say, accepting the glass of wine she poured for me.
I pretend to take a sip, almost gagging just from the liquid touching my lips. Alcohol really isn’t my thing, and wine is the worst offender by far. Aran drinks, but it’s mostly whiskey, gin or sake, and he knows better than to offer me.
“Thank you, sweetie. It has to be touched up every three hours, but the result is absolutely worth it.” She preens, stroking the fat pearls decorating the necklace she’s wearing. It must cost a fortune, but then again, the guests on this cruise are used to owning a few of those.
I take another pretend-sip, regretting the decision immediately. “Do you do it yourself?”
She giggles and waves her hand at me. “Of course not! My stylist and my assistant help me.”
Oh?I thought the only passengers other than the staff were the billionaires. “You and Mr. Lynx brought people with you?”
She raises her hand to get the waiter’s attention. A golden three-tiered bracelet dangles around her thin wrist, glinting under the soft light of the crystal chandelier that hangs above our table. “We don’t go anywhere without our servants.”
Interesting. I wasn’t aware the guests were allowed to bring extras. For security reasons, amongst others, since this is supposed to be a super-secret VIP cruise, so evil people can make evil plans.
Scoping the room once again while Mrs. Lynx orders our dinner, I look for anyone out of place. If the Lynxes have their ‘servants’ with them, then the others probably do, too. It might be something I can exploit.
Unfortunately, I don’t spot anyone who doesn’t belong. All the remaining tables have the right number of people, who look like the secret kings and queens of the world. I have a feeling that servants aren’t allowed here, and that makes sense. Still, they would be a goldmine for info if I could get close to one and convince them to spill their employer’s dirty secrets.
Would that be easy? Hell no. These people are probably getting paid an obscene amount of money to ensure their allegiances remain with their bosses. But I’m sure that with Aran’s help—and the right kind of motivation—we can make them talk.
“I, uh, need to go to the bathroom,” I say sweetly.
