“Happy now?” he asked. I nodded slowly, although if I was honest this seemed just as uncomfortable. There were some people sipping tea and eating sandwiches around the kitchen table who’d stopped to stare at us, clearly torn as to whether or not they should look like they were getting on with busy work since the boss was in their domain. But I knew that without the usual all-day entertaining on the boat (Jack seemed to have cancelled everything today, and all the staying guests had gone to shore) that there really wasn’t much for the staff to do.
“Listen up, guys,” Jack said to the room as he took his own stool and started eating his chicken. “I’m sorry Mr Blight was such a gigantic arsehole. Next time please feel free to complain to me, to the captain, whoever. This isn’t North Korea. We do actuallyneedto comply with the European Working Time Directive, whatever amount we pay you. So what he was doing wasn’t even strictly legal. I’ve paired down events now for the rest of the week, but I can’t get out of tomorrow night as its been set up for months, sorry. But it’ll just be snacks and drinks, nothing fancy. Everyone’s out tonight so no guests to cook for. That work for you lot?”
There were some mumbled yeses and lots of nodding.
“Great. Well, aside from getting ready for tomorrow night feel free to do whatever the fuck you want on the boat today. And please don’t think you have to tiptoe around me. I’ll do my thing, you do yours.”
His little speech worked and the kitchen relaxed - to the extent that a ripple of laughter went through the staff when ten minutes later Kira strutted in wearing her dental floss bikini.
“Well you said we could do whatever we wanted,” she told him, shoving on dark glasses so huge that they swamped her small face and heading up to the sun deck.
“Really? Whatever I want to do is okay?” I asked, the thought of getting off the boat perking me up a little.
“Er . . . yes, I –”
“Great! I’ve wanted to go ashore all week. Never been to Saint-Tropez before. Camping trips to the Lake District was more my family’s vibe.” I grabbed my now empty plate and took it over to the dishwasher. “No offence to your boat or anything but I’d quite like a bit of dry land for a change.”
He pushed up off the stool and frowned across at me before shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Are you going to go with Kira?”
I looked out of the window to see Kira sprawled out up on the sun deck and shook my head.
“I don’t think she’s planning on moving for a while. And she has this freaky habit of making me dress her.”
“Dress her?”
“I know, odd, right? I think it might be a fetish or something. Anyway no, I’m not going with Kira.” I skirted around him to make my way back to my fancy new room and grab my bag, but he took a step to the side, blocking my way.
“Don’t you think you should, like, sleep today or something? I don’t think you should be traipsing about all over town when you’re unwell.”
“Jack, it’s not like I’ve got a flesh-eating virus. I had a hypo, it happens. I’mfine.”
I dodged around him and power-walked to the room. He followed and then loomed in the doorway as I shoved my sunnies on the top of my head and slung my bag over my shoulder.
When I tried to leave the room his big body was blocking my way.
“I thought you said we could do ‘whatever we wanted’ today?” I said, both my hands going to my hips. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling then ran both his hands down his stubble-covered face (unshaven and ruffled was delicious on him – he looked like some sort of sexy pirate).
“I thought that would involve you sleeping, checking your blood glucose and eating appropriate meals. I even wrote a meal plan with the chef.”
“Er . . . the chef you’ve just given the rest of the day off to?”
“Bugger. Look,Ican cook the meals. Just –”
“Jack, you don’t have to cook my meals; you don’t have to worry about me on my own. I’ll be fine. And even if I’m not I’ve promised not to sue you,” I added, glibly.
That was the wrong thing to say. His eyes flared with annoyance and he took a step into the room – I took a corresponding one back and felt my eyes go wide.
“What is it with you thinking I’m worried about you suing me?” His hands went to my shoulders to halt my retreat and he gave them a light squeeze. “I care aboutyou, Urvi. You know that.”
I wrenched out of his grip and fixed him with a furious stare. “I donotknow that, Jack Bailey,” I snapped. “You’ve treated me with utter contempt and complete disinterest over the last few days. It’s only guilt that has you back-tracking now. So don’t even try to claim that you care about me.”
His mouth snapped shut and I could hear him grinding his teeth. “I … I’m sorry, Urvi. I would give anything for you to forgive me but that’s not why I’m –”
“Don’t bullshit me,” I cried, losing control of my emotions, which had only been hanging by a thread after the events of the last few days. “Youhurtme, Jack. You treated me like I wasnothing. Even offering me this job was . . .” I trailed off and felt my throat burn. The job offer had been a slap in the face. It was a line in the sand between him and me, with me on the employee side, the little people side. And it had hurt me.
“I thought youwantedthe bloody job!” he said, his face awash with confusion. “Iwanted to invite you here as a . . . as my . . . Ugh! This is so embarrassing.” He sat down heavily on the bed and put his head in his hands.
