I flushed, holding my camera right below my chest. I opened my mouth to assure her I was far from that, but then remembered Wayland’s warning to keep quiet and stay out of the way.
“This is Aspen,” Theo said, crossing the deck until he was standing next to me. He seemed to suck up all the oxygen as his Tom Ford dress shoes tapped their way across the teak. He wore an all-black suit, tailored to perfection, the only pop of color being an icy-blue neck tie that made the steel gray of his eyes glow even more fiercely. His hair was gelled and styled in a Hollywood swoop, and yet a thick patch of stubble still graced his jaw, as if he looked that rich and decadent without trying at all.
I watched the women as they visibly swooned when he passed, saw how the men smiled in admiration as much as they sneered in jealousy. And then, he was beside me, and in a gesture I never could have prepared myself for, his hand met the small of my back.
I inhaled a stiff breath at the contact, at how warm and massive his palm was over the thin fabric of my tank top. He had to have felt it, the way I jolted at the touch, but he held me steady and sure, smiling wide and standing tall and confident at my side.
“Aspen is a travel photographer specializing in lifestyle and street photography,” he said, and I frowned, glancing up at him. He didn’t return my gaze, though, and I had no option but to roll with the elaboration of who and what I was. “She’s joining us for the summer, capturing photos of the yacht, the crew, and all the guests I’ll have aboard over the next few months.” He tipped his glass of champagne then. “Including you lovely rascals.”
A soft chorus of laughter rang out then, and much to my dismay, all eyes were on me.
I smiled at the group uncomfortably. “It’s very nice to meet you all,” I said softly. “I assure you, I’ll be as close to invisible as I can manage.”
Theo made a noise under his breath, and his hand curled where it rested on my back, as if he were biting his tongue against something he wished to say.
Just as suddenly as I’d felt it, though, his hand disappeared altogether, and he stepped closer to his guests. “Audrey,” he said to the blonde who had thrown herself at him. “I’m sure you’d love some photos on the top deck before the sun sets.”
“Oh, we must!” the other blonde chimed in. And then they linked arms, the redheaded woman taking up the other side, and they led the way for the rest of the group up to the top deck.
The evening passed like a desert storm from that moment on, a whirlwind of take a photo of me here! and oh, let me see, let me see, no, I don’t like that one, let’s take another, get my good side! and Theo, take a picture with me!
I snapped posed pictures and candid pictures alike, cringing more and more as the night progressed and the guests got further inebriated. It seemed the longer the champagne flowed, the more provocative the poses became — smiles turning to pouty lips, eyes glazing over with lust and booze, dresses being hiked up higher and higher.
I really didn’t mind, for the most part. I wanted to work. I wanted to earn my stay on this incredible yacht. It felt good to have something to do, the way the rest of the crew did.
But at the same time, my soul wrinkled its nose at my memory card being filled with vanity and illustrious glamour where I usually pointed my lens at humility and quiet grace.
I learned over the course of the evening that the men were clients of Theo’s — big shot bankers for the largest bank in France. It didn’t surprise me that they were Envizion customers, provided that a quick Google search had shown me that Envizion worked with every large bank in America, as well as the Department of Defense, among other impressive names. If my assumptions were correct, these men were likely the heads of his largest account in France, so it was no surprise they were onboard for an evening of entertainment.
The redheaded woman was wife to the taller of the two men, and I caught their names to be Bernard and Camille. Camille was the nicest of the group. She didn’t talk to me, per se, but she did offer apologetic eyes when the other women asked for me by a snap of their fingers.
The other man, who had nearly drunk himself into a stupor before dinner was even served, was named Gilbert. He seemed to believe he and Audrey were an item, but Audrey and the other blonde, Nicolette, were anything but shy about their interest in Theo.
It was fascinating, listening to Theo and Bernard talking business while the women gossiped about their friends and compared their latest shopping trips and exotic travel. For them, a night on a super yacht was just another day in the life. They drank four-thousand-dollar bottles of champagne like it was Bud Light at a frat party, kicked their expensive shoes off their feet without a care in the world, and soaked up the evening like only the rich could.
I also got a glimpse of the crew on their best behavior. I watched Ivy and Celeste serve dinner with cheerful, accommodating smiles and flirtatious jokes aimed at Bernard and Gilbert. Joel and Ace manned the bar, flirting with Audrey and Nicolette like it was part of their job — and by the way the women reacted, it seemed like it really was. Captain Chuck joined the guests for dessert, smiling and answering the questions they peppered him with.
I’d been on the boat for forty-eight hours now, but this seemed like my first real experience onboard.
My memory card was nearly full, and my back ached from standing all day by the time the guests finally started to call it a night. Celeste was still behind the bar, mostly keeping an eye on the guests to make sure no one got so drunk they fell overboard. The rest of the crew had been dismissed hours ago.
I didn’t have to look at the clock to know it was well after midnight.
Bernard and his wife helped Gilbert walk inside where the staterooms were, as he couldn’t do it on his own, and Celeste went with them as a courtesy.
That left Audrey and Nicolette, who were running their fingers through Theo’s hair, over the buttons of his dress shirt, along the inside seam of his pants. I tore my eyes from the sight, holding tight to my camera and waiting to be dismissed.
When I glanced back up again, I was met by a pair of heated blue-gray eyes.
Theo watched me like I was the next expensive bottle of champagne he would crack open, like all my efforts to be invisible throughout the night had failed miserably. I’d caught his eyes on me more than a few times throughout the night, though he never said one word to me, not since the introduction on the main deck.
Now, with the men retired inside, and two women hanging on him unabashedly, his gaze was more bold, severe in its unwavering intensity. His fingers held loosely to a half-empty glass of champagne, the other hand gripping the arm of the deck chair he sat in, his jaw ticking incessantly like he was equal parts annoyed and intrigued. Audrey and Nicolette were both piled in his lap, giggling and touching, oblivious to his lack of attention.
He cleared his throat, breaking our eye contact long enough to excuse himself and slither out from the pile of women. They tittered on in his absence, touching each other’s hair and smiling tipsily as Theo crossed the deck to where I stood.
For a long moment, he just stood there in front of me, sliding his hands into his pockets. Then, his eyes scanned the shoreline behind me, and the corners of his mouth tilted up just a notch.
“Thank you,” he said to the night air and to me and to no one in particular. “I know this is far from the kind of photography you wish to capture in your time abroad.”