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I’m vaguely aware that someone is talking to me, but I’m too interested in finding out all about the goddess to pay any attention whatsoever.

Long legs and blonde hair are my weaknesses, and that’s all I can see at the moment; I’m itching to find out to whom they belong. Thin, almost platinum hair and endless legs are enough to completely bewitch me.

The tray she’s holding looks impossibly heavy for such a delicate frame, and my suspicions are confirmed when the glasses swing dangerously on it.

Another waitress shows up to help, and then, finally, I’m able to admire the whole picture—of her back. Like it’s a game of hide-and-seek, she turns around before I can see her face.

And yet, the little I see is enough to make my pulse quicken.

I’m not the poetic type, but I swear to God, I feel like I’m seeing an angel.

My main business is fashion, so I have a keen eye for bodies, and the girl whose name I don’t know would make an excellent runway model. With a body like that, she could show up dressed in garbage bags and would still be the only one seen by the audience .

I could imagine her hair being longer, flowing down in a delicate wavy waterfall, down her narrow shoulders.

I assume that without the high heels, she’s about six inches shorter than my six-foot-four, but her body is all female.

I’m totally focused on her, and that’s not normal for me. I love sex and women, but nothing takes my attention away from what’s going on around me.

Even before she turns around, I grab my cell and send a text canceling my date. I don’t sleep with more than one woman at a time, and there’s no chance I’ll spend the night with that actress when the mystery blonde awakens my body.

I type fast.

“Have fun in the suite. Order whatever you want. An unforeseen event arose. You will be compensated for it.”

I make a mental note to ask my assistant to send her a piece of jewelry. I turn off my phone right away because I don’t deal well with complaints or demands, and from my vast experience with women, I know that’s what’s to come.

“, do you want a tour of the ship?” Frank asks beside me.

“What?” I’m finally aware that there are other people with me, but at that exact moment, the blonde turns, almost in slow motion.

Her beauty makes me dizzy.

She is stunning.

Her delicate nose, full-lipped mouth, and blue eyes with a hint of Asian descent, make an exotic contrast to the ensemble.

I see beauty every day, and to be honest, it gets tiring, even boring, after a while.

But the woman in front of me is perfect and unique. I have never seen a face with such striking features. She has translucent skin and the eyes of a Japanese woman.

Her breasts are small—as far as I can tell with the ugly front of her uniform obscuring them—but she’s very sensual, as if her body was built for pleasure.

Look at me , I command, as if my thoughts have the strength to make her obey me.

“? ”

“Yes, I want to walk around the ship,” I say, just to get him to stop talking.

What’s her problem? Even when talking to the other employee, she doesn’t look up from the floor or make eye contact with anyone, and I need her to see me.

The waitress who helped her starts serving us. Frustrated, I see the object of my interest walking away.

I stalled as much as I could during dinner to see if she would come back, but nothing happened. Minutes later, I announced that I was ready to see the ship.

I don’t feel the slightest desire to spend more time with these people, each one despicable in their own way. But I don’t go back on my word, even though I’m dying to leave. I barely listen to Frank’s or the captain’s explanations, even when I occasionally stop to speak to a crew member.

I’m about to call it a night, frustrated as fuck knowing I’ll have to use other means to find out who the blonde is, when I notice a platinum cloud pouring out of a door and onto the deck.

I let the men know they must wait for a moment, and my tone makes it clear that I don’t want intruders.

Like a mad stalker, I set off in pursuit of the person I imagine is the woman who awoke my libido. I believe that opportunities shouldn’t be wasted, and if she’s the one I’m looking for, I won’t let her out of my sight again.

I walk slowly so I don’t startle her.

She seems to be taking a picture of herself—a selfie —with the ship as background.

The temperature has dropped, and I realize she looks cold, still dressed in a waitress uniform. Even so, she doesn’t give up on trying to get a good angle.

She also talks to herself from time to time, shaking her head like she’s arguing, and that’s when I find out there’s a voyeur inside of me .

I’m not used to waiting for things to happen. This time, however, I’m keeping myself in the shadows, just watching her, my hands in the pockets of my suit pants.

At this hour, the deck is deserted because there’s a party going on downstairs. In fact, from Frank’s explanations, she shouldn’t even be here; only authorized employees can use this floor.

As if sensing she’s not alone, she looks back and, startled to see me, drops her phone on the floor. She bends down to pick it up and looks like she’s about to run away.

“No. Stay,” I command.