Page 26 of Troubled Skies (Blue Skies #3)

thirteen

Ren

Ren watched Adrian storm through the sliding doors and disappear into the ship.

At least he did not wish my cock to be consumed by forest creatures, Ren thought.

That is something to be thankful for. But then he remembered the way Adrian had glared at him, and why he had felt exposed enough to cover himself.

Mon Dieu, how badly have I fucked this up? Ren asked himself as he followed Adrian’s path. Instead of returning to the cabin, though, he headed for the only place he truly felt at home on this yacht: Rachel’s galley.

As soon as he passed through the swinging door, Rachel looked up from the vegetables she was preparing for the crew’s lunch. “You know the rules. Go put on some clothes, then you can come back and tell me what you’ve done.”

“I did nothing,” Ren said, instantly reverting to the petulant boy he’d been when he met Rachel.

Rachel narrowed her eyes at him but returned her attention to the vegetables on her cutting board.

“If that were true, you would not be standing in my galley alone wearing only a towel and looking as if you wanted to throw yourself overboard.” She shook her head.

“Go put on some clothes and then come help me prepare lunch.”

“I can’t,” Ren said, barely keeping his lower lip from pouting. “Adrian is in the cabin.”

“So?” Rachel raised an eyebrow and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

“He is moving cabins.”

“What did you do, Henri?”

“Moi? I did nothing. I told him the truth, and he said he wants to leave the ship.”

“Hmmm. I repeat, what did you do? Or is it what you did not do that’s the problem?”

Rachel continued to prep, and Ren leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, knowing she was waiting for him to get his head out of his ass because she thought he had had something to do with Adrian’s abrupt…Ren stopped himself. Had it been abrupt? He thought back to their conversation.

“I don’t think he came to me to say he wanted to leave,” Ren said quietly. “But I fucked it up.” He thought some more. “He said he thought I might be abducting him, but I took it as a joke. He asked why I had not told him who I was.”

“And why was that?” she asked without looking up.

“Because I liked him not knowing, but he said I had lied to him about it in order to get him on the ship and have my way with him.” Ren had meant to toss that statement off as a joke, but then something clicked into place.

“He has been betrayed by a previous lover, a man who said he was one thing and turned out to be something else.” He paused to consider other things Adrian had said to him.

“Perhaps there are more than just this one man.” He looked at Rachel, but she was pretending to be completely absorbed in slicing a colander full of courgettes.

“He has been hurt, and now he thinks I am one more asshole he cannot trust. What should I do, ma chérie?”

“Go to your cabin, change into clothes, and come help me prepare lunch.”

“But what about—”

Rachel made a dismissive noise. “There is nothing you can do, Henri. You must give him time. Does he like you? Oui. Bien s?r. But you must see it from his side if you have any hope. If he has been hurt as you say, there is nothing you can do unless he gives you a chance to make things right. If he chooses to leave without giving you that chance, then that is his choice, and you will have to live with it.”

“I could demand he stay,” Ren said. “No one would let him off the yacht if I did not allow it.”

“Ah! Non. Then you would truly be kidnapping him.” She pointed the knife at him.

“You cannot keep him here if he wishes to leave. He is not your subject nor your employee to order about as you like.” Putting the knife down, Rachel wiped her hands on a dish towel as she came around the counter and walked right up to Ren.

She placed her hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye.

“It’s good for you to have met someone who does not let you get away with shit, someone for whom you need to make an effort and cannot rely on your name to bend them to your will.

” She smiled. “Leave him be for now. Let his emotions settle. If he has been hurt like you say, he will need to know he is safe before he can let you close again. And he is proud, non? Likes to stand on his own two feet? Pretend everything is fine while he works it all out for himself?”

Ren nodded. He may not have spent a lot of time with Adrian in the past…

Mon Dieu, had it been less than forty-eight hours?

There were many things Ren adored about travel, but the way it messed with his sense of time was not one of them.

He felt as if he had known Adrian for days, as if Adrian had always been by his side.

Regardless of the time that had or had not passed, he knew many things about the man, things Rachel had put her finger on.

“He does. Oui. All of that.” He hung his head and then accepted Rachel’s hug as she wrapped her arms around him.

“I hate that I have hurt him, ma chère.”

“I know, but all you can do now is wait for him to give you a chance to apologize.”

At times like this, Ren was grateful the Belle’s prickly chef had taken a liking to him when he was nothing but a moody, selfish, self-centered tween pissed off at being stuck on a yacht with a bunch of stuffy, entitled sycophants who were only nice to him because they wanted something from his father.

She’d recognized that he was lonely and bored, his father too involved with entertaining and business to understand there was nothing on the yacht for him to do but be underfoot or make trouble for the crew.

She’d invited him into her galley and taught him to cook.

Eventually, she asked him to join her on culinary adventures even when the Belle was idle.

Rachel had saved him many times over, and he was grateful.

He also recognized the wisdom in her words.

“Do you think he will give me that chance?” Ren asked and his heart hurt with the possibility that this was something neither his wealth nor his privilege would be able to fix.

“I do, mon cher,” she said, and Ren’s heart soared. At least until she added, “And if he does not…” she shrugged. “You will learn to live with a broken heart like the rest of us.” She let him go. “Now go and get changed. Lunch does not cook itself.”

With those words ringing in his ears, Ren returned to his room as Rachel had requested.

He hoped to find Adrian still in the cabin, but even as he stepped through the door, he knew he was alone.

For a brief moment, his fears left him when he found all the clothing he had bought for Adrian still hanging in the closet along with—yes—the pearl necklace in the top drawer, but then he realized Adrian’s messenger bag and carry-on were gone as were all his toiletries from the bathroom.

The stunning Gaultier jacket that had first caught his eye was nowhere to be found either.

More than anything, that convinced Ren of the finality of Adrian’s absence.

Ren sat on the bed, fighting against the urge he had to bang on every single cabin door on the entire yacht to find the one in which Adrian was hiding from him.

It would not serve him. He knew this. Rachel was correct.

That was small consolation when all he wanted was Adrian in his arms again and was faced with the realization that the person he wanted might not want him back.

When Ren returned to the galley, he found the captain leaning against Rachel’s prep station, but instead of scowling at the man, Rachel was smiling and…

giggling? Ren had never heard that sound come from her mouth before, and he tried to keep out of sight so he might observe them, but the captain saw him and motioned him forward.

“Will our stowaway be departing in Malta?” he asked, pinning Ren with an expression that did not fail to convey how displeased he was with Ren’s guest.

“He is not a stowaway,” Ren said. “He is my guest. And he has not decided yet.”

The captain gave a curt nod. “I will need a copy of his passport to clear him before we dock, see that he brings it to the bridge as soon as possible.” He turned back to Rachel and gave her a warm smile, then exited the galley.

Ren eyed Rachel. “What are you doing, ma chère?” he asked. “Monsieur le Capitaine has a mistress already.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “He and Simone broke up.” She shrugged. “It’s only a bit of fun, but it will go nowhere because Antonio is an idiot who believes he is too old for me. Now come help me.”

Filling him in on the crew gossip while they worked side by side, Ren’s mood brightened. At least it did until the meal was ready to be served, and Rachel handed a prepared plate to Sylvie.

“He is in the blue suite,” Rachel said, turning to Ren as he opened his mouth and fixing him with a stern expression. “You will leave him alone.”

“Je sais. Je vais.” Ren turned to Sylvie. “Please let Adrian know that if he wants to speak with me, I am here to listen.”

“Of course.” Sylvie headed to the stairs that led to the Upper Deck while Rachel turned back to arranging the serving platters for the bridge crew.

“He chose it himself?” Ren asked as hope rose within him.

The cabin Adrian now occupied was where he usually stayed when he was on the yacht, the space he preferred because of its private location at the back of the ship overlooking the pool.

He favored it so much, his father had let him choose the décor for it and rarely allowed a guest to occupy it if Ren was on board.

He had only chosen the forward cabin because of the view, and because he thought Adrian would like it more.

The fact that Adrian had chosen the blue suite for himself had to be a good sign. Ren was certain.

“He did.” Rachel raised an eyebrow at him.

“I will do nothing unless he comes to me first, I promise.”