Page 27 of Troubled Skies (Blue Skies #3)

“Good. Now come do the serving dishes for the crew lunch.”

Several minutes later, Sylvie returned, and Rachel immediately dispatched her and her assistant to the officers’ mess on the Bridge Deck, then indicated that Ren should follow her below to where the crew was assembling for lunch.

There was some good-natured joking that fell into silence as Ren appeared, but Rachel told them all to knock it off.

“This is Henri, you all know him, you’ve all eaten with him before. Stop being idiots and eat.” She seated herself at the table and began putting food on her plate.

Ren slid in beside her as the rest of the crew followed her lead, complimenting her on the braised chicken or the tabouli salad or simply thanking her for the meal. Rachel rolled her eyes and continued to eat while Ren waited for the deck crew to take what they wanted before serving himself.

“Where is your companion?” one of the deck hands asked. He was a recent hire, and Ren had no idea what his name was, but he disliked the man’s tone. Fortunately, Rachel saved him from saying something unkind.

“He is taking lunch in his cabin,” Rachel responded.

“Seasick?” the deck hand asked.

“Oui.”

Ren was thankful that Rachel’s glare made the guy refrain from more questions and turned to the bosun for the latest round in their usual debate about replacing the yacht’s teak decking with a synthetic.

The current decking only had a few more years left, and Ren wanted his father to use something that was more environmentally friendly and longer lasting when it came time to replace it.

The bosun wasn’t convinced because the teak was classic and carried a certain prestige to it.

“And I’m not sure your father would be willing to forego the luxury of it,” the bosun said.

“Peut-être,” Ren responded. “But we’ll never know unless we ask, non?”

The bosun smiled at him and shook his head. “That is a conversation you can have with him, not me.”

“Coward,” Ren said with a smile.

“Without a doubt.” The bosun shrugged. “I like my job, Your Highness, and I’d like to keep it.

Whatever his majesty wants, that’s what I’m going to do.

” And with that, he rose from his seat and brought his plate over to the sink where two of his deck hands were having a good-natured argument over who was doing the washing up and who was loading the dishwasher.

Ren watched their easy interaction with a bit of envy and longing.

Although he had spent a fair amount of time with the crew—eating meals, clubbing at various ports when no one else his age was on board, and just day-to-day interactions while traveling—he wasn’t one of them.

With the exception of Rachel, his interactions with the crew remained on the professional side of friendly.

None of them would ever treat him as casually as Rachel did, and that was usually fine with him.

A hand touched his shoulder. “Are you all right, mon cher?”

Ren glanced at Rachel and gave her a one-shoulder shrug. “I miss him,” he said.

“I know,” she said, but then she rose to her feet and yelled at a deckie who was tipping the serving platter into the trash.

“What are you doing? That is for Sylvie and Veronique and your comrades who are still on duty.” She let loose a string of what sounded like Russian?

Ren couldn’t tell, but she all but leapt over the table to rescue the remainder of the meal, all the while chastising the crew member.

Everyone—himself included—slunk from the mess, the crew scattering to their tasks while Ren returned to the cabin he now occupied by himself.

With nothing else to do to pass the time, he stripped and headed back to the pool.

As he stretched out on one of the loungers, the sun’s rays warming his bare skin, Ren wished Adrian was there with him.

And if he couldn’t have Adrian, then something to drink that would numb the ache in his heart and fill the time he’d much rather be spending with the fiery-haired man who’d apparently bewitched him.

Ren’s night was as long and lonely as he’d anticipated when he climbed into bed.

Memories of the night before, all its joys and pleasures, taunted him, and he hadn’t been able to fall asleep.

Halfway through the night, he swore he heard Adrian crying out, which was impossible as their cabins were at opposite ends of the yacht.

Ren couldn’t shake the feeling that Adrian needed him, and he had to force himself to remain in his room.

When sleep finally came to him, it was broken and shallow, as if his mind was still on alert and listening for Adrian.

He woke to a sky that was as dreary as his mood and asked for his breakfast to be brought to the cabin.

Even after he ate, showered, and dressed, he had no desire to get out of bed, so he queued up a string of mindless movies and dozed as they scrolled past him until a text from Maurice made him pick up his phone to see several selfies of his best friend at one of their favorite clubs in LA.

Wish you were here , Maurice had texted, but it wasn’t the idea of his best friend having a good time without him that filled Ren’s mind.

LA was where Adrian lived and that brought the man charging back into Ren’s thoughts.

He left Maurice’s message on read without responding, sinking under the thick layer of covers on his bed while he wished Adrian was with him.

Almost as if the weather was reacting to his mood, raindrops splattered against the windows, and Ren’s mood plummeted further than he knew it could.

He was dozing again when a knock on the door roused him.

A quick glance at his phone told him he’d missed lunch, and he assumed it was one of the stews bringing him a tray.

Slipping on a robe, he answered the door, completely unprepared to see Adrian standing in the corridor, but he couldn’t hold back his delight.

“Mon cher! I am so happy to see you! Please, come in.” He stepped aside, but Adrian shook his head.

“I got a call from the hotel in Ibiza,” Adrian said.

Even though Adrian hadn’t moved, Ren could have sworn Adrian was further away from him than when he’d opened the door, and it frustrated him that he couldn’t reach out and pull him closer.

“You did not go to the hotel.”

“I know. But it’s the address I gave at the baggage claim, and I never told them I wasn’t going to make it there last night.”

“Adrian, I do not understand, but please, come inside and tell me what I can do to help.”

There was a moment Ren thought Adrian was going to agree, when he looked past Ren into the cabin they had shared that wonderful first night.

And that was when Ren realized Adrian looked like he hadn’t slept at all the previous night.

He had dark circles under his eyes, and he was pulling at his fingers the way Ren knew he did when he was upset or anxious. Oh, mon cher , Ren thought.

“They have my bag,” Adrian said. “But because I didn’t check in, they cancelled my reservation, and they won’t hold on to it until I get back to Ibiza.”

“Of course,” Ren said. “We will call Sylvie and have her take care of everything.” Softening his voice, Ren held out a hand.

“Please, Adrian, come in while we wait for her.” He nearly cheered when Adrian gave a curt nod and stepped across the threshold and back into Ren’s cabin, even if he did ignore Ren’s outstretched hand.

Ren crossed the room and picked up the phone on his nightstand. “Have you eaten lunch?” Ren asked. “I have not, so I can ask for something from the galley if you like.”

“I’m fine,” Adrian said, his gaze drawn to the windows and the water drops that still patterned the glass even though the rain had stopped.

Again, Ren wanted to go to him, but he settled for calling Sylvie to come to his cabin, then he sat on the edge of his bed. “Did you sleep well last night?”

“As well as I ever do,” Adrian said, still focused on the window.

“You slept well when you were with me,” Ren said softly, then cursed himself as Adrian turned to glare at him. Putting his hands up, Ren said, “I’m sorry. That was…not good of me. I know. But, Adrian—”

He was interrupted by a knock at the door and got off the bed to open it. Sylvie entered the cabin. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“It is not for me. Adrian needs to retrieve his suitcase from the hotel in Ibiza.”

She nodded. “Let me see what I can do. Which hotel were you staying at?”

Ren retreated to the couch in the corner as Sylvie conferred with Adrian. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, despite wearing the nondescript clothing he had worn on the plane, and despite the anxious expression, Ren was as drawn to Adrian as he had been the moment he saw him at LAX.

“I believe we can get the bag delivered to Valetta by the time we arrive tomorrow,” Sylvie said. “But if that doesn’t work, I can arrange for it to be sent on to Athens.”

The hope that set Ren’s heart beating faster at Sylvie’s words was dashed when Adrian glanced at him then shook his head. “If it won’t make it to Malta in time, is there some place that can hold it for me until I return?”

“I’ll check into it, but I’m sure I can find something for you.” If those words were not enough to break Ren’s heart, Sylvie’s next nearly killed him. “Would you like me to book you a flight from Valetta to Ibiza?”

“That would be great. Thank you.”

“Very good. I’ll let you know when I’ve made all the arrangements.”

“Please, put it on my account,” Ren said, getting to his feet.

“That’s not necessary,” Adrian told him. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, pous—”

“No.” Adrian glared at him as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket and thrust a credit card at Sylvie. She glanced between the two of them until Ren nodded and sat back down. He would sort it out with her later.

“Very good.”

The chief stew exited the cabin, closing the door behind herself with barely a sound.

“Why won’t you let me help you?” Ren asked Adrian. “You are in this position because of me. It’s only right I should do this for you.”

“I’m in this position because I let myself be blinded by another lying liar who lies.” Adrian stomped toward the door, but Ren rose and stood in his way. Adrian dodged, and Ren shifted to block his way again.

“What the hell do you want from me…” Adrian looked up at the ceiling. “Fuck. I don’t even know what to call you. Ren? Henri? Your Highness?”

“You call me Ren, as I introduced myself to you. That is the only thing I wish to be, mon cher. Your Ren.”

Adrian’s expression hardened, and Ren knew he had pushed too far again. “You’re not mine,” Adrian said. “And I’m not yours.” Then he walked out of the cabin.

Sinking back to his place on the couch, he wondered what he should do. He couldn’t ask Rachel. She’d already been very clear that there was nothing he could do unless Adrian forgave him, and that seemed as likely as Ren growing wings and flying the rest of the way to the Maldives.

The longer he sat there, the more he realized that what galled him the most about this entire situation was that he had no one to talk to about it. Maurice would laugh at him and tell him to get over it or offer to join Ren, and Ren didn’t know which he would find less appealing.

Even when he grabbed his phone and scrolled through his list of friends, no names popped out at him as someone in whom he could confide or from whom he could seek advice or consolation.

And there was no one to whom he wished to speak except Adrian.

It had been so easy to talk to him, so easy to let down his guard and just be himself.

He had meant it when he told Adrian that he didn’t reveal his title because Adrian so clearly didn’t know who he was.

At first, the novelty had intrigued him, but then he truly liked being just Ren.

Adrian’s Ren. And he would like to be that again if Adrian would let him.

By the time evening rolled around, Ren was sunk so firmly into despair that even Rachel breaking the rules to bring him a glass of his favorite red wine to go with her b?uf bourguignon failed to cheer him up.

Though he barely touched the food, he finished the wine and didn’t even wish he had the entire bottle in which to drown himself.

Then he put on another movie and braced himself for a second sleepless night.