The Midnight Azure sliced through the ink-blue waters of the Great Barrier Reef.
Sugar was "hauled" into the master suite by Silas. It wasn't a bedroom so much as a glass cage floating on the ocean. Three sides were floor-to-ceiling glass, showing crashing waves, while the interior was a minimalist sanctuary of gray and black—pure Silas Thorne.
"Mr. Thorne, be gentle... it hurts." Sugar whined, rubbing her red wrist as she sat on the leather sofa.
She feigned weakness, but her eyes were darting around. Her camera bag with the chip was sitting on a marble table just three meters away.
Silas unbuttoned his cuffs with agonizing slowness. He loomed over her, her yellow dress splayed out like a crushed flower.
"Heart rate 120, but your breathing is perfectly steady." Silas leaned down, pinning her with one arm. "Sugar, your 'seasickness' isn't in your stomach. It's in your heart."
Sugar's heart hammered, but she flashed a saccharine smile. Her fingers slid down his collar, resting against his firm chest.
"You know so much, Mr. Thorne. Why don't you... help me fix my heart rate?"
She tilted her head, her misty fox-eyes full of blatant temptation. In the world of web novels, this "villainous enchantress" persona was perfect for hooking an abstinent lead.
As expected, Silas's gaze darkened. He didn't push her away; instead, he grabbed her hand and pulled hard.
Sugar gasped as she was forced to straddle his lap.
"I have a more efficient way to fix your heart." Silas's voice was like velvet. His other hand slid to the small of her back, his thumb pressing exactly where her micro-transmitter was hidden.
Sugar froze. Did he know, or was it a coincidence?
"Silas... that tickles." She leaned in, her warm breath ghosting over his neck, like a feather brushing against him.
Silas sneered. He knew she wasn't simple. No socialite could vault a railing that cleanly. But he wasn't in a rush to expose her. On this open sea where he made the rules, the game of cat and mouse had only just begun.
"Tickles?" He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. "Sugar, I'll give you a chance. Tell me the truth. Did you board my ship to escape the men... or to escape someone?"
The way he said "someone" was pointed.
Sugar decided to gamble. She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, "Maybe I wanted to escape the whole world... just to be alone with you?"
She pressed a butterfly kiss to his jawline.
It was a blatant provocation. Silas's breathing turned heavy. His cold facade cracked. He grabbed her head and kissed her with a punishing intensity, stealing every breath she had.
"Mm..." Sugar panicked. This man's kiss was as domineering as his personality.
Suddenly, the yacht jolted. Thud. It hit something.
Sugar used the momentum to shove him and dive for the marble table. Her fingers touched the strap!
"Stay here."
Silas was faster. He caught her and swiped the bag in one motion. He walked to the door and looked back with a playful smirk.
"Miss Valentine, stay put. Outside, there aren't just 'bad men.' There are Great White sharks that haven't eaten in a week."
The door clicked shut. Locked.
Sugar stomped her foot. She pulled a lipstick-sized decoder from her thigh holster and plugged it into the electronic lock.
"Silas Thorne, you think you've won?"
Ten seconds later, the screen flashed red:
[Miss Valentine, before hacking my door, try hacking my heart. Password: 124520]
124 was her flight number.
Sugar's heart skipped. He knew her identity and her flight!
"Madman," Sugar hissed, but her cheeks were burning.
Outside, Silas leaned against the wall. He opened the bag, but he didn't look at the chip. He pulled out a photo of Sugar's profile—one he had taken at the dock himself.
"Want to run?" he murmured. "Sugar, in Cairns, you go nowhere without my permission."