Chapter 92 The Yacht Of Unspoken Truths
Chapter 92 The Yacht Of Unspoken Truths
ROSEMARY
Two weeks.
The number had become like a blade pressed against my throat that turned sharper with every sunrise.
I stood on the deck of the private yacht that Julian had rented for the evening, the Mediterranean Sea stretching endlessly around us under a sky painted in hues of burnt orange and deepening indigo.
The vessel felt like it was a floating palace, and boasted of a crew that moved like they were spirits or ghosts, ensuring every detail was perfect.
It was a grand gesture to say the least. Julian had arranged everything: my favorite wines chilling in crystal buckets, a chef preparing a multi-course meal inspired by our early days in Paris, and soft jazz drifting from hidden speakers.
He stood beside me now in a crisp white linen shirt, his sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms, looking every bit the charming, possessive husband that I had once started to believe in.
But I could not let myself fall into it.
Not when every touch felt like it came with invisible strings.
Not when the texter’s words still echoed in my mind like it was a warning bell.
“You did not have to do all this,” I said quietly to him, gripping the railing as the yacht cut smoothly through the water.
Julian stepped closer, his hand settling on my lower back. The heat of his palm burned through the thin fabric of my sundress.
“I wanted to. We need this, Rosemary. Just us. No empires to protect. No fathers to kiss their asses. No secrets. And I pulled every favor I could pull to make this happen.”
His voice was low, velvet-wrapped steel. He turned me gently to face him, tilting my chin up with two of his fingers.
The kiss started slow - almost reverent - but quickly deepened into something hungrier. His hands slid down my sides, gripping my hips and pulling me flush against him. I could feel how hard he already was, pressing insistently against my stomach.
I moaned softly into his mouth as one of his hands slipped under the hem of my dress, his fingers tracing the edge of my lace panties. He teased me there, brushing lightly over the damp fabric, never quite giving me what I craved.
My hips rocked forward instinctively and furiously, seeking more, but he kept the touch maddeningly light.
“Julian…” I breathed, my fingers curling into his shirt.
He smiled against my lips - that dark, knowing smile that made my core clench.
"Let me take care of you tonight,” he murmured, slipping one finger of his beneath the lace to stroke my folds.
“Let me remind you how good we are together.”
I was trembling, right on the edge of surrender, when a familiar voice cut through the night like it was a firework.
“Well, well, well! If it isn’t the power couple trying to defile the Mediterranean with explicit scenes before their contract even expires!”
Nyra stood at the top of the stairs leading to the deck, her hands on her hips, and grinning like she had caught us stealing cookies. Justin was behind her, looking amused and slightly guilty.
I yelped in mild horror, fixing my dress frantically as I tried to regain my composure. Julian groaned, adjusting himself with a frustrated glare in Nyra’s direction.
“Nyra,” I hissed, my cheeks burning.
“What are you doing here?”
Nyra dramatically clutched her chest.
“What am I doing here? What are you doing here, bestie? You still have two whole weeks left on that contract! You don’t have to be having secret yacht rendezvous like you're horny teenagers trying to beat the clock. There’s still time for proper romance! Candles! Slow dancing! Not… whatever this almost-public indecency was.”
Justin chuckled behind her.
“She made me come. Said she had a feeling you two needed a chaperone.”
Nyra winked.
“Someone has to keep you two from accidentally conceiving the heir to a merged empire on international waters. Think of the headlines!”
The moment was effectively ruined.
Julian looked ready to throw both of them overboard, but I could not help the small, reluctant laugh that escaped me. Nyra’s timing, as always, was both terrible and perfectly comedic.
JULIAN
The interruption left me feeling both aching and frustrated, but I forced a smile for Nyra’s sake.
Inside, my mind was a storm.
Later, after Nyra and Justin had “supervised” dinner and finally left (with Nyra making one last dramatic comment about “saving the best for the final week”), Rosemary and I stood on the deck again.
The teasing from earlier still lingered between us like it was smoke.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I tried to glance at it discreetly.
It was a new message from the unknown number:
Rosemary is not good enough for you to lose your mind over. Come back to your senses.
I deleted it quickly, but Rosemary had already noticed the shift in my expression.
ROSEMARY
My own phone vibrated moments later.
It was from the same unknown number that I thought had gone quiet.
"Julian's secrets run far deeper than you know. You know that he's lying to you."
My heart raced. The text felt too eerie. Did I know this person?
I typed back quickly with shaking fingers:
Who is this? Tell me who you are.
No reply came.
I stared at the screen, gripping the railing until my knuckles turned white. The sea stretched endlessly around us, looking both beautiful and indifferent to all the drama unfolding.
Julian stepped closer again, but I held up a hand.
“Not tonight, Julian," I whispered.
“I can’t keep doing this dance with you. I just can't."
The yacht carried us back towards the shore in heavy silence. But inside my chest, a storm was building - one that I feared would tear everything apart long before the contract reached its end.