But believing those words and feeling them is more difficult. What if he tries but he decides this is just too hard? What if I can never accept that I can’t do this for him?

I can’t look at him as I whisper, “We won’t have any children together, Michael.”

That’s as plain as I can put it. He needs to know the likelihood is slim.

I wait for him to not be angry. To give some sign that this isn’t the end of the world, and he still loves me more than anything, but…

He turns and walks away.

He leaves the room, leaving me standing there with tears on my face. Emptiness aches in my body everywhere. He hates me. God, he hates me. I can’t breathe.

“You knew?” I hear Banks ask.

“I found out,” Kai tells her. “It was an accident.”

I sniffle, my hands shaking. Oh, my God. He left. He walked out.

I close my eyes again.

“We’re killing him,” Damon growls, and he’s probably talking to Kai. “Right now.”

Banks, Ryen, and Alex step over, trying to hold me, but I shake them off gently. “It’s okay. I’m okay.” I wipe my eyes and move forward. “Excuse me, please.”

And I hurry out of the room, covering my mouth with my hand as I go, so they can’t hear the sobs.

Fuck you, Rika.

Something constricts my throat, and I startle awake, unsure if it was a noise or the sudden quiet that jostles me.

The engines have stopped. I lift my head and look around the dark room, seeing it’s still empty and the bed untouched. What time is it?

I’m still curled up in the chair in Michael’s and my cabin, having buried myself in it when I finally found the courage to step inside.

But he wasn’t here when I came in.

Setting my feet on the floor, I wipe my eyes and stand up, looking around again. It’s still dark outside. I glance at the clock on the dresser, the little bells chiming midnight.

It’s been three hours since the fight. Where is he? Why have we stopped?

Of course, I have no interest in going to Ireland right now anyway, so I’m kind of glad.

Leaving my heels next to the chair, I pick up the hem of my dress, so I don’t trip, and walk barefoot to the door. Opening it, I peer outside into the corridor.

“Michael?” I call.

Then, I listen.

But nothing. No noise coming from the other cabins. No music. No movement or conversation.

Stepping out of the room, I walk, swiping my fingers under my eyes to tidy up the eyeliner as I go. After the argument, I’d drifted to the bow to cool off and try to get my head straight. I’d put myself through every mental argument I could over the past several months leading up to this conversation, and not only did I completely blow it, but I expected everything from him except the one thing I got. Silence.

He just walked away like I was nothing. I was right to worry, after all, it seems.

Even if he were okay with it, I don’t know if I would be. He’ll go on, watching his friends have their babies, but it won’t be like that for us, and I hate that. I’d hate doing that to him.

I shake my head, taking breaths to calm myself. I don’t want to lose him.

After a while, I’d decided to go have it out privately, but when I went to the cabin, he wasn’t there. I curled up on the chair to wait and drifted off.

I hear splashes and look over the side of the boat and see people jumping into the water down at the stern.

Ryen and Banks swim back to the boat, while Kai and Misha jump in over their heads. They all laugh, blowing off steam while they can. Conclave still goes on, whether we’re in that room or not, I guess. It’s just Michael and me for now, though.

I take the stairs to the bridge. “Hello?”

“Hello?”

“Mr. Barris?” I say, stepping into the room.

We still face east, but he’s stopped the boat for now.

“Ms. Fane.” He rises from his chair. “Everything okay?”

I rub my arms, extra aware of my lack of under-clothes now. “Have you seen Mr. Crist?”

“Not for a while, no.”

I nod absently. Well, he couldn’t have gone far, at least.

I turn to leave but stop, noticing he’s been in the bridge all day.

“Where is Ms. Chen?” I ask. He should be getting to sleep soon.

He stares at me for a moment and then says, “I dismissed her for the evening a while ago.”

But then he looks away, and something unnerves me. Like he didn’t want to tell me that.

I look after him for a moment, watching him busy himself with something silly, and finally, I decide to leave. What’s wrong with dismissing her for the night? Why would he look uncomfortable telling me that?

Heading back to the owner’s deck, I slowly walk down the corridor, lightly knocking on rooms I know are unoccupied. He could be sleeping it off somewhere else to avoid me. I search the galley, the dining area, the lounge, and the wine room. There’s no one in the steam room; but the farther I go, the louder my heart beats in my ears, because if I haven’t found him yet, then he’s somewhere he doesn’t want to be found.

A thought occurs to me and my stomach rolls with nausea. Did Michael ask for Ms. Chen to be dismissed from the bridge early? Is that why Barris looked at me so weird?

The boat rocks under my feet, and I stop for a moment, steadying myself.

It’s not the boat. I’m dizzy.

Michael…

I swallow. No, he wouldn’t do that.

I descend the last set of stairs, the machines and engines humming quietly as the low lights glow across the red floors. I tread in the shadows, around giant cylinders, afraid to look in the nooks and small spaces, but this place—in the bowels of the yacht—is the only place left to search.

Maybe he’s with Damon and Winter. Maybe he took the speedboat back to shore?

A flash goes off ahead, and I look up, catching movement somewhere behind the tanks.

Slowly, I head that way.

Another flash goes off, and I hear a shuffle as I peer between two large white tanks, two more flashes going off. It’s a camera.

A woman with long, dark hair sits on top of a table, its legs nailed to the floor and her naked body in full view of whoever takes her picture. Her face is covered behind her hair, but I know who it is. It’s too long to be Banks and too dark to be Alex.

Samara Chen.

I watch as our first mate leans back on her hands, one foot propped up on the table and one leg dangling, as someone takes her picture over and over again. I close my eyes for a moment. I want to see who it is, but I’m pretty sure I already know.

I open my eyes, watching Samara slip her fingers between her legs, her hair falling behind her shoulders, so I can see her eyes now, eye-fucking the camera in front of her as she rubs herself in circles. The long lines of her torso, the smooth skin of her hips and back, her full, beautiful breasts…

An image of Michael fucking her on that table flashes in my mind, and my stomach twists again and again like a rubber band, and I clench my fists.

But as I slowly step to the side, my heart pounding so hard it hurts as I look around the tank, I see it’s not Michael taking her picture.

Alex has changed into a casual pair of gray lounge pants and white V-neck T-shirt. She holds a camera in her hands, cocking her head and watching as Ms. Chen props both legs up on the table, spreading wide for Alex’s view.