“So why are you on this boat alone?” I asked.

“You first,” Jean Pierre said.

“My mother is celebrating her fiftieth birthday and made us all join this stupid trip,” I replied.

“And you aren’t with them?”

“Fuck no!”

“This really isn’t my place but parents don’t grow on trees. Cherish the time you get with them,” he said.

“Not all parents are created equal. My mother has made everything in my life about her. I can’t even be myself in my own home because it doesn’t fit her narrative of perfection.”

Fuck! Not moments ago, this gorgeous dude was openly hitting on me and now we were once again talking about my mother! Argh!

“Come, have a drink with me,” Jean Pierre said, offering his hand to help me to my feet.

“Why should I do that?” I asked, taking his hand anyway.

“Because you're curious where this will lead,” he said, coyly.

I suddenly had a flash of those strong, tattooed arms pinning me up against...

“One drink,” I said, holding up a finger.

I'd never done anything like this before. I was a twenty-one-year-old economics student with a sex life that could be described as anemic, to say the least.

Jean Pierre was staying in the Presidential Suite. This morning, I had seen him on his private balcony which was more or less the size of my entire room.

The drink he promised was served from a fully stocked bar, together with oysters brought up by his personal butler.

“Who are you?” I asked, taking a tour of the space without asking.

“If I decide to answer, would you consider keeping an open mind?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Are you some kind of crime kingpin?”

“Worse,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m the heir apparent to the throne of Anchy, a principality bordering France and Belgium.”

“You’re a Prince?!”

“Guilty as charged,” he said, holding up both hands.

“But... I thought... I’m... How do you know I’m not a threat?” What an absurd question to ask. What the fuck was wrong with me?

“A thorough background check has been run on every passenger and member of staff,” he answered slowly. “Even then, there is a guard at the door and no one can get on or off this ship whilst at sea.”

My head tilted slowly as I scrutinized him.

“I knew about you long before you even got on board.”

I took a moment to process what that meant and came to the conclusion that I was NOT ok with that.

“I gotta go,” I mumbled.

“Please, let’s talk about this,” he said, gently touching my arm.

“I’m not onboard entertainment,” I snapped.

He didn’t stop me when I left the room and slammed the door.

***

Despite my dramatic departure from Jean Pierre’s suite, I was now curious about his claims. A quick Google search revealed that he was telling the truth.

His father was the Sovereign Prince of Anchy and a direct cousin of the King of Belgium. His mother; the daughter of a French shipping mogul, had died six years ago. It was surely the reason why he told me to cherish my parents.

There was no mention of him being in any kind of relationship and definitely no reference to him being gay. It immediately occurred to me that he was even more trapped than I was.

My mind started an argument with itself as I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling.

Yes, he probably knew more about me than I did about him but he was a Prince for fucks sake.

Out of more than two thousand passengers, why had he picked me? Was I supposed to be a potential hookup for the duration of the trip? What made him so confident that I would be up for that? Was he just used to getting what he wanted, like all people of privilege?

On the other hand, why was I resisting his advances? Out of principle? If he hadn’t told me who he was, I would probably have let him seduce me because he was gorgeous and for some bizarre reason interested in me.

***

“Why me?” I asked, sitting down at Jean Pierre’s table in the fine dining restaurant.

Only a handful of passengers had access to the exclusive area and if Jean Pierre’s butler hadn’t recognized me, I’d never have managed to get past the host.

He took a sip of his wine and looked at me intensely. He clearly hadn’t expected me back after my earlier performance.

“Because you showed interest in me without knowing who I was,” he said matter-of-factly.

“What? But you said that you selected me before I even got on board.”

“No, I said I knew about you before you got on board,” he corrected. “I only decided to talk to you after you deliberately lowered your sunglasses to stare at me for much longer than is considered a casual glance.”

“But that actually makes sense,” I said.

“Did you think I planned our encounter in advance? I’m not a serial killer,” he said with a hearty laugh.

“Let’s start over,” I said, extending my hand. “Killian, nice to meet you.”

“Jean Pierre. A pleasure,” he said, smiling. With an almost imperceivable gesture, he indicated to his butler to serve me a glass of wine.

“Why are you on this cruise by yourself?” I asked, taking a sip from my glass. Holy fuck that was smooth!

“I was in the US shopping for a university to continue my studies.”

I frowned at his answer and said, “And you are going back by boat?”

“This is the fastest Atlantic crossover that doesn’t involve air travel. I lost my mother in a plane crash and now Pappa doesn’t allow any of us to fly.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I breathed.

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