In Over His Head

Chapter 7

The yacht was slicing through the water, slowing down and turning when Sharla finished putting her dress back on. Thankful for the dramamine, she'd slept for four hours the moment it had hit her system, and woke up refreshed and way less pukey. Maybe even okay enough that she could have some wine with dinner. The package of pills said no alcohol, which was a shame. Kevin said he ordered a local favourite for tonight's meal.

One of the crew—she couldn't remember who—had given her wee bands that went on her wrists with an acupressure button on them when they'd shown her to her room. She'd forgotten about them until she woke up, because it was like something out of a dream, distracting her from everything but taking in exactly what she was standing in.

Her cabin was huge, all done in what looked to be mahogany, with jewel tones of blue, green and dark pink on all the fabrics. A completely round bed sat up against the middle of one wall, an ornate headboard that looked like waves frothing out from the floor. A full bathroom and soaker tub nestled off to one side shone out with polished pink marble and bright gold fixtures. The suite also had a closet with a makeup desk and stool. There was even a balcony she could sit out on through some glass doors, with two teak deck chairs already unfolded and waiting.

The best part was the whole room was decorated with seahorses. Paintings, carvings in the wood, little trinkets dotting the shelving everywhere. It was like she'd stepped into an undersea adventure. It was a bit dated, especially the pink marble and gold, screaming eighties and old money. But who was she to complain? She was on a yacht that was bigger than her parents' house, floating in the Mediterranean off the Amalfi Coast. For her job.

"Ma'am?" a voice called along with a short rap. Sharla stepped over and opened the door, and a crew member was standing with towels and a fancy toiletry bag.

"I've brought you some towels and such. His lordship wished to ensure you had everything you needed, and to inform you we're arriving at Positano in a few minutes."

"Oh, thanks, you can set them on the bed," Sharla said, unsure on what to say. She was considered staff at Barleystook, and here, apparently, she was a guest?

The young woman paced in, set the pile aside, and immediately made the bed as well, straightening out the covers like she'd done it a thousand times, then fluffing the pillows and karate-chopping a perfect dent in the middle. Sharla watched her, amazed at the speed the woman set her sheets to rights.

"You don't need to—" Sharla started, then stopped as the woman smiled at her and made her way back to the door. She was in a crisp light blue uniform shirt, her dark hair tied back severely, tanned and obviously used to being on a ship. Sharla wondered how many staff there were. It seemed like a lot, she'd not bumped into a crew member more than once so far, and had met about six of them.

"Do you need anything, Ms. O'Brien? We've set out tea at the back dining area on this level. His lordship is waiting for you there."

"No, I'm fine. Thank you, ahh..." Sharla said and gestured at her. She wasn't wearing a name tag and Sharla didn't want to be rude.

"Liza. I'm second stew on the Ariadne," she responded. "If you don't mind me saying ma'am, we're pleased to see Lord Rathwell here. He's not been on the ship in over a year. Even more glad that he's brought someone to relax with."

"I work for him," Sharla quickly said to Liza, catching the insinuation that she was Kevin's girlfriend. "He's my boss."

Liza winked and stepped out of Sharla's room. "Let me know if there is anything else you need, Ma'am!" and strode away quickly down the hallway towards the front of the ship. Ma'am. Sharla pondered on that. Did the crew not know that she was his wine business manager? It seemed like they would have been briefed by the captain, but what did she know?