Cruising for Love (The Escape Series Book 2) (3 page)

I pace back and forth in my room before poking my head out into the hallway. It seems to stretch endlessly in both directions, with a plethora of closed doors. I have no idea where anyone else related to the show is staying.

After considering going to the ship's lobby and demanding to see T.J., I finally decide to take a few moments to calm down. Perhaps a shower is in order. After all, I have the grime of a half-day of travel on me. I'm not sure when filming will begin, but I'd rather at least be clean when I make my television debut. Trouncing out half-cocked and filthy to yell at the producers of the show would not make a terrific first impression.

I'll get this ridiculous wedding business straightened out once I am clean and presentable. They can't
make
me get married, right? I'm starting to wish I'd read that thick contract that was overnighted to me before I had blindly signed it.

As I let the steamy water in the barely-big-enough-for-one-person shower wash over me, I decide that I am in charge of me, no matter what that contract says. They probably want me to pitch a hissy fit about the surprise wedding. It would make for great television, but it would also make me look like a spoiled brat.

Instead, I will calmly tell them that the wedding is off. Perhaps the show can follow me and my intended groom as we go on a few dates and get to know each other? Or we could place the man they have chosen in a group of eligible bachelors to see if I choose the same one they have selected for me? That would make it a Bachelorette on the high seas kind of thing. There are plenty of ideas that will work without requiring a quickie wedding to someone I've never met.

By the time I emerge from the shower, I am calmed down and confident that I can talk some reason into the show's producers. Deciding that it has already been an exhausting and emotional day, I pull back the covers, intending to relax for a few minutes on the cool cotton sheets.

I must have fallen into a deep sleep because when I awaken to the sound of knocking on my adjoining door, the sun is setting over the horizon of the water. Deciding that whoever is on the other side can wait for a minute, I walk over to the sliding glass door to peer outside.

An expanse of blue water greets me. Surprised that I slept through our departure, I gaze out at the ocean. This is my first time on a ship of this size, and I'm relieved to see that we really are seaworthy, despite the significant tonnage the vessel must weigh.

Walking back to fling the door open, I'm pleased to see Syd, even though he has shocked me a couple of times already today with his flippant announcements. "Shouldn't they have beeped the horn or something when we left?" I ask him.

He smiles at my question. "They blasted the whistle when we embarked," he informs me before adding, "There was also a muster drill and bon voyage party on the pool deck."

"How did I miss all that?" I wonder aloud, truly perplexed.

"I looked in on you, but you looked so peaceful in your sleep that I told them to leave you alone."

"Isn't the safety drill mandatory?" I ask him, perplexed that I was able to skip out on something that seems so important, and still somewhat concerned about the ship's seaworthiness.

"It's amazing the clout the show has already," he informs me. "I let them know I would take care of you, and I will, Honey." He points to my closet. "Your life vest is in there. If the alarm sounds, follow the glowing arrows on the carpet to our lifeboat. I won't let you drown."

For some reason his words reassure me, even though I barely know the man. All thoughts of safety are quickly washed away as I follow him into the adjoining room. A rolling cart of gorgeous gowns has been wheeled in.

"Oh my!" Unable to stop myself, I walk over and begin looking through them. Each one is more fabulous than the last, and I squeal with delight over them.

"I'm glad you approve of our dress selections for you," the words come from T.J. He and Jamie have quietly entered the room from the hallway.

I turn to them, intending to hold my ground. "They are beautiful," I say honestly, before adding, "but I am not getting married tonight."

T.J. raises his eyebrows slightly as if my words amuse him. "Is that so?" He almost sounds like he's mocking me. "Your contract says otherwise."

"I don't care," I lift my chin in defiance. "I refuse to marry someone I don't know. There are other ways we can make the show work. I have plenty of ideas." Before I can begin to explain any of my thoughts, T.J. holds up a hand to stop me.

"Have it your way," he replies, making me wonder how I won him over so easily. I had thought I would have to do some major sweet-talking and negotiating. Then he reveals what he really means. "We'll find someone else to be on the show...someone who is grateful for the chance to win the $250,000 grand prize."

My mouth falls open. I assumed I would get paid something for my appearances on the show, but being an unknown, I thought most of my reimbursement would come from advertisements and special guest appearances once I became a household name. A quarter of a million dollars is beyond my wildest dreams. That amount of money could set me up for a long time. All of a sudden, the quickie wedding, while still outrageous, doesn't seem quite as preposterous.

Striking while the iron is hot, T.J. continues, "I'm sure there are plenty of young women who would love to take your place on the show and become famous. You are welcome to disembark the ship and fly home at our next port. This will be at your own expense, of course."

He smiles, but it's the smile of a crocodile, and I know I won't like whatever is coming next. "Oh," he starts like he has just thought of it, "you'll need to reimburse us the money for your tickets for the plane ride here and the cruise. Jamie," he turns to the woman standing slightly behind him, "find out how much Ruthie will owe us for her tickets, please."

"Sure," the woman nods, already pulling out her smartphone to do the needed research.

"We'll let you know the damages," T.J. informs me briskly as he turns to usher Jamie out of the room with him.

I don't need to hear the answer to know that it's more than I can afford. I'm doubting my decision to trust this slick producer, but I'm in too deep to turn back now. "Wait," I say, making the crocodile turn and grin at me like I was fresh prey that had just slithered into his swamp.

The croc and his assistant made a quick exit after assuring me that everything would be just fine. I turn to Syd, the only person on this ship that I trust at all, for advice.

"What should I do?" I ask him desperately.

"It's the chance to win a lot of money," he says rationally. At my nod, he continues, "And who knows, maybe it will be a true love connection."

I smile at him as he rolls my hair around the hot curling wand. I know that he's trying to be kind, but I need to talk to someone who has my best interests at heart...like my sister, Roxy, or my crazy grandma, Baggy.

Unfortunately, whoever unpacked my belongings had confiscated my cell phone. This discovery sent me into a minor panic attack over the picture I keep with me to look at every night before bed, but I found it still tucked away in the pocket of my suitcase. Immense relief flooded me when I realized it hadn't been taken, or likely even seen. I don't want to share that particular secret with the show's viewing audience, yet I still hadn't been willing to leave home without the photograph.

Before my nap, I had tried unsuccessfully to make a call from the desk phone in my room. Apparently, part of the 'fun' of this show is cutting us off from communicating with our loved ones.

Turning to Syd, I ask, "Is this crazy?"

"Yes, absolutely," he answers honestly before adding, "but that's okay."

Wondering what he means, I turn to look directly at him rather than his reflection in the mirror. He squats down so he can look at me eye-to-eye. "Think how much you have to gain from this, Honey. You might become famous, you might win a ton of cash, and I know you think it's crazy, but you just might find the man of your dreams."

I nod, acknowledging that his points are valid, but still uncertain about this whole arranged marriage thing. "And what do you have to lose?" he asks me logically. "Do you have a man waiting for you at home?"

"No," I admit, before adding, "but what if I can't stand the guy they've chosen for me?"

"So what?" he asks, flooring me.

"I'll be married to him," I remind Syd, wondering if he's gone dense.

"So, get an annulment or divorce him after the show. Honestly, it would probably make for better television if you didn't like each other––at least at first."

I ponder his words. They make a lot of sense. I had been looking at this wedding like it was supposed to be my 'happily ever after' ending. There is a slight, miniscule chance that it will be, but even if it's not, it isn't the end of the world. I hadn't looked at it like that before.

"So, I get a tropical vacation, I have a good chance of becoming famous, I might win loads of cash, and it's possible that I could meet the man of my dreams." I beam a smile at Syd as the reality of my good fortune begins to settle in once more. I had let the wedding thing throw me for a loop, but now my initial enthusiasm about being on the show is beginning to return.

"Now you're talking." Syd encourages me.

"And worst case scenario is that it ends up not being a good match, and I get a divorce."

"Which happens to half of all marriages anyway," Syd puts in. "Actually, you might have better odds than most of being happy together because I heard they ran extensive profiles on each of you to determine your best match."

This is news to me. I remember filling out and returning a personality profile in the packet from Jamie, but I hadn't realized it was being used to find me a suitable partner. "Who knows," I decide, starting to feel hopeful, "maybe this will work."

"Maybe," Syd agrees before suggesting enthusiastically, "Now, let's pick out your wedding gown!"

"Nope," Syd says firmly to the fifth dress.

They have all been stunning, and I am beginning to wonder if he will like any of them. It takes significant effort for me to get into each one, only to have him make a snap and negative decision about it at the first glimpse of it on me. I select another gown from the rack and trudge back through the adjoining door to my room to change.

This one fits like a glove. I can feel how perfect it is before I even glance at the mirror. Feeling nervous that Syd will shoot it down without giving it a fair shot, I open the door.

"Hmm." He lifts a hand to his chin as he studies me. "Let me zip you up all the way." He turns me so he can reach the back. This is farther than any of the previous gowns have gotten with him, and I begin to feel excited that this might truly be the one.

I turn back to face him, and he stands back so I can see the mirror. "Wow," both of us say in unison before beaming at each other.

"I think we've found the one," he reveals. "Who cares what the groom is like when you have a gown like that?" I'm pretty sure he's joking, but the dress is truly beyond gorgeous. "Now get out of it," he orders me. "I'll get rid of the others," he flips a hand toward the dress rack as if they are completely unworthy, "then we can get to work on your makeup. We can't have you getting married with RBF." He smiles to let me know he's teasing about that last part.

Once I return in the plush creamy colored robe I discovered in my room, Syd carefully hangs and fusses over the dress that will be my wedding gown. I am pleased to find he has placed undergarments and shoes near the dressing table. Walking over to try one of the shoes, he snaps at me before I can slide it on my foot. "You are not even thinking about putting a bare foot into those shoes, are you, Darling?"

"Of course not," I respond, quickly changing my mind. Deciding that I don't know how long I'll be forced to stand around in them, I ask, "Shouldn't I make sure they fit?"

Syd seems completely taken aback and offended by my question. "They'll fit," he replies firmly and rather cockily, and that is the end of that discussion.

Seeing no choice but to take his word for it, I walk back over and plop into the make-up chair. Syd has me turn to face him. "No peeking at the work in process. You'll get the big reveal once I've made you dazzling from head to toe."

He is not kidding about that. After rubbing the most luxurious and delectably scented cream onto my hands and feet, he polishes my nails a shimmering pale pink. Opting to trust him, I relax and let him work to combat my RBF.

He tweezes, powders, rouges, curls, buffs, and puffs me for what seems like an inordinate amount of time. After eventually proclaiming me to be "finis," he orders me to the adjoining room to get dressed.

The white, lacy panties and strapless bra are much sexier than the undergarments I normally wear, but I don them without complaint. It is my wedding day, after all. Just the thought of this makes my stomach churn with nerves.
Am I making a ginormous mistake? How can I marry someone I haven't ever even laid eyes on?

Someone knocks on the hallway door, yelling, "Fifteen minutes!" The announcement startles me out of my rumination, and I quickly step into the beaded gown. Squeezing my arms down to hold the dress in place, I return to Syd's side to have him zip me into it.

He busies himself situating the dress, pinning my tiara veil into place, and giving my tresses a final spray. Bringing my shoes over and setting them in front of me, he steadies me as I slip my feet into them. "Perfect," I admit, and he gives me a knowing grin.

"Never had any doubt," he says rather arrogantly before softening it with, "I'm very good at my job." He bends down to kiss me sweetly on the cheek before excitedly proclaiming, "Now for the best part!"

After punching some numbers into the room's squatty safe, he stands to present me with a slender box. Flipping it open dramatically, he says "Ta-da!"

My breath catches in surprise. "Is that thing real?" I ask, gazing at the gorgeous necklace. It features a large heart-shaped sapphire in the middle of numerous sparkling diamonds.

He nods in answer before adding, "Please don't throw it into the ocean like that batty old bitty on the movie Titanic."

"I would never," I reassure him as he gently clasps the beautiful bauble around my neck.

"Gorgeous," he proclaims as he stands back to get a good look at me. "Okay, the dress is something new, the necklace is borrowed and blue..." He is making check marks in the air with his finger. "We just need something old." His eyes travel around the room as he taps his chin in thought.

I am touched that he is trying so hard to make my wedding perfect––all the way down to complying with an old adage that is more than likely just a silly wives' tale.

Deciding to join in the fun, I announce, "I have the perfect thing." Swishing into my room, I search my drawers until I find it. Returning to Syd, I hold up Baggy's delicate handkerchief. "It's my grandmother's," I tell him. "She gave it to me for good luck." I don't bother to tell him that knowing Baggy, it's probably something she picked up at a Dollar Store rather than a family heirloom.

"Perfect," he decides, nodding, before ushering me over to the bathroom door. He swishes the door open dramatically, and I am presented with a full-length mirror.

"Wow!" I am stunned by the first look at my reflection. Syd has subtly accentuated my features and somehow made my skin appear flawless. I turn my head from side to side, gazing at my likeness. This is by far the best I have ever looked, and I am incredibly grateful to him. "I'm a beautiful bride," I gush.

"Indeed you are," Syd confirms, smiling warmly. When my eyes start to mist, threatening to spill tears, he changes his tune quickly. "No crying and messing up my masterpiece," he orders firmly. At my nod of understanding, he adds, "Now, let's go meet your groom."