Everyone around the table nodded and started to get up and disperse. Julo came over to clear the table, and I instinctively started helping him.
“Cal,” Worth said softly so only I could hear him. “Let Julo do it, please. That’s what he’s here for.”
I glanced between him and the chef. Julo winked at me and said, “He’s right. If you cleaned up your own plates, I’d have to go back to working at the Blue Turtle and wearing a uniform. I think it’s much better here if you don’t mind.”
He laughed again while he cleaned up. He wore black shorts and a red tank top that looked amazing against his dark brown skin. Clearly there was no strict dress code to work on the Worthington. It surprised me, honestly. I would have thought a rich guy like Worth would want everyone dressed just so.
While Worth had his back to me, thanking Julo again for breakfast, Pres grabbed my arm and tried pulling me out onto the deck. Thankfully, my foot caught the leg of a nearby dining chair, making a sound loud enough to get Worth’s attention.
“What are you doing?” he asked in a voice loud enough to make Pres tighten his hand on my arm. I pulled my arm out of his grip but decided there was no time like the present to try and earn my keep.
“Pres just wanted to show me around a little, I think. You don’t mind, do you?” I tried giving him significant eye contact, since he seemed right on the verge of pulling me away from Prescott.
Worth plastered on an apologetic smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I do, actually. But only because I don’t want to be late for the jeweler. Pres can show you around as soon as we get back, I promise.”
I shrugged and gave Prescott the most genuine look of regret I could manage before stepping closer to Worth. “Sorry, Pres. We’ll see you back here in a bit.”
Worth took my hand and held it firm. I couldn’t decide if it was a grip meant to intimidate me before booting me off his boat or make sure I didn’t run away from this cockamamie scheme we’d—okay, I’d—hatched.
And, honestly, I wasn’t sure which I was hoping for.
6
Worth
When Cal had called me “baby,” I could have easily brushed it off as a friend’s teasing. Maybe roll my eyes and sarcastically reply, “Morning, snookems.” But I hadn’t. I’d spent the entire time in the shower wishing I could do more than sleep chastely next to Cal’s young, fit body. I’d quickly justified my wayward thoughts by realizing my plan to reveal Prescott as a cheater would work better if Pres thought he was getting something of mine.
So when Cal had given me the opening, I’d taken it.
“You know I don’t have much money, right?” Cal whispered as we climbed aboard the tender to take us to the marina. “I mean, on me. I only have what I took to the club that night. Everything else is back on St. Mitz, including my passport. And, well, that would also mean that I can’t… I can’t, um, travel from here back to St. Mitz with anyone who might need to see a passport since I don’t have one, and it’s not that I don’t respect your need to get rid of me as soon as possible, I do. I really do. I shouldn’t have said what I did, but I’d really appreciate it if I didn’t end up in a Turshall jail cell because—”
“Stop,” I said calmly, glancing up at the captain, who was patiently waiting to run us over to the island. “Take a breath.”
I realized Cal hadn’t met our captain yet, so I took the opportunity to introduce them. “Cal, this is Captain Vincent Clarke. Vin, this is Cal Wilde. He’s a licensed captain himself, so if you find you need an extra pair of hands this week, he’s more than willing to step in.”
Cal looked between me and Vin, realizing from my words that I wasn’t getting ready to throw him overboard. He finally took a breath and smiled at Vin. “Nice to meet you. Worth is right. I’m happy to help, and I love to work.”
Vin’s rare smile glinted against his dark skin. “As if I’d put a friend of Mr. Worthington’s to work. Welcome aboard.”
Cal immediately began asking him questions about where he was from, and when he learned Vin was from Barbados, he praised something called a ham cutter and off the two of them went on a conversation about their favorite foods from around the Caribbean.
It wasn’t a surprise to hear Cal having such an easy time meeting and talking to new people, but I still envied it. Both my father and grandfather had been stoic men who’d cautioned me regularly about trusting strangers. They’d conveyed story after story of instances where people had attempted to use them for handouts or manipulate them in business dealings. Even knowing all of this, my father had been taken advantage of by four different wives, my mother included. I guessed the advice had only applied to men.