The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of amber and violet as the Royal Princess glided toward Ontdale Harbor. Guests lined the railings, their laughter mingling with the rhythmic crash of waves. Among them, one woman stood out like a flame in the dark.
Draped in a crimson silk gown that shimmered like molten lava under the deck lights, Isabella Sinclair commanded attention. The fabric hugged her curves, accentuating her slender waist and the endless stretch of her toned legs. Her raven hair was pinned into an elegant chignon, and her lips—painted the same bold scarlet as her dress—curved into a smirk. Pearl earrings dangled delicately, the only whisper of luxury she needed.
Olivia Montgomery let out a low whistle. “Well, well, look who’s back. The infamous Scarlet Serpent in all her glory!” She grinned, nudging Isabella. “Three years dressed like a convent reject? What a waste!”
The name Scarlet Serpent had once been Isabella’s alias, a title earned through missions where she wielded beauty like a blade. Back then, she reveled in the power of her allure.
But Ethan Blackwood had shattered that. He’d sneered at her style, called it garish, demanded she mimic Sophia Kensington’s demure elegance. And like a fool, she’d obeyed—swapping her crimson for ivory, trading confidence for submission. She’d played the perfect wife, the perfect daughter-in-law.
And still, the Blackwoods had discarded her.
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “You’re right, Olivia,” she murmured, swirling the wine in her glass. “Time to stop pretending.”
She didn’t notice the sleek black car pulling into the port. Didn’t see Ethan stepping onto the dock, his arm linked with Sophia’s.
Victoria Chamberlain rushed forward, her sycophantic smile gleaming. “Miss Kensington! Mr. Blackwood has been desperate for your arrival. He’s planned something special for you tonight.”
Sophia shook her head, feigning modesty. “Ethan, you shouldn’t have gone to such trouble. People will talk.”
He squeezed her hand. “Let them. I’m divorced now. No one’s business but ours.”
As the ship’s grand ballroom filled with guests, Isabella and Olivia slipped through the crowd to the third deck. The space was a glittering jewel—chandeliers dripping with crystals, a live band playing something sultry and slow. Bodies swayed, drinks clinked, and the air hummed with reckless energy.
Olivia pressed a key card into Isabella’s palm. “Eight of the finest male escorts onboard. All vetted, all very eager.” She winked.
Isabella arched a brow. “I thought we were here to find that perfumer, not audition a harem.”
“Relax. My people are watching the Charisma Company guests. You’ve got an hour to kill.” Olivia’s gaze snagged on a tall, dark-haired man across the room. “Speaking of killing time…”
Isabella rolled her eyes as Olivia sauntered off, the man’s smirk already locked onto her. Tucking the key card into her clutch, she sighed. “I’ll be by the starboard deck.”
She wasn’t in the mood for games. Ordering a tequila, she escaped to the quieter side of the ship, where the ocean stretched endlessly under the moonlight.
Peace.
Or so she thought.
“Hey, gorgeous. Drinking alone?”
The voice was slimy, the man slimmer. His gold chains jingled with every step, rings flashing like cheap disco lights. He leaned in, whiskey breath hot on her neck. “My boys and I could keep you company. For the right price.”
Isabella didn’t even blink.
Crack.
His wrist bent at an unnatural angle before he even registered her movement. Pain exploded a second later. He staggered back, howling. “You bitch—!”
She sipped her drink. “Leave. Now.”
Rage twisted his face. He grabbed a broken bottle, lunging—
