Chapter 17: The Runabout

RAYA

I left the Galleria two hours later, the backseat of Xavier's private Maybach filled to the brim with glossy, high-end shopping bags. For the first time in my life, I hadn't looked at a single price tag or felt the cold weight of guilt settling into my chest.

When Ken carried the haul up to the suite, setting the boxes along the entryway wall, I kicked off my shoes and sank into the plush living room sofa. My feet were aching, my hair was a wild, windblown mess from the rides at Sentosa, and I couldn't stop the small, ridiculous smile pulling at my lips.

I had actually had fun. Real, unscripted fun.

The suite door chimed, and Xavier walked in.

He was unbuttoning his suit jacket, tossing it over the back of an armchair before his eyes swept across the room, taking in the mountain of shopping bags before landing on me.

"Looks like you took my text literally," he said, his voice low and dry as he unknotted his dark tie.

"I did," I admitted, leaning my head back against the cushions and looking up at him. "I went to Sentosa first. Rode three roller coasters back-to-back, ate street food out of a paper bag, and then cleared out a boutique." I paused, looking at him genuinely. "I can't remember the last time I just played. I was completely bracing myself for a miserable day alone, so, thank you, Xavier. Really. It was amazing."

Xavier paused, his fingers still resting at his open collar. A rare, subtle softness touched his expression, his dark eyes locking onto mine for a quiet second.

"I'm glad you had a good day, Raya," he said softly. Then, the familiar, sharp edge returned to his tone as he unbuttoned his cuffs. "Now get changed."

I blinked, my smile faltering. "What? Right now? I literally just sat down."

"Ten minutes," he said, setting his watch on the marble counter. "Wear something comfortable. No heels, no formal dresses."

"Xavier, is something wrong? Did an investor call back?"

"Nothing's wrong," he replied over his shoulder, heading toward his room. "We're going out."

Ten minutes later, I stepped back into the living room wearing a soft linen sun-dress and flat leather sandals, my hair pulled back casually.

Xavier was already waiting by the door, and the sight of him made me stop short.

I had never seen him in anything other than bespoke, heavy-structured suits designed to make him look like a wall of corporate authority. Now, he was wearing a simple, high-grade white crewneck shirt, relaxed stone-colored trousers, and dark loafers, no socks, no watch, his dark hair slightly messier than usual. The laid-back, old-money look made him seem broader, taller, and dangerously approachable.

"Better," he said, taking in the dress with a swift, unreadable glance before opening the door.

"Where are we going?" I asked, following him down the private elevator corridor. "You said you had back-to-back meetings all evening."

"I rescheduled."

"You rescheduled international investors?"

"They can wait until morning."

A private car dropped us off not at a restaurant or an office tower, but at the quiet Marina Bay docks. The city skyline was already lighting up against the dark blue water, casting shimmering gold and purple reflections across the bay.

Waiting at the end of the wooden pier was a sleek, fifty-foot private yacht, its warm deck lights gleaming against the dark water. A small, intimate dining table was set near the stern, covered in white linen, candles flickering under small glass shades.

Xavier offered his hand to steady me as I stepped over the gap onto the polished teak deck. His grip was warm, solid, and held just a second longer than necessary before he let go.

"Xavier." I looked around the empty deck, the quiet hum of the engine the only sound around us. "What is all this?"

"Dinner." He pulled out a chair for me at the table.

"You planned a private boat cruise?" I sat down, leaning back as the vessel pulled smoothly away from the dock into the open water. "I thought you were completely consumed with Locke Holdings' Singapore expansion."

He sat down across from me, the soft sea breeze rustling his shirt. The server poured two glasses of white wine, set down a platter of fresh seafood, and discreetly retreated toward the lower cabin, leaving the two of us completely alone on the open deck.

"I am," Xavier said evenly, picking up his glass. "But you've been dragging yourself through court filings, media leaks, and my schedules for three weeks. Leaving you stuck in a hotel room this entire trip, six thousand miles from home, seemed like an inefficient use of it."

"Inefficient?" I let out a soft, genuine laugh, shaking my head as the boat glided past the glowing Marina Bay Sands towers. "You booked a private yacht because staying in a luxury hotel was inefficient?"

"You said yesterday you wanted to see the city," he noted, his dark eyes fixed on me over his glass. "Consider this seeing the city."

"It's incredible," I admitted softly, looking out at the endless sweep of lights dancing across the water. The cool night air hit my face, carrying the scent of salt and warm tropical air. "I've never done anything like this before. Today, all of it. I'm usually trapped in a room being told what to do."

"You're not trapped anymore, Raya." His voice was low, cutting through the ambient sound of the water against the hull. "Get used to it."

We ate slowly, the conversation drifting easily from the food to the skyline, completely stripped of the heavy tension that usually hung over us. Without the suits and the boardrooms, the space between us felt lighter, almost intimate.

When dinner wrapped, Xavier stood up and motioned toward the bow of the boat, where a small, open-topped luxury tender, a sleek, high-speed runabout, was moored to the side.

"Come on," he said.

"On that?" I looked at the smaller boat bobbing against the swell. "Where's the crew?"

"I don't need a crew for a runabout," Xavier said, stepping down into the small craft with practiced ease and reaching a hand back up to me. "Unless you're scared of a little speed."

"I'm not scared of anything," I said, taking his hand and stepping down into the passenger seat.

The moment I was seated, he untied the line, took the wheel, and opened the throttle.

The small boat surged forward into the open bay, the wind catching my hair instantly and tearing it loose from its clip. Water sprayed in fine, cool mists around us as the lights of Singapore blurred into long ribbons of gold and silver along the coastline.

I threw my head back, laughing out loud as the sheer speed hit us. Beside me, Xavier handled the wheel with one hand, his face relaxed, a rare, genuine spark of satisfaction in his eyes as he watched me take in the night air.

Half an hour later, he slowed the engine, steering the boat onto a quiet, private stretch of beach along a secluded cove. The water was shallow, clear, and warm against the dark sand.

I kicked off my sandals immediately, stepping out onto the wet sand, the gentle tide washing over my ankles. The city was a distant hum across the water now, leaving just the quiet rhythm of the waves.

"Look at these," I said, bending down to pick up a small, smooth seashell, turning it over in the starlight. "I used to read about beaches like this when I was a kid. My stepfather always said traveling was a waste of money unless there was a contract attached to it."

Xavier walked up beside me, his hands shoved casually into his pockets, his loafers abandoned back on the boat. "Your stepfather is an idiot."

I smiled, tossing the shell back into the water. The tide rolled in, splashing over my knees. Without thinking, caught up in the freedom of the moment, I scooped up a palmful of ocean water and splashed it straight onto his white shirt.

The dark water soaked through the fabric instantly, clinging to his chest.

The moment the water hit him, I froze.

My heart did a sudden, violent drop into my stomach. The lingering fear from my past, the strict rules, the sharp reprimands for acting out of line, surged back for a split second. My smile faded, and I took a small step back, my hands dropping to my sides.

"I... I'm sorry," I stammered quickly, my throat tightening. "I didn't mean to—"

Xavier stood completely still, looking down at the dark, wet patch on his chest, then slowly looked up at me.

For a long, agonizing second, his face was unreadable. Then, the rigid line of his shoulders visibly relaxed. The harshness in his eyes melted into a warm, heavy ember, a small, dangerous curve touching the corner of his mouth.

"You have about three seconds to start running, Raya," he said, his voice a low, dark rumble over the sound of the waves. "Or you're going into the water headfirst."

I stared at him, my heart slamming against my ribs, not out of fear, but out of something wild, bright, and completely uncontainable.

I turned and sprinted down the beach.