“I wanted to invite you on my boat for a few days.”
“Oh, that would be fantastic,” she said. “But hang on.” She had suddenly realizing something. “I don't know if my security will allow me to travel to Russia and get on a boat before they have checked it out thoroughly.”
“That's a good point. I didn't think of that. I suppose you have far more security than me. After all, you are the president's daughter. I'm just the son of an ambassador.”
“It's a perfect pain in the butt, all this bodyguard stuff. I can't move without someone watching me.”
“I tell you what: I'll charter a yacht in the US, and we will sail along the Eastern Seaboard. Your security will be able to follow at a discreet distance, and they'll be much more accommodating of the idea if you are in the US.”
“That would certainly help. Oh, I'll really look forward to that. Thank you for asking me. I took a boring exam today, and I'm not sure if I passed, so you have brightened up my day to no end.”
“Who needs stupid exams? You can sit on the boat and write your first novel while I sail us around. That sounds idyllic, doesn't it?”
“Yes, it does. How cruel reality is.”
*****
Octavia stood on the quay at the New York Yacht Club and watched Slava carry her bags on deck. “It looks like you chartered a floating palace,” she commented.
“She's a sixty-five-foot motor cruiser. Six bedrooms and more than enough luxury,” he shouted as he walked up the gangplank. The harbor was full of expensive boats, but it seemed Slava had managed to get his hands on the largest of them. Octavia watched him. His legs were long and thin in his white jeans. He was wearing a blue shirt that made him look every bit the sailor. His boat shoes were navy with white souls.
“Why do women always need so many clothes?” he asked as he came back for the final two bags. “You're going to be wearing shorts most of the time or swimwear. But I hope you didn't forget your cocktail dress,” he joked.
“I know it seems like a lot, but you never know who we will bump into when we put into harbor. I am a terribly important woman, don't forget,” she jested.
“What makes you think we'll put into a harbor? Maybe I'll turn into a horrible pirate and keep you hostage on the high seas.”
“I couldn't think of anything better,” she quipped, “but I think my bodyguard may have something to say about it.”
Slava looked at her and smiled. When she smiled back, there was a moment—a moment when they knew what was going to happen on the yacht and were looking forward to it.
“Has my bodyguard spoken to you?” she asked.
“Yes. He's briefed me. We are to stay in US waters, and we're not to exceed twenty knots so he can easily keep us in his sights.”
“Okay. Then when are we leaving?”
“As soon as I have put your extensive baggage into your bunk.”
An hour later, Octavia was standing at the bow of the boat as they set off. It was a beautiful day without much wind. Octavia hadn't done much sailing in her life, and she was slightly apprehensive about being sea sick. She'd put on a pair of white shorts and a pink blouse. Her hair was tied in a ponytail, and she'd added just the minimum amount of makeup. As Slava looked down at her from the bridge, he felt something he never had before. It was a fluttering feeling that burned right to his core.
When they left the harbor, the yacht began to sway gently. Octavia was perfectly at ease, and she sat down, tossed her head back, and looked at the summer sky. Her thoughts began to wander to Slava. She liked him more than any man she had ever dated, she thought. He was handsome and charming, and she was convinced she was about to find out how good a lover he was. She knew her parents wouldn't approve if anything came of their relationship. They wanted her to marry an all-American boy, preferably one with a political career ahead of him.
“Hey, come up here and keep me company,” Slava shouted when he saw Octavia lay down. “You don't think I'm going to stay here and drive all the time without having the benefit of your company, do you?”
She laughed and got up. She walked up the narrow staircase and onto the bridge. There were hundreds of dials and a few screens on a huge dashboard in front of Slava, but she didn't know the faintest thing about how any of them worked. Slava was sitting in the captain's chair. In front of him was a wheel and what seemed to be a lever that made the boat go faster or slower.
“Come here,” he said as he jumped out of the chair. “Sit here and take over.”
“I can't possibly do that,” she said.
“Nonsense. You can drive a car, can't you?”
“Yes, but...”