Page 1 of Below the Deck

PROLOGUE

10 JUNE

It is dark and quiet on the spiral staircase leading her towards the yacht’s underbelly. There are no bright lights from above to guide her down the steps below deck: only low, muted beams from the emergency floor panels guide her path. No peals of laughter or quieter chatter reach her ears from the decks above.

This feels wrong.

The urge to flee the boat and everyone on it rises, hot and desperate. She needs to get back to the safety of her cabin.

She is halfway down the staircase when she hears it. A thud; then, as she reaches the bottom of the steps and begins to creep along the dim passageway, a low, strangled moan.

It is coming from somewhere close by. It’s reaching her through the door in front of her with its rectangular gold nameplate that reads:Master Stateroom.

She switches on the torch on her phone and holds it up as she steps towards the door and touches the handle. The door opens without effort. She walks inside to this, the largest ofthe cabins: a luxurious suite with thick carpet, a king-sized bed, a sofa adorned with fat cushions.

Everything is as it should be.

Everything except for that godawful noise.

It’s coming from the en-suite bathroom. And it’s louder now, the sound, as her feet walk her closer.

She reaches the bathroom door, pushes it open, looks inside, and …

There he is.The man she both despises and is desperate for.

His back is facing her; he doesn’t know she’s there. He hasn’t heard her yet, and he can’t see her in the gloom. She hides the torch behind her back and stands frozen for a heartbeat, then her mind leaps into action: she has to do something, she needs to stop him –now. She creeps back into the cabin to grab at something – anything – she can use to arm herself; then she moves back towards the bathroom, raises her weapon high.

She falters. Now that she is here, so near him, she is full of dread that his gaze might fix her one last time – that he might catch sight of her at this exact moment, sayingyou’ll never be free of me, never– that he might reach for her, try to clasp thick fingers around her neck and drag her with him to hell, to wherever she hopes he will soon be going.

Please don’t let him see me, please don’t let him see me, please don’t let him—

She breathes too loudly.

He swivels to face her.

ELENI

7 JUNE

Eleni pushed her shades back onto the crown of her head and waited for her eyes to adjust to the fierce South Pacific sun. TheLusso di Mareshimmered in front of her, glints of sunlight reflecting from its gleaming hull, its dazzling white a striking contrast to the vivid turquoise-blue of the ocean’s surface.

‘Holy shit!’ she blurted, then clamped a hand to her mouth.Remember where you are – and who you’re with.

This superyacht was the location of Ashworth Property Partners’ famous incentive scheme for 2026. It was one of her favourite things about the firm she’d worked at for more than eight years now: instead of handing out annual bonuses, the three top performers across the company won a luxury trip to a glamorous destination. She could recall the words in the email they’d received six months ago from their CEO, Rory, like she’d read them yesterday:I am thrilled to announce that the three top performers from across the business will come sailing with me on a stunning superyacht around French Polynesia next June …

‘Meets your standards, does it?’ said Rory, giving her a wink.

Eleni grimaced. ‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘Sorry, I can’t help myself sometimes. This is just … incredible!’

‘Glad to hear it. Nothing’s too good for our top land-buying lady, isn’t that right?’ he said, reaching over to give Eleni a pat on the shoulder.

Eleni dug out her phone and, giggling like a schoolgirl, started snapping photos. Running along the superyacht’s pearl white hull was a sleek, champagne-gold strip at the waterline, which tapered off at the front – thebow. It had four decks – the lower one sitting below the ocean’s surface, then three above it, all the same pure white with gold trim.

She glanced at her five companions for the next few days – the people she’d be casuallyhanging out on a superyachtwith – in addition to her husband, Nick. With just under two hundred employees at Ashworth, she didn’t know the others – except Rory – that well. Eleni barely socialized with her colleagues – she hardly saw heractualfriends these days, not for lack of trying. There was just never a good time.

Rory wiped the sweat from his balding temples and waved the collar of his salmon pink polo shirt back and forth in the fierce heat. He was smiling from ear to ear and trying to catch everyone else’s eyes, bursting with pride. His company had paid for this – he’d made this happen.The hero of the day.

Talia, his wife, stood next to him, right hand resting in the crook of Rory’s elbow, Gucci sunglasses covering half her face, long black hair set in bouncy curls that settled around her shoulders. She wore an elegant cream jumpsuit that Eleni couldn’t believe had just survived a twenty-hour journey, evenin business class. At Eleni’s murmur of profanity, Talia had lifted her shades and raised her eyebrows in her direction; there was a slight scrunch to her nose.