Erica Sinclair - Sea Dream (M/F)

[Jenny_S]

After her close brush with death through the hand of Tony Maze, Erica Sinclair decides to open a new chapter of her life and goes on a cruise, but soon she realizes that there are human predators aboard.
In Erica’s sixth adventures, the luxurious cruise ship "Sea Dream" becomes the backdrop for a dangerous encounter.

You can find the full story on https://www.wattpad.com/user/JS_writing

[Jenny_S]

Erica Sinclair stands at the railing of the upper deck of the “Sea Dream”, her eyes drifting over the silver-blue waters of the Miami harbor, shimmering like memories just out of reach. The salty breeze tousles her hair, bringing with it a sense of freedom she hasn’t felt in months. She inhales deeply, filling her lungs with the tang of sea air, willing the tension in her shoulders to ease.

The events of the Tony Maze ordeal still linger, surfacing in moments like this when the world is too quiet to distract her. The physical scars on her right shoulder have faded to faint star-shaped lines, but the emotional weight clings stubbornly, like a shadow that refuses to lift.

The cruise was Dr. Matthews’ idea, a gentle nudge during one of their sessions. “Take a break.” she had advised her in a calm but firm voice. “Go somewhere you’ve never been. You need time away from the city, from the past.” Erica had resisted at first, always feeling that the solution lay in pushing forward, in taking control. But Dr. Matthews, the therapist she decided to see after what went down in that warehouse, was right - about so many things.

At first, Erica had been tortured by nightmares almost every night. Those dreams took her back to the dark warehouse and made her look again at her friend Andrea Santos whom Maze had kidnapped to force Erica to come to him. Clear as daylight she could see Andrea, helpless, sitting on an old chair, hands tied behind her back, her ankles bound, a bulky gag in her mouth, staring at her with reddened eyes, her face smeared with tears and dirt. Those eyes…pleading…
Erica vigorously shakes her head as if willing herself to forget those grim images.

As the gentle sway of the ship rocks beneath her, Erica reaches up and touches her right shoulder, where she sometimes feels a dull, familiar ache. It’s a distant echo of the bullet that tore through her in that dim warehouse. That small pang has become part of her life now, a reminder of how fragile everything can be.

Her father used to talk about his own scars, his voice deep with the authority of experience. “Pain is a teacher.” he would say, recalling the bullet wound that has dogged him since his days in Vietnam. “It reminds you that you’re alive, and it gives you the strength to carry on.” Erica never fully understood those words - until now.

When the twinge sparks in her shoulder, she hears his voice again, an echo from the past wrapping around her like armor. “Pain is a teacher.” It’s an old lesson, but now it feels personal, etched into her bones alongside the ache.

She glances down at her Rolex dive watch, its polished surface catching the sunlight. The weight of it on her wrist feels reassuring, grounding. Her father gifted it to her upon her graduation from Harvard Law School, and it still carries the warmth of his presence – and more. His lessons, hard- earned and quietly shared, have shaped her into who she is - a survivor, yes, but also someone learning to live again after coming so close to her death. Now she is learning to let go.

In the polished chrome surface of the bulkhead behind her, Erica catches a glimpse of herself. The woman staring back is familiar but different - someone changed by experience, carrying the weight of scars both visible and invisible. She is healing, but the process is slow, uneven, like the ebb and flow of the tide.

The “Sea Dream” is more than just a luxury escape. It’s a chance for something new, a canvas on which to paint fresh memories, untouched by the shadows of her past. The sun, now sinking lower on the horizon, casts a warm, golden light over the deck, and for the first time in what feels like forever, Erica feels the faint stirrings of peace. A promise whispered in the rhythm of the waves - a promise that, while the past will always be a part of her, won’t define her.

She smiles softly to herself, turning away from the railing as the ship's engines hum beneath her feet. Walking across the deck, she feels lighter, as if the weight of the past has loosened its grip just enough for her to breathe again.

[Caesar73]

A fine entry. It sets the stage nicely. In an environment we didn´t see Erica before. Her Therapist has given good Advice: Sometimes a change of Scenery helps to deal with traumatic Experiences. And traumatic they were. So Erica is now on a Voyage to Shores unknown. Literally and metaphorically.

[Jenny_S]

Dear @Caesar73 Yes, she is. And knowing her, things might not go as planned...

[Jenny_S]

The warmth of the Miami sun is soothing as it washes over her skin, the vibrant cityscape of pastel art deco buildings behind her. She flew in this morning, and the flight was uneventful, just as she had hoped. Claire Messner, her assistant at Sinclair & Associates, volunteered to look after Spot and Tiger, sending her a reassuring text message just before takeoff: “The kittens are in good hands, don’t worry. I’ll send you pictures daily.” Claire knows Erica well enough to understand that the promise of keeping her updated on her “babies” is the only way Erica would have agreed to leave New York for even a short while.

Now, standing here, gazing at the massive ship she’s about to call home for the next ten days, Erica feels a mix of nervous anticipation.

The “Sea Dream” is nothing short of breathtaking - a gleaming white, floating palace stretching over 1,000 feet, with sleek lines and balconies as far as the eye can see. Built for World Cruises, it boasts twelve decks of luxury. There are glass elevators, infinity pools, and promenades with views that overlook the endless blue horizon. The ship feels more like a five-star hotel than anything that could sail. As she steps onto the deck, the soft hum of the engines beneath her feet is a subtle reminder that this floating city is about to take her far from the burdens of her past.

But even in this moment of escape, flashes of that warehouse creep into her thoughts. The dim lights flickering on, Andrea tied to a chair, the cold muzzle of Tony Maze’s gun, the echo of gunfire ricocheting off the empty walls. She relives that moment countless times in her nightmares - the sickening thud of the bullet hitting her shoulder, the overwhelming fear that she wouldn’t be fast enough to save her friend. Dr. Matthews tells her that trauma has a way of embedding itself in your mind, surfacing when you least expect it. The cruise is supposed to be an escape from that.

A deep breath steadies her. That part of her life is over. Maze is gone. Andrea is safe. She herself is safe. “This is your time now.” she reminds herself.

Erica straightens her posture, adjusting the strap of the stylish leather bag slung over her left shoulder. Her wardrobe is simple today: white linen pants, a navy-blue sleeveless blouse, brown leather moccasins, her ever-trusted aviator-style sunglasses. Practical, but elegant. Of course, she'd never go anywhere without her Rolex dive watch and her university class ring, both parts of her.
She’s determined to enjoy this vacation, even if there’s a small part of her that still feels the need to scan her surroundings.

The boarding process was smooth, the staff efficient, welcoming her aboard with a glass of champagne. A concierge escorts her to her suite on Deck 9 which is simply incredible. The moment she steps into the room, she is floored by the sheer space. It feels like stepping into a high-end boutique hotel room rather than a cabin on a cruise ship. The king-size bed is plush and inviting, flanked by a sitting area and floor-to-ceiling sliding glass doors that open onto a generous terrace with unobstructed views of the ocean. The scent of the sea drifts in, mixing with the clean, fresh scent of the suite, and for the first time in months, Erica feels like she can truly breathe.

The bathroom is a personal spa, with dual sinks, a rainfall shower, and a deep soaking tub that overlooks the water. She can already imagine herself unwinding there, watching the waves roll by. The technology impresses her too - everything is at her fingertips. With a simple swipe on the “Sea Dream” app, she can control the shades, adjust the lighting, and set the perfect temperature for her suite. At 319 square feet, it’s larger than some hotel rooms she’s stayed in.

Now, standing by the railing, she allows herself to soak in the atmosphere. The deck around her is lively with fellow passengers, many of whom are dressed in their resort best - sun hats, floral prints, and brightly colored swimwear, ready for an afternoon of relaxation or exploration. A group nearby is taking selfies with the Miami skyline as their backdrop, laughter filling the air. The world is moving on, and Erica feels like maybe, just maybe, she can move on too.

Her phone buzzes in her bag. Claire. A smile tugs at Erica’s lips as she pulls out the phone and opens the photo message - there they are, Spot and Tiger, lounging on her bed as if they own the place. She can’t help but smile. They seem so content, so blissfully unaware of the dangers their "Mommy" faced.

Just then, the ship’s horn sounds, a deep and resonant bellow that marks the beginning of their voyage. The “Sea Dream” slowly pulls away from the pier, the shimmering waters of the harbor parting as the ship embarks on its journey. The horizon beckons with the promise of calm seas, new adventures, and perhaps something Dr Matthews said Erica needs - closure.

For now, she feels the weight of the city and its memories slip away, replaced by the rhythmic sway of the ship beneath her. She’s ready for this, or at least she’s willing to try.

As the “Sea Dream” sails into the open waters, Erica takes a deep breath of the salty air, determined to leave behind her haunted past and embrace whatever this new adventure has in store.

[Caesar73]

Dear @Caesar73 Yes, she is. And knowing her, things might not go as planned...

And for that we love her!

[Jenny_S]

Dear @Caesar73 Thank you for your unwavering support. This means a lot to me.

[Jenny_S]

Erica spends the afternoon wandering the Sea Dream, her mind still adjusting to the idea of finally being free - at least for now - from the dark cloud of the past few months. Following the “Sea Dream” app on her phone, she navigates the ship’s vast offerings, her curiosity piqued by the scope and luxury surrounding her.

The ship’s typical guests generally seem to be older couples, their average age somewhere between 55 and 65, a demographic she notices immediately. Here and there, groups of friends or families dot the ship’s lounges and outdoor spaces, but children are sparse. At 35, Erica realizes she is among the younger passengers on board, and it lends her a strange sense of being both out of place and privileged - like she’s been let into a world that’s usually reserved for those who’ve seen and done it all.

As she moves through the ship following the app, Erica marvels at the abundance of choices. With 15 restaurants, five cafes, and 12 bars and lounges, there’s no shortage of food and drink. Every cuisine she could imagine is available, from Mediterranean to Indian, Italian to classic American, and everything in between. But it’s “The Voyage”, a fine-dining restaurant headed by a Michelin- star chef, that truly catches her eye. Reserved for VIP guests - like herself - it’s a lavish three-story venue with panoramic views of the sea. The restaurant’s reputation for impeccable seafood dishes and course-style meals precedes it, and Erica looks forward to the experience later.

The ship’s bars each have their own charm. The “Sunset Bar”, with its open-air decks and beach club vibes, feels like a slice of Mexico or Morocco. It promises breathtaking views of the sunset, and Erica mentally notes that she’ll need to come back for a cocktail there. The “American Bar”, located at the center of the ship, is buzzing with life - its plaza-like layout is ideal for people-watching and catching live entertainment. The “World Cruise Bar”, quieter but no less impressive, wins her over with its craft cocktails, served by true mixologists in a velvet-and-glass chic atmosphere.

Wellness is another cornerstone of the “Sea Dream” experience, and Erica is more than happy to indulge. She spends time exploring the ship’s expansive spa, fitness center, and salon, feeling tempted by the array of massages, facials, and body treatments. Her VIP package grants her access to the “Sea Dream’s” exclusive relaxation spaces, where she can drift between the heated sauna, crystalarium, salt room, and mist aroma room. For someone who’s been on high alert for months, the chance to slow down and soak in serenity feels like a gift.

But there’s more than just relaxation. The ship has two large pools, hot tubs, and even infinity plunge pools scattered throughout. Erica knows that she’ll likely spend some time there tomorrow, but for now, she focuses on exploring more of the ship’s offerings. There’s also a two-story theater that hosts nightly entertainment, from Broadway-style shows to magic performances, and she considers stopping by one of the concerts later in the evening. It truly seems that the price of the voyage is worth every penny.

Before long, it’s time to head back to her suite to freshen up for dinner at “The Voyage”. Her reflection in the mirror shows a woman who’s come a long way - both in distance and in healing. She slips into something less casual, choosing a sleek, understated cocktail dress. It feels good to dress up, to be in a space where people don’t know her history, where she’s not the woman who survived a near-death experience but simply Erica Sinclair, passenger on a luxury cruise.



At dinner, she is seated with a woman who looks to be in her late fifties, possibly early sixties. The woman introduces herself as Evelyn Whitmore, and her elegant, well-preserved appearance gives off a sense of wealth and comfort. Erica politely engages in conversation, though there’s not much she needs to contribute as Evelyn is eager to chat, telling Erica that she’s a widow.

Her husband passed away a few years ago, and since then, Evelyn has practically lived on various cruise ships operated by World Cruises. “It’s better than being home alone.” Evelyn says with a laugh, though there’s a sadness in her eyes that Erica recognizes. They bond over small talk, discussing the ship, the voyage ahead, and their mutual appreciation for the luxury of it all.

As Evelyn speaks, Erica’s mind occasionally drifts, drawn back to flashes of that warehouse, to Tony Maze, to the gunshot that still tingles faintly in her shoulder when the weather shifts. But she pulls herself back to the present, focusing on the here and now - the clink of silverware on china, the soft hum of conversation around her, the gentle sway of the ocean beneath her feet.

For tonight, she decides, she’ll let herself enjoy the present. Let herself savor this escape, even if part of her is still tethered to the past.



The three-course dinner at “The Voyage” is nothing short of spectacular. Each dish is a carefully crafted masterpiece, offering flavors that are as elegant as they are bold. Erica enjoys every bite, feeling a sense of indulgence and satisfaction she hasn't experienced in what feels like forever. The main course, a delicate seared tuna, is followed by a rich chocolate dessert that practically melts on her tongue. The meal is exactly what she needed: a distraction, an escape from her own thoughts.

Evelyn, the widow Erica is dining with, is clearly well-versed in the world of luxury cruises. Between sips of her wine, she regales Erica with stories from her travels, casually name-dropping some of the finest ships and exotic destinations she’s experienced. Despite her wealth and the almost effortless grace with which she carries herself, there’s a sense of quiet loneliness about Evelyn that tugs at Erica’s empathy. She’s lost her husband, and perhaps, in a way, she’s been wandering ever since - finding solace aboard these floating palaces.

“I know it’s your first night, but I’d be happy to show you around.” Evelyn offers with a gentle smile as they finish their meal with a perfect espresso. “There’s a magic show tonight in the “Celestial Theater”. It’s quite a spectacle.”

Erica, not quite ready to retreat to her cabin for the evening and intrigued by the thought of experiencing more of the ship’s entertainment, agrees. “That sounds fun. I could use some magic.” she says with a smile.



The two women leave the restaurant, and Evelyn leads the way to the theater. It’s a grand space - two stories high, with plush seating and an enormous stage framed by velvet curtains. As they settle into their seats, the lights dim, and the room hums with quiet anticipation.

The show begins with a flourish - lights flash, and the magician, a man dressed in an elegant tuxedo, takes the stage to thunderous applause. He starts with classic tricks: levitation, card tricks, and the disappearance of objects. But then, the real spectacle begins. With a dramatic wave of his hands, two full-grown tigers appear on stage, prowling in sleek, controlled movements that seem almost too perfect. Erica’s eyes widen, her curiosity piqued.

“How can they keep tigers on a cruise ship?” she whispers, leaning toward Evelyn.

Evelyn chuckles softly and leans in to reply, her voice barely above a whisper. “They’re not real, darling. They’re holographic illusions. The magic is in the technology.”

Erica raises an eyebrow, her skepticism mixing with awe. "Holograms? They look so real." She can't help but be impressed. It’s amazing what modern technology is capable of, and as the tigers vanish into thin air, leaving only a puff of smoke behind, she feels the tug of wonder that the best magic shows always manage to evoke.

As the performance continues, Erica’s gaze drifts to the table just to Evelyn’s right. Seated there is a man who catches her attention. He looks to be in his early forties, maybe five years older than Erica, with dark hair neatly styled and a confident, clean-cut appearance. He’s well-dressed in a tailored suit, his posture relaxed yet refined. His polite smile is subtle, but the way he raises his glass to Evelyn suggests familiarity. There’s something about the ease of his gesture that piques Erica’s curiosity.

Evelyn notices Erica’s glance and smiles softly. “That’s Nicholas Carlisle.” she says, her voice warm and with a touch of affection. “Nick, to his friends.”

Erica watches as Evelyn raises her glass back to him in a polite acknowledgment. Nick’s gaze briefly flickers toward Erica, and he offers a nod in her direction as well, his smile polite but unreadable. There’s something about him that Erica can’t quite put her finger on. Charming, certainly, but there’s an undertone to him that makes her instinctively more guarded.

“Do you know him well?” Erica asks, keeping her voice casual.

Evelyn shrugs lightly, her eyes lingering on Nick for a moment before she turns back to Erica. “We’ve crossed paths on a few voyages. He’s… attentive. Quite charming, really. He’s been helping me with some financial advice lately.”

Erica’s gaze sharpens ever so slightly. There’s nothing overtly concerning about Nick, but something about the situation feels off. A younger man, charming a wealthy widow with financial advice? It sets off small alarm bells in her mind, ones she’s learned to listen to over the years.

“Sounds like quite the gentleman.” Erica replies, her tone light but with a hint of skepticism.

Evelyn seems to sense the undercurrent of Erica’s words and waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, dear. I’m not some naive fool. I know how to protect myself.”

But still, as the magic show continues, Erica finds her thoughts returning to Nick Carlisle. There’s more to him than meets the eye, and something in her gut tells her that this charming man with the polished smile might not be as straightforward as he seems.

The tigers reappear one final time in a dazzling display of lights, and the show concludes with a standing ovation. As Erica and Evelyn make their way out of the theater, Erica casts one more glance back at Nick Carlisle, her mind already working to piece together who he is - and what he might be after.

[Jenny_S]

As the magic show ends and the theater empties, Evelyn turns to Erica with a smile. "How about a nightcap before we call it a night?" she suggests, her tone warm and inviting. “I’m buying.”

Erica hesitates for a brief moment, but the evening has been pleasant, and a glass of wine sounds like a nice way to cap off the day. “Sure.” she agrees, following Evelyn out of the theater and toward the bar next door. It’s a cozy, elegant lounge with soft lighting, plush seating, and a gleaming bar lined with bottles of every kind. The atmosphere hums with quiet conversation, and the clink of glasses fills the air.

They take a seat at the bar, and Erica glances at the bartender, leaning forward slightly. “Do you have a Nero d’Avola?” she asks, her voice carrying a subtle note of hope. It’s her favorite red wine, one she associates with comfort and relaxation.

The bartender nods. “We certainly do, ma’am.”

Erica smiles in approval, and soon the deep ruby liquid is poured into a crystal glass in front of her. She takes a sip, savoring the bold, fruity flavor that has just the right amount of earthiness. It’s the perfect choice for the end of an exciting but emotionally charged day.

Evelyn, meanwhile, orders a gin martini and immediately launches into another one of her stories. "You know, this one time in Santorini, I got lost on a donkey trail!" she says with a laugh. Erica finds herself smiling, letting Evelyn’s tales of adventure wash over her like a warm tide. The older woman’s life is one of luxury and excitement, full of cruises and grand destinations. It’s a life that, to Erica, feels almost impossibly distant from her own reality - especially the trauma of her recent past.

And yet, in this moment, she’s grateful for Evelyn’s chatter. It’s a welcome distraction from the darker corners of her mind.

For the next half hour, they chat about nothing in particular. Evelyn talks about countries she’s visited, cruises she’s taken, and the people she’s met along the way. Erica, content to listen, sips her wine slowly, feeling the warmth from the alcohol spread through her. The bar is a comfortable place, the soft glow of the lights casting a golden sheen over the polished wood and velvet chairs. The hum of conversations around them creates a peaceful backdrop, and for the first time in what feels like months, Erica feels at ease.

But as the wine begins to take effect, making her feel pleasantly drowsy, Erica knows it’s time to call it a night. She sets her glass down gently and gives Evelyn a tired but appreciative smile. “I think that’s enough excitement for one day.” she says. “It’s been a long one. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Evelyn nods, understanding in her eyes. “Of course, dear. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

As Erica stands up and turns to leave, she instinctively glances back over her shoulder. What she sees makes her pause, her steps faltering for just a second. The man from the magic show - Nick Carlisle - is sidling up to Evelyn, moving smoothly as if he’s been waiting for the exact moment Erica left. He greets Evelyn with a familiar smile, and she reciprocates, clearly unbothered by his presence.

For a brief moment, a warning bell goes off in Erica’s mind. She considers turning around and joining them, maybe making sure everything is alright. But then she catches herself. What business is it of hers? She’s only just met Evelyn, and besides, Evelyn seems more than capable of handling herself.

“Don’t overthink it.” Erica mutters to herself, continuing her walk out of the bar. She pushes any lingering concerns out of her mind. It could easily be a coincidence. After all, on a cruise ship, people are bound to cross paths more than once.




Back in her Sky Suite, Erica slips out of her cocktail dress and hangs it up neatly in the wardrobe. The room is quiet, the ocean beyond the sliding glass doors a vast, endless presence. She cleans up for the night, washing off her makeup and the lingering scent of perfume. Her body feels heavy with the relaxation that comes from a good meal, a good show, and a glass of wine.

She slips into her maroon silk kimono, the cool fabric brushing against her bare skin like a soothing balm. Erica crosses the spacious room and steps out onto her private terrace. The night air is crisp and fresh, filled with the subtle scent of salt and the gentle whisper of the ocean below. She stands there for a moment, breathing in deeply, feeling the night breeze against her skin, and letting the peaceful stillness of the open sea calm her mind.

For a few minutes, she just stands there, gazing out into the endless dark horizon, the sky dotted with stars. There’s something about the vastness of the ocean that makes her feel small, but not in a bad way. It’s humbling. It reminds her that there is so much more to life, so much more beyond the trauma she’s survived.

Satisfied, Erica finally returns to her room, sliding the doors closed behind her. The bed beckons, soft and inviting. She climbs in, the cool sheets wrapping around her as she sinks into the mattress. For the first time in months, she feels a real sense of peace, a calm that settles into her bones.

And as her eyes close, the last thing she thinks is that tonight - finally - there will be no nightmares of Tony Maze, no haunting flashbacks. Just sleep. Deep, dreamless sleep.

Within minutes, she’s drifting away, lost to the gentle rhythm of the ship as it sails through the night.

[LunaDog]

Good to see the forum back, and good to Erica back, in such good form too!

[Jenny_S]

Dear @LunaDog , thank you so much for being one of my most faithful readers.
After she got shot by Tony Maze in the previous story, Erica struggles hard to get back on her feet. Pretending nothing happened didn't work, but maybe this nice, quiet and luxurious cruise will help her start anew.

[Jenny_S]

Even without setting the alarm on her phone, Erica wakes at 5 a.m. sharp. She awakens with a smile - a real, restful smile that she hasn’t felt in a long time. The day ahead feels fresh, full of promise. After a traumatic event and three months of intense therapy, she’s finally feeling lighter.

One thing she is determined to keep up is her fitness regime. Erica’s body craves that morning burst of energy, and she knows the gym will be nearly empty at this hour. Rolling out of bed, she hangs up her maroon silk kimono to air and changes into her favorite workout gear - black running tights, a snug, form-fitting top, and her trusty running shoes. The ship is still quiet, but she loves that silence before the world fully wakes.

Grabbing a fresh towel and her phone, she heads out for the fitness center. The corridors of the “Sea Dream” feel cool, the ship humming with the low, steady rhythm of its engines. Erica is greeted at the gym by a young crew member, his uniform crisp and his smile warm. His name tag reads "Marcus, Physiotherapist." It looks like the cruise line wasn’t exaggerating about the high-end services.

“Good morning, ma’am.” Marcus says with a nod as Erica starts stretching.

“Morning.” she replies, her voice still a little hushed, matching the calm around them.

As she steps onto the treadmill, Erica programs a 5-mile interval run - her standard course, designed to mimic the familiar path of her early morning runs back in New York. The treadmill hums beneath her feet, and she quickly finds her stride. Erica’s muscles loosen, her breath falls into a steady rhythm, and she glances sideways. A couple is working out in the weight area, effortlessly moving through their sets. They're clearly semi pros, encouraging each other with playful nudges to push for one more rep.

She smiles as she runs, a pleasant sense of camaraderie bubbling up. There’s something about being surrounded by like-minded people that makes her feel energized.

Thirty-six minutes and forty-three seconds later, she finishes her run, her legs burning in a satisfying way. As she slows the treadmill to a walk, she wipes the sweat from her brow, catching Marcus's approving look.

“Great time, ma’am.” he says, nodding. “And excellent form.”

“Thanks.” Erica replies, catching her breath with a grin. “Every day, 5 at 5. I’ll be back later for weights.”

“Looking forward to it.” Marcus says, his smile unwavering. “Have a great day!”

Erica feels good - strong, accomplished - as she makes her way back to her suite. Her running clothes go straight into the laundry chute, knowing they'll be picked up, cleaned, and returned neatly folded on her bed by evening. “What a service.” she muses, a little impressed by the ship’s efficiency.

The shower in her suite feels like a sanctuary, especially with that panoramic view of the endless ocean just outside the floor- to- ceiling window. She steps into the rainfall shower, water cascading over her body, and selects the eucalyptus and mint body wash from the dispenser. The fresh, invigorating scent fills the bathroom as she lathers up with a natural sponge. The artificial rain soothes her as it washes away the last remnants of sweat and the exhaustion of the run.

She takes her time, savoring the luxuriousness of it all - this peaceful, quiet moment that she has learned to appreciate even more since the chaos of her last months. After blow-drying her hair and gathering it into a simple ponytail, she applies a touch of light makeup. She slips into a flowy summer dress that hasn’t seen the light of day in over a year or two. The fabric feels soft and feminine against her skin, and the sandals she slides into complete the easy, breezy look - sandals that, honestly, she’d forgotten she even owned.

She puts her class ring on her right ring finger, the one that always reminds her of the lawyer she fought hard to become and secures her watch around her left wrist. The routine is comforting, grounding her.

A soft growl from her stomach signals that it's time for breakfast. Checking her phone, she notices there's no message from Claire yet, but she isn’t worried. Spot and Tiger are in the best hands possible, and she knows Claire will send her a photo soon, probably capturing one of the kittens doing something adorable.

With a smile still lingering on her lips, Erica leaves her suite, excitement bubbling up at the thought of what a Michelin-starred breakfast might look like. She makes her way toward “The Voyage”, her steps light, the anticipation of this new, luxurious chapter of her journey ahead of her.

The day is only just beginning, and Erica feels truly at peace. For the first time in a long while, the weight of the world feels distant - replaced by the soothing sound of the sea and the promise of new experiences.





Erica steps into “The Voyage”, instantly enveloped by the luxurious atmosphere. The scent of fresh bread, sizzling meats, and brewed coffee wafts through the air, all at once familiar and overwhelming. This is no ordinary breakfast experience; the buzz of half a dozen line cooks and sous chefs, preparing made-to-order dishes, is a symphony of culinary precision. Everything here is elevated - the elegance of the décor, the hushed conversations of the VIP guests, and the meticulous attention to detail. Erica takes it all in, a slight feeling of indulgence warming her.

She approaches the buffet, her senses heightened by the sheer variety of delicacies available. Her eyes wander across the spreads of fresh fruits, smoked salmon, imported cheeses, and an array of breakfast meats. One of the line cooks catches her attention as he expertly cracks two eggs onto a griddle. She watches with quiet admiration as the eggs bubble and sizzle, his hands moving with practiced ease as he seasons them with a pinch of salt, pepper, and a sprinkle of finely chopped chives.

“Fried on both sides, just how I like it.” Erica murmurs, smiling as the cook plates the eggs with a precise flick of his wrist. He follows this up by adding a pile of thin, lean turkey strips to her plate.

“Enjoy, ma'am.” the chef says, returning her smile.

“Thanks.” Erica replies, picking up her tray and moving slowly through the dining room. Everything here is a step beyond the quick breakfasts she grabs in her own kitchen in New York - no rush, no stress, just indulgence.

She spots a vacant table by the window and starts toward it when something makes her pause. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches sight of Evelyn Whitmore entering the restaurant, and at her elbow, none other than Nicholas Carlisle. There's something about their presence together that stirs a sense of intrigue in Erica, like she’s witnessing a scene she doesn’t fully understand.

Before she can dwell on it, a friendly female voice interrupts her thoughts. “Can I take your order for something to drink, ma'am?” the server asks with a warm smile.

Erica glances at her name tag - Aynur, a name she doesn’t recognize immediately, and a flag she can't quite place. She’s distracted but tries to focus.

“A cappuccino, please. With two sweeteners and almond milk...or lactose-free milk, if you have it.” Erica says, her words coming automatically. The peculiar fact that she can handle cheese and yogurt but not cow’s milk always crosses her mind in moments like this.

“Coming right up.” Aynur replies, her smile unwavering as she hurries off to fulfill the order.

Erica’s attention shifts back to Evelyn and Carlisle, now at the buffet. She watches them discreetly as they move through the lines, piling food onto their plates. There’s something deliberate in Carlisle’s body language, like he’s subtly guiding Evelyn away from the more populated tables, aiming for a secluded spot where they can talk. It strikes Erica as odd, especially how Carlisle keeps close to Evelyn, as though seeking privacy within the bustling restaurant.

She sits down at her table, her tray settling softly onto the white linen tablecloth. She breaks the yolk of her eggs with her fork, the golden liquid spilling out like molten sunshine, but her thoughts remain elsewhere.

“What a strange guy.” she mutters under her breath, sneaking another glance in their direction. Carlisle is speaking intently to Evelyn, his expression smooth but difficult to read. Evelyn, for her part, looks perfectly at ease, charmed even.

Aynur returns with a tall glass, setting down Erica’s cappuccino with a cheerful “Enjoy your breakfast, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” Erica says, her eyes still flickering over to Evelyn. The two of them - Carlisle and Evelyn - seem absorbed in each other, deep in conversation. Despite their close proximity, there’s a curious distance around them, a bubble of privacy they’ve managed to create amidst the breakfast crowd.

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe Carlisle is just another passenger, maybe even lonely like Evelyn. Erica stirs her coffee absentmindedly, considering the dynamic. “You never know.” she muses, letting the thought drift away as she takes her first sip of the delicious cappuccino.

The morning sun pours through the large windows of the restaurant, casting a soft glow over the room. Erica leans back in her chair, allowing herself a moment of peace. Whatever Evelyn and Carlisle are up to is their business, not hers. She’s here to relax, after all, to put distance between herself and the haunting memories of Tony Maze. And for now, a perfect breakfast and the gentle hum of the ocean seem like the best medicine.

[Jenny_S]

As Erica finishes her breakfast and wipes the corners of her mouth with the napkin, she stands and heads towards the exit. But instead of leaving directly, she takes a detour toward Evelyn’s table. Her steps are confident, though her mind is curious about this Nicholas Carlisle. She hadn’t expected Evelyn to be the type to have a companion so quickly after just meeting her. As she nears, Evelyn looks up with a warm smile.

"Good morning, Evelyn." Erica says, her voice light and friendly.

Evelyn beams, lifting her glass of fresh orange juice. "Good morning, Erica. I trust you slept well?"

"Like a rock." Erica replies, her lips curving into a small smile. "This ship certainly knows how to pamper its guests."

Carlisle, sitting across from Evelyn, watches Erica closely, his gaze slightly narrowing as she speaks. The look is subtle - so subtle that Erica almost misses it. His eyes flicker, unreadable, like a puzzle she can't quite solve. Suspicion? Curiosity? Or maybe it’s just nothing at all. After all, Erica is used to people sizing her up, whether in the courtroom or elsewhere. She nods politely in Carlisle’s direction but doesn’t engage further.

"Enjoy your day." Erica says, directing her smile back at Evelyn. She feels an odd sense of unease at Carlisle's stare but brushes it off, attributing it to her overthinking. With a wave, she leaves the restaurant.

The sun hits her face as she steps out onto the deck, immediately feeling the warmth seeping into her skin. The ship is alive with the gentle hum of guests moving about, the occasional laughter of children playing in the pool below. The endless horizon of the ocean stretches out in front of her, a calming sight that makes her sigh in contentment.

She settles into one of the plush deckchairs, adjusting the soft fabric beneath her and letting the sun drench her body in warmth. As she reclines, her thoughts drift back to the past few months, to the emotional healing she’s undergone, and how far she’s come since that dark night in the warehouse. The trauma is still there, buried deep inside, but moments like these help her feel in control over herself again.

After a while, Erica decides it's time to indulge in something more restorative. She heads toward the wellness area for the massage she booked earlier. The corridors of the ship are sleek and modern, the air cool and scented with cinnamon, a far cry from the bustling life on the upper decks. She checks in with the spa receptionist, who greets her with a serene smile and guides her to a private room.

Inside, soft ambient music plays in the background, and the dim lighting adds to the atmosphere of calm. Erica undresses, folding her clothes neatly before wrapping herself in the oversized towel provided. The towel is warm and comforting, and she feels cocooned in it as she lies down on the massage table.

A few moments later, the masseuse enters - a petite woman of Asian descent with a gentle demeanor and kind eyes. She introduces herself as Mei, her voice soft but confident. Mei’s hands are unexpectedly strong, immediately working with expert precision over Erica’s muscles, loosening knots and tension that Erica didn’t even realize she had.

As Mei’s hands move over Erica’s right shoulder, they pause for a moment. "You’ve had an injury here," she notes, her tone careful.

Erica tenses slightly at the mention of her shoulder, but nods. "Yeah, a bullet wound. It's healed, but I still feel it sometimes."

Mei nods knowingly and adjusts her pressure, being extra gentle on the damaged tissue. "We can help the muscles become more supple over time. The scar tissue causes tightness, but with regular care, it will ease."

"I’d like that." Erica mutters, her voice barely a whisper as she feels herself melt into the table. Mei’s touch is skilled, soothing every ache and pain with precision. Erica sighs deeply, feeling the tension leave her body. "Can’t you just move to New York and do this all the time?"

Mei chuckles softly. "I’m sure I can find you someone just as good back home."

Erica smiles, her eyes closed, enjoying every second of the massage. For the first time in a long while, she feels entirely relaxed - like her body and mind are both at peace. She makes a mental note to follow up on Mei's suggestion once she returns to New York. Maybe investing in regular massages would be a good way to stay grounded.

The rhythmic sound of Mei's hands moving over her back, the scent of essential oils filling the air, and the soft music all combine into a moment of perfect tranquility. The worries of the past months - the trauma, the fear, the lingering doubts - fade into the background as Erica lets herself be fully present in this serene space.

By the time the massage ends, Erica feels like a new person, refreshed and calm. She thanks Mei, wrapping herself back in the towel before heading to the shower in her suite to wash off the oil. She can’t help but smile at the thought of how good this day is shaping up to be.






Feeling weightless after the massage, Erica makes her way to the plaza, savoring the relaxation coursing through her body. As she moves down the long, carpeted hallway towards the elevator, she notices a bounce in her step, an unfamiliar lightness. It feels like she’s gliding, floating almost. Dr. Matthews was right - this cruise is already proving to be a much- needed reset, both mentally and physically. She smiles to herself, pleased with her decision.

The elevator ride is quick, and soon, Erica finds herself strolling past an array of shops. Most of them feature glittering displays of high- end jewelry and watches. Erica, being more practical and not one to splurge on lavish accessories, only casts them a passing glance. But then something makes her pause. Through the glass of one of the jewelry boutiques, she spots Evelyn, her face lit up with joy, and next to her - no surprise - Nicholas Carlisle.

Evelyn is slipping on an exquisite ring, holding her hand up and admiring it, while Carlisle stands nearby, nodding approvingly. For a brief moment, Erica’s instincts kick in. Something about this feels off, but she chides herself almost immediately. She’s on a cruise – here people buy jewelry all the time. Maybe it’s just an extravagant vacation purchase. With a small shrug, she dismisses her thoughts and heads towards the plaza.

The plaza opens up before her, a grand space designed to evoke the charm of a classic American square. Cobblestone walkways wind through it, flanked by small, charming cafés and boutiques. Above, string lights crisscross between wrought-iron lamp posts, casting a warm, golden glow that contrasts beautifully with the deep blue of the sea beyond. Potted plants and manicured trees are spaced strategically, creating a relaxing, leisurely atmosphere. People stroll by at an unhurried pace, chatting and laughing, soaking in the ambiance.

Erica finds a small café with an old-time, streetside aesthetic, complete with black-and-white tiled floors and wrought-iron tables. A server greets her warmly, and she orders an Americano. The server scans her VIP pass, confirming that her drink is complimentary, part of her all-inclusive luxury package. She settles into a cozy table with a view of the entire plaza, the perfect spot for people- watching.

As she waits for her coffee, a group of Mariachi musicians appear from the other end of the square, clad in vibrant, colorful costumes that seem straight out of a postcard version of Mexico. They begin playing upbeat Mexican tunes, their instruments filling the air with cheerful, lively melodies. Erica chuckles softly to herself. It’s clearly not authentic, but it’s the kind of romanticized version of Mexico that tourists love.

Lost in the music, Erica almost doesn’t notice Evelyn walking up to her table until the older woman pulls out a chair and sits down with an exuberant smile. Just as the server places Erica’s coffee in front of her, Evelyn waves her VIP Gold pass and orders, "Two glasses of Champagne, please!"

Evelyn’s hand lands lightly on Erica’s, a gesture that catches her off guard. Normally, Erica isn’t comfortable with uninvited physical touching, especially from someone she barely knows. But with Evelyn, she resists the urge to pull her hand away. There’s something almost motherly in the way Evelyn touches her, and Erica lets it slide.

"Evelyn," Erica begins, noticing the wide grin on the older woman’s face, "you look excited."

Evelyn beams, her eyes sparkling. "Darling, I just got engaged!"

Erica freezes mid-sip of her coffee, eyebrows shooting up. "Engaged? As in…to be married?"

"Yes!" Evelyn claps her hands together, practically glowing with happiness. "Nick proposed! And as soon as we dock, we’re getting married."

Erica stares, trying to process this sudden revelation. Yesterday, Nicholas Carlisle was introduced to her as Evelyn’s financial adviser, and now, less than 24 hours later, he’s her fiancé? It’s all happening so fast, and alarm bells are ringing softly in Erica’s mind. But she tamps them down, reminding herself she’s not one to jump to conclusions.

"Well…congratulations." she finally manages, struggling to sound genuine. She glances down at Evelyn’s hand, which is now adorned with a ring - yellow gold with a sizable diamond that catches the light and gleams like crazy.

"I’d love for you to join us for dinner tonight," Evelyn says, practically bouncing in her seat. "Nick had to step away for a moment - some video conference - but you’ll meet him later. He’s just wonderful."

Before Erica can respond, the server arrives with two delicate crystal flutes of Champagne, placing them gently on the table. Evelyn picks hers up with a wide smile and offers it to Erica.

"To new beginnings." Evelyn toasts, her voice full of hope.

Erica raises her glass and clinks it gently against Evelyn’s. "To new beginnings." she echoes, though a slight unease lingers beneath her words. As they sip, Erica finds herself watching Evelyn closely. There’s a deep sincerity in her joy, but there’s something about all of this that doesn’t sit quite right.

Maybe she’s overthinking. Maybe not.

[Caesar73]

Nicolas Carlisle a new Player in town it seems

Loved the Scene between Erica and Mei in the Massage Saloon.

Erica´s Wish, Mei might work in New York? So she can enjoy her skilled Hands? It is quite understandable.

I like the Pacing of the Narrative. It has a natural flow

[Jenny_S]

Dear @Caesar73 , thanks a lot for your kind words. Hold on, there might be other possible players for Erica to meet aboard Sea Dream.

[Jenny_S]

As they sip their champagne, Erica decides to lean into her curiosity. The bubbly liquid slides down her throat, crisp and elegant, but her mind is already racing with questions she hasn’t asked yet.

"So, how long have you known Nick?" she asks, keeping her tone light and casual, as if it's just small talk.

Evelyn pauses, her smile soft but steady, her eyes drifting upward as she thinks. "Hmm, maybe a year and a half now? Yes, that's right. We met on two cruises. It was one of those funny coincidences where we practically bumped into each other."

Erica nods, pretending to be engaged while a spark of suspicion flickers inside her.

Evelyn continues, her voice brightening as she talks about Nick. "It was such a surprise, really. Nick had just gone through a terrible loss - his wife died in a car accident." Evelyn's voice lowers, as if the tragedy has also touched her deeply. "He was trying to rebuild his life, just like I was. At first, it wasn't romantic at all. We just clicked because we had so much in common. A shared loss, I suppose."

Erica feels a tightness in her chest, her fingers wrapping around the stem of her glass with just a little more force. A bond built on shared grief - it makes sense, but there’s something about the suddenness of their engagement that bothers her.

"And with his job being online, he could work wherever." Evelyn adds, swirling her champagne. "Financial consulting, you know? He manages his clients from his cabin, does meetings over video calls. He even had one just now, which is why he couldn’t stay."

"That’s convenient." Erica says, the words rolling off her tongue as her mind races. "It sounds like he's really found a way to balance work and travel."

Evelyn nods eagerly, her excitement contagious. "Exactly! He’s such a kind man - smart, charming, thoughtful. You’ll really like him, Erica. He’s wonderful."

Erica smiles politely, but something twists inside her. "I’m sure he is." She keeps her voice steady, but she can’t shake the nagging feeling that something about Nicholas Carlisle feels...off. Evelyn’s joy is genuine, but the details of Nick’s perfect timing, their seamless connection, it all feels a little too neat.

Evelyn finishes her champagne and sets the empty flute down, her face glowing with happiness. "I really hope you find someone like him, too, Erica. You deserve that kind of love."

Erica forces another smile, but the comment feels strange. Love is not on her agenda - not on this cruise, and not after everything she’s been through. Yet Evelyn’s words seem to suggest otherwise.

"I'll see you tonight, then?" Evelyn asks as she rises, her energy radiating across the table. "Six PM at the Captain's Table?"

"Absolutely." Erica replies, still smiling. "Thanks for the invitation."

Evelyn beams once more before turning to leave, disappearing into the slow-moving crowd around the plaza. As soon as she’s gone, Erica’s smile fades, and she takes another sip of champagne, her mind swimming with questions. This story about Nicholas Carlisle - the whirlwind romance, the grief, the engagement - it feels too polished, too easy. It bothers her.

Erica gazes down at her glass and makes a silent promise to herself. Tonight, at dinner, she’ll dig deeper. Something about Nicholas Carlisle just doesn’t sit right, and Erica trusts her instincts. They’ve never failed her before.





Erica skips lunch, opting for a weighted workout instead. Her muscles – especially in her right shoulder - burn in a familiar rhythm as she pushes through each set, but her mind keeps wandering back to Evelyn and her too-perfect fiancé, Nicholas Carlisle. There's something about him that doesn't sit right, something she can’t quite put her finger on. In between sets, the thought lingers like a stubborn itch she can’t scratch.

After her workout, Erica heads to the top deck to catch some sun, hoping the warm rays will clear her head. She slips into a bikini and stretches out on a recliner, feeling the sun’s heat on her skin. But even as she basks under the open sky, thoughts of Carlisle linger, gnawing at her. “Maybe there’s an unsuspicious way to check him out...”

“May I?” A male voice, deep but not unpleasant, cuts through her thoughts.

Erica opens her eyes and glances over. A man, possibly her age or maybe a few years older, stands behind the chair next to hers, gesturing to it. He’s tall, about six feet, with a solid build and a farmer’s tan that hints at long hours spent outdoors.

“Certainly.” she replies, pulling her aviator sunglasses back over her eyes.

“Thanks.” The man drops into the recliner beside her. “Steve McKinley, Albany, New York.” he introduces himself.

Erica looks at him again, sizing him up. Steve’s hands are rough, his elbows a little weathered - definitely not an office type. He seems honest enough, with a casual confidence that doesn’t immediately rub her the wrong way.

“Erica Sinclair, New York City.” she says, keeping it light and noncommittal.

“Glad to meet a fellow New Yorker. This is my first cruise, and honestly, I have no idea how to do any of this.”

Erica smiles slightly, staring at the sky. Another First-timer. “This is my first cruise too.” she admits. “But things will fall into place eventually, I’m sure.”

“I’m a contractor. Buildings, you know? What about you?”

“I’m a lawyer.” she replies, knowing that small talk usually drifts toward work quickly. And it's a decent enough distraction from the thoughts she’s trying to avoid.

“Wow. Wouldn’t have guessed that.” Steve says, surprised.

Erica quirks an eyebrow. “You look like a contractor, though. Your hands and tan give you away.”

Steve laughs. “Fair enough.”

The back-and-forth banter feels light, almost mindless, and that’s exactly what Erica needs. The chatter about work, sports, and cruises serves its purpose - distracting her from Evelyn and Carlisle for a while. After an hour of easy conversation, Erica slaps her thighs and sits up.

“Time to get going.” she says, standing and stretching.

“Nice meeting you, Mr. McKinley.”

“Steve.” he corrects, smiling. “Mr. McKinley’s my dad.”

Erica smiles back. “Alright, Steve.” She holds out her hand. “I’m Erica. See you around.”

With that, she makes her way back to her suite. Inside, she slips off her bikini and applies some soothing after-sun lotion, enjoying the cool sensation on her skin. The Captain’s Dinner is coming up, and it requires something formal - something polished. She rifles through her closet and settles on a fitted silk blouse, a black pencil skirt, and a matching jacket. As she checks herself out in the mirror, she chuckles at her reflection.

“Great, I look like I’m headed straight to work.” she mutters, smoothing down the front of her blouse.

Her phone buzzes with a message from Claire. She opens it to see four photos of Spot and Tiger - her kittens - eating, playing, sleeping, and yawning. Erica smiles, saving the photos to the album that’s quickly filling up with pictures of her fur babies.

A quick glance at her watch tells her it's almost six. “Time to head to “The Voyage”.” she thinks, giving herself one last look in the mirror. It’s not every day you get invited to the Captain’s Table. And with Evelyn's recent engagement announcement, the night is bound to be interesting.

With a spring in her step, Erica leaves her suite, ready to face whatever - or whoever - comes next.

[Jenny_S]

The dining hall of “The Voyage” is a masterpiece of elegance, with its crystal chandeliers casting a soft glow over the intimate tables arranged in perfect symmetry. Each table is covered in crisp white linens, set with fine china and polished silverware. It’s a scene of understated opulence, the kind that makes it clear this is no ordinary dinner but rather an exclusive event meant to impress even the most discerning guests. A soft murmur of conversation hums around the room as waiters glide smoothly from table to table, their trays laden with delicate amuse-bouches and freshly poured glasses of vintage wine.

Erica arrives at precisely 6 PM feeling a bit out of place in the ultra-formal atmosphere and catches herself tugging slightly at the collar of her blouse. Even with her tailored outfit, it all feels too much like a corporate boardroom rather than a social dinner. As she steps in, she notices a few heads turning, but she keeps her expression neutral, making her way towards Evelyn’s table, where she has been invited to sit.

Evelyn, dressed in an ivory gown with a string of pearls, looks every bit the high-society lady she is, beaming when she sees Erica approach. She’s seated beside Nicholas Carlisle, who’s dressed in a perfectly cut dark suit. His smile is polite, almost too polite, as he stands to pull out Erica’s chair.

“Erica, you look lovely.” Evelyn exclaims, reaching out to clasp her hand. “I’m so glad you could join us.”

“Thank you, Evelyn.” Erica replies, a polite smile curving her lips. “It’s a beautiful evening for a celebration.”

Nicholas nods in agreement, his gaze lingering on Erica a moment longer than necessary. “Absolutely. And what better way to mark the occasion than at the Captain’s Table?” His tone is smooth, but there’s something calculating in his eyes that makes Erica’s guard go up instinctively.

They settle in, and as the first course - a delicate lobster bisque - is served, the Captain himself arrives. Captain Henri Daladier is a tall, broad-shouldered man in his early sixties, with a graying beard and an air of quiet authority who speaks with a Canadian accent. He greets the table warmly, making his way around with a genuine smile for each guest. When he reaches Erica, he gives a respectful nod.

“Miss Sinclair, welcome aboard the “Sea Dream”. I trust you’re enjoying the cruise so far?”

“Yes, thank you, Captain. Everything has been wonderful.” Erica replies politely.

As the evening progresses, Erica notices that Nicholas keeps the conversation flowing smoothly, deftly steering it away from personal matters and onto neutral topics - world affairs, the quality of the wine, the recent surge in tourism. But there’s an undercurrent to his words, a subtle way he manages to keep everyone engaged without giving much of himself away. Erica keeps her expression pleasant, but her mind is already racing, filing away every little detail.

Evelyn is radiant, basking in the attention, clearly delighted to have Nicholas by her side. At one point, as the main course - pan- seared sea bass paired with asparagus spears - is being served, Evelyn leans closer to Erica.

“I’m so happy you could be here tonight,” she whispers, glancing fondly at Nicholas. “It means a lot to me. And I can’t wait for you to really get to know Nick. He’s a wonderful man.”

Erica gives a slight smile. “I’m looking forward to it.” she says, though her tone is carefully noncommittal.

As the dessert - a decadent chocolate soufflé - is served, Nicholas engages Erica directly for the first time. “Evelyn tells me you’re a lawyer in New York.” he remarks casually. “Corporate law, was it?”

“Mainly.” Erica replies. “Among other fields...”

Nicholas nods thoughtfully. “Fascinating work. I imagine it takes a great deal of intuition to succeed in such a field.”

“It does.” Erica agrees, holding his gaze steadily. “You have to be able to read people.”

A flicker of something - unease, perhaps - passes over his face, but it’s gone almost instantly. He smiles, lifting his glass. “To intuition, then.” he says smoothly.

Erica clinks her glass lightly against his, her eyes never leaving his face. “To intuition.” she echoes.

The dinner wraps up with light applause for the Captain’s hospitality. As the guests begin to disperse, Nicholas places a hand on Evelyn’s arm and leans close to murmur something in her ear. She nods, then turns to Erica.

“Don’t forget, dinner tomorrow night with just the three of us.” she says brightly. “I want us all to get to know each other better.”

Erica nods, offering her a warm smile. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

But as she leaves the dining hall, she can’t help but feel that the evening has only deepened her sense of unease about Nicholas Carlisle.





Back in her suite, Erica steps out of her heels, relishing the feel of the soft carpet beneath her feet. She shrugs off her business clothes, hanging them neatly in the closet and changes into her kimono before moving onto the balcony by pushing open the sliding door. The night air is crisp and cool, a refreshing contrast to the heated undercurrent she felt at the dinner table.

Standing at the railing, she looks out over the dark expanse of the ocean, her mind replaying every word, every gesture from the evening. Something isn’t right. Nicholas Carlisle is too smooth, too perfect. And the way he avoided any personal questions - deflecting, evading, always sidestepping.

She’s dealt with people like him before in her line of work, and it usually meant one thing: he’s hiding something.

Evelyn’s excitement and obvious adoration for him only complicate things. Erica shakes her head, rubbing her temples. She wants to believe that her new friend has found happiness, but she can’t ignore the feeling that this engagement is too sudden, too convenient.

“What are you up to, Nicholas?” she mutters under her breath.

With a sigh, she turns away from the balcony and heads inside. As she readies herself for bed, she pulls out her phone, scrolling absently through the photos Claire sent earlier. Spot and Tiger, her little kittens, looking playful and innocent. A reminder of the simple, honest things in her life.

But nothing about Nicholas Carlisle feels simple or honest.

She makes a mental note to dig a little deeper into his background. Maybe there’s something she can find that will explain this nagging suspicion. After all, Evelyn deserves to know the truth.

With that resolve, she switches off the light and slips into bed, the waves lapping softly against the ship lulling her into a restless sleep.

[Jenny_S]

Dear readers,
thank you for investing your time in my stories featuring Erica Sinclair.
I appreciate each and every one of you more than I can say and I hope that I don’t disappoint as an amateur writer.
Please feel free to reach out with your constructive criticism, your feedback means a lot to me.

Shameless self-promotion: you can find this story (and all the previous ones) in full length here: https://www.wattpad.com/user/JS_writing

For those of you who can’t wait to read the following two stories “The Velvet Room” and “Runner’s Future” – I have uploaded them as well.

Tonight we will push on with Erica’s sixth adventure “Sea Dream”, shall we?

[Jenny_S]

The next morning, after her morning run in the ship's gym and getting ready, Erica heads down to “The Voyage” again, this time dressed casually in a light blouse and slacks, her hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. She orders her breakfast - eggs over easy, a side of turkey bacon, and an Americano. As she settles at a table near the window, the morning sun casting a soft glow across the restaurant, she feels more focused. Clear-headed. Ready to tackle the day.

“Erica! Good morning!” a familiar voice calls out.

She looks up, surprised to see Steve McKinley approaching with a tray of his own. He’s dressed casually, wearing a polo shirt and khakis, and his grin is boyish, almost shy. He gestures to the empty seat across from her.

“Mind if I join you?”

Erica hesitates, then gestures to the chair. “Go ahead.”

Steve sets down his tray, a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast piled high. “Wow, this place is something else, huh? I didn’t expect the breakfast to be this good.”

Erica smiles faintly. “It’s definitely a step above your average buffet.”

He chuckles, glancing around the room. “I, uh, was hoping I’d run into you, actually. I wanted to say thanks for chatting yesterday. I’m not really great at all this social stuff.”

Erica arches a brow. “You seemed fine to me.”

Steve ducks his head, clearly a little embarrassed. “Well, thanks. Anyway, if you’re free later, maybe we could catch a show or something? No pressure, of course.”

She studies him for a moment, noting the earnest expression on his face. He might have engineered this little run-in with her, but he’s not pushy, not overbearing. Just…interested. Sincere.

“I’ll think about it.” she says, her tone gentle. “But for now, I have a busy day ahead.”

Steve nods, his smile undeterred. “Of course. I’m just glad I got to see you.”

With a final smile, he turns back to his own breakfast, and Erica can’t help but feel a small pang of guilt. He’s a nice guy. But nice guys often get caught in the crossfire.

As she finishes her breakfast, she makes a mental note to keep her distance. For Steve’s sake. Because if Nicholas Carlisle really is up to something, she’s not going to risk dragging anyone else into it.


It’s not that Erica has too many things on her plate, but one of her promises for this cruise is to finally catch up on reading. The classics she always meant to devour but could never find the time for are tucked away in her suite, waiting for her. And after the indulgent breakfast, she figures it's the perfect moment to start.

Later, she has an appointment for a manicure and pedicure - both of which are long overdue, especially the pedicure. Recently, her toes have been feeling cramped in her running shoes. Not something she'd want to admit to Steve, who’d probably suggest she switch to steel-toed work boots. Erica chuckles at the mental image of pairing her sleek business suits with heavy construction boots.

Deciding to head back to her suite for some quiet reading time, she leaves “The Voyage” behind, stepping away from the morning bustle of the breakfast crowd. Approaching the elevators, she notices a small group already waiting and opts for the stairs instead. The ship’s staircase is grand, but at this hour, relatively empty. As she moves past the plaza, the air feels lighter, less crowded, and peaceful - perfect for an early morning stroll.

The plaza itself is mostly still. It has the charm of a small town square waking up - tables empty, the early sunlight just beginning to warm the cobblestones. Erica takes it all in until something - no, someone - stops her in her tracks.

In the shadowed alcove of the 50s-style café, two figures stand close, talking quietly. Her heart skips. That’s...Nicholas Carlisle. She freezes, retreating behind a kiosk, not quite sure why she’s hiding but feeling compelled to do so. Her pulse quickens as she squints, making out the details. Nicholas leans toward the woman with him - definitely not Evelyn.

They speak in low tones, their body language intimate. And then...the kiss. Not a casual peck but a full, lingering kiss on the lips. Erica inhales sharply. Her instincts were right all along - there’s something off about this guy. But now she’s sure. He’s hiding something.

Erica’s mind races as she watches them part slowly, like neither one really wants to let go. Her stomach twists. Evelyn, so giddy and excited just hours ago, talking about her engagement, oblivious to what her charming Nicholas is up to. Erica’s grip tightens on her bag. What now? Should she confront him? Tell Evelyn?

A quiet, unnerving realization settles over her: she’s already in the middle of something she didn’t ask to be part of.


Nicholas and the woman part, each heading in different directions, as if to avoid drawing attention. Erica, still hiding behind the kiosk, feels a tight knot form in her stomach. She watches as the woman takes slow, measured steps toward the far side of the plaza. Nicholas, meanwhile, disappears around a corner, out of sight. The plaza remains quiet, the only movement a few early risers shuffling through, oblivious to what just transpired.

Erica shifts slightly behind the kiosk, her pulse quickening. This is it - the moment she could just walk away, head back to her suite, and try to relax with her book. Pretend she hadn’t just seen the man Evelyn gushed about caught in a secret kiss with another woman. But her gut twists. She can’t. She just can’t.

As the woman passes by her hiding spot, Erica gets her first real look. She's around Nicholas’ age, a bit shorter than Erica herself, maybe 5'6" or 5'7", with straight brown hair that falls neatly around her shoulders. Pretty, but in an understated, no-nonsense way. She’s dressed casually, like any other guest aboard the Sea Dream, and that detail strikes Erica as important. The Basic Guest Pass clipped to the light blue lanyard around her neck confirms it - she’s not staff. Definitely a passenger.

The woman continues walking, her steps unhurried, and Erica remains frozen in place, torn between her instincts and the small voice in her head warning her to back off. “What if this is nothing?” But Nicholas’ betrayal is too fresh in her mind. The woman rounds a corner, possibly heading toward one of the ship’s many restaurants, and as soon as she disappears from view, Erica steps out from behind the kiosk, her decision made.

She follows.

[LunaDog]

Intriguing. VERY intriguing.

[Jenny_S]

Dear @LunaDog , thanks, my friend. Let's see how the story unfolds further.

[Jenny_S]

At a distance, she trails the woman down a wide staircase leading to the lower deck, each step making Erica feel more like she’s crossing a line she won’t be able to uncross. As the woman passes by “The Voyage”, Erica slows, watching closely. The woman doesn’t stop, doesn’t glance around - she walks straight into one of the more casual buffet-style restaurants. It’s a stark contrast to “The Voyage”’s more sophisticated dining atmosphere, but it suits the low-key air of the woman.

The restaurant is open and bustling, filled with the low hum of conversations, the clatter of plates, and the aromatic waft of warm, simple food. Long rows of gleaming counters display an array of breakfast options: eggs, sausages, pastries, cereals. It’s a place where the less formal crowd gathers - families with kids, couples in beachwear, and retirees content with simpler pleasures.

Erica hesitates for a split second, then steps inside. She quickly grabs a mug from the beverage station, as if she’s just here for a casual cup of coffee, blending in with the guests. She positions herself just behind the woman in line, who is carefully placing a pre-made breakfast burrito on her tray. There’s nothing suspicious about her actions. She scans her guest pass at the food counter, just like any other person would, and as she does, Erica catches a glimpse of the name printed on the pass: Valerie Snyder.

Valerie continues through the line, completely unaware of Erica’s presence, and selects a small container of fruit before steering toward a vacant table in the far corner of the room. Erica holds her breath, deciding her next move. There’s no point in staying longer than necessary, but she can’t leave without taking a closer look. She puts down the mug she never intended to fill and makes her way past Valerie, her steps casual but her eyes sharp.

As she passes Valerie’s table, Erica does a quick, discreet scan - taking in everything. Valerie is seated, her back to the room, looking utterly at ease. She’s focused on unwrapping her burrito, oblivious to the world around her. No signs of guilt, no furtive glances over her shoulder. But something feels off, and Erica knows it. Her instincts prickling, she makes mental notes of every detail - Valerie’s posture, the faint trace of a smile on her lips as she eats, her mannerisms.

Erica takes a slow breath and keeps moving. Now she knows the woman’s name, her face, and where she likes to have breakfast. She has enough to recognize Valerie Snyder again when - not if - she needs to.

She steps back into the hall, her mind racing. Who is Valerie Snyder? And why is she kissing Nicholas Carlisle in secret? As Erica heads back toward the plaza, her sense of unease deepens. This isn’t just a harmless fling.

Something much bigger is brewing, and Erica has just scratched the surface.




Evelyn’s suite is lavish, even by the ship’s standards, with a private balcony overlooking the shimmering ocean and a dining area set for three. Candles flicker on the table, casting a soft, warm light over the setting. Nicholas is already at the suite when Erica arrives. Evelyn, radiant in a fitted silk dress, beams at her as she steps inside.

“Erica! So glad you could join us.” Evelyn says, coming over to greet her with a light hug. Erica returns the gesture, her eyes flicking toward Nicholas, who stands a few feet away, looking every bit the perfect fiancé in a tailored shirt, his demeanor relaxed yet somehow guarded.

“Of course.” Erica replies, smiling. She feels the tension of the night settle over her shoulders. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Nicholas moves forward, his hand resting easily on Evelyn’s lower back. “Good to see you again, Erica.” His voice is smooth, polite. As they sit down to dinner, it becomes immediately clear how doting he is. He pulls Evelyn’s chair out, pours her wine, leans in close to whisper little things to her that make her laugh. He holds her hand between courses, fingers intertwined with hers. The whole performance of a perfect fiancé.

But Erica watches closely. Something feels off.

After a few pleasantries, Erica decides to press subtly. She leans forward, cradling her wine glass in one hand, her tone casual but probing. “So, Nicholas, Evelyn tells me you’re a financial consultant. Do you travel a lot for your work?”

Nicholas’s eyes flick to her briefly, a flash of something unreadable passing over his face before he gives a soft nod. “I do, yes. Mostly remote work now, but I still like to meet clients in person when I can.” He takes a sip of his wine, his grip tightening around the stem.

“And you’re originally from...?” Erica lets the question linger.

Nicholas hesitates, glancing at Evelyn for a beat too long before replying. “Chicago. Grew up there. But I’ve been all over since.” He waves his hand dismissively. “Life takes you to unexpected places.”

Evelyn smiles, clearly oblivious to his evasion. “Nick’s a bit of a nomad.” she says, squeezing his hand. “But I’m trying to convince him to settle down with me in Colorado.”

Erica doesn’t miss the way Nicholas tenses slightly at the word “settle.”

“And your family?” Erica asks, keeping her tone light. “Do you have siblings, parents back in Chicago?”

There’s a beat of silence before Nicholas answers, his voice quieter now. “Not really... It’s mostly just me now.” His eyes flick down to his plate, his mood dampening. “Lost my wife a couple of years ago. I... I try not to dwell on the past too much.”

Evelyn immediately jumps in, rubbing his arm. “It was such a terrible tragedy, Erica. We both found each other at a time when we were both lost.” Her eyes glisten with emotion.

Nicholas puts on a sad smile, but it seems rehearsed. “It’s been hard. But I’m grateful to have Evelyn now.” He lifts Evelyn’s hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly.

Erica feels a pang of discomfort. His response was too polished, too evasive.

“Ah, but let’s not talk about business or the past tonight.” Nicholas says, steering the conversation away with a charming smile. “Let’s enjoy the moment.”

Erica raises her glass, but the pit in her stomach tells her something’s off. As the evening progresses, Nicholas remains smooth, dodging further probing questions, always redirecting the conversation back to Evelyn or lighter topics. Erica watches, her suspicions deepening.




Back in her suite after the dinner, Erica closes the door behind her, letting out a sigh of relief. The evening had been long, and although nothing concrete had come of it, she couldn’t shake the strange feeling Nicholas gave her. His charm seemed too polished, his answers too rehearsed.

She moves through the suite, the gentle hum of the ship barely noticeable now. She kicks off her heels, slipping out of her fitted blouse and skirt, and carefully hangs the suit jacket in the closet. Standing in front of the mirror, she unclasps her earrings, running a hand through her hair to release it from its tight twist. There’s something liberating about shedding her formal attire.

Her silk kimono, her preferred nightwear, hangs neatly on the back of a chair. Erica drapes it over her shoulders, the fabric cool and smooth against her skin. She ties the belt loosely around her waist and feels an instant sense of comfort. It’s a relief to let go of the day, to step out of the role of the careful observer, if only for a little while.

Needing some air, she walks onto the small terrace outside her suite, where the ocean breeze greets her, carrying the scent of saltwater and freedom. The stars are scattered across the sky like diamonds, their reflection shimmering on the dark surface of the sea below. She leans against the railing, her thoughts still turning over everything that had transpired at dinner.

The sound of the waves lapping against the ship is soothing, but her mind refuses to settle. Nicholas’s evasions had been subtle, but to Erica’s trained instincts, they were noticeable. The way he had dodged her questions about his family, his reluctance to talk about his work - something didn’t add up.

She pulls her phone from the pocket of her kimono, unlocking the screen to find a notification waiting for her. It’s a message from Claire. Smiling, Erica opens it, and her heart warms at the sight of the photo Claire has sent. Spot and Tiger, her two playful kittens, are caught mid-sprint, charging towards the camera across the polished hardwood floor of her living room. Their tiny paws are a blur, their eyes wide with mischief. Erica chuckles, saving the photo to her ever-growing album of kitten pictures.

Claire’s message reads: All is well, they're little terrors as usual!

Erica types a quick response: I miss them already. Thanks for looking after them!

With a content smile, she puts her phone down and steps back inside. The sight of her two critters brings her a momentary sense of peace, a positive distraction from the evening’s events. She feels a warmth settle in her chest as she thinks of them.

She walks over to the bed, pulling back the crisp white duvet, and slips underneath it. The cool sheets feel soft against her skin, the gentle sway of the ship comforting. She lays back, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before closing her eyes.

Even with the pleasant distraction of her kittens, the lingering feeling from dinner gnaws at her. Nicholas’s smile, his deflection, the way he was almost too perfect around Evelyn - it all keeps swirling in her mind. Her gut tells her there’s more to the story, but for now, she has no choice but to wait and see what the next few days reveal.

With a soft exhale, Erica pulls the duvet up to her shoulders, trying to let go of her thoughts. Tomorrow is another day, and perhaps the clarity she seeks will come then.

For now, she drifts off, lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the ship and the distant sound of the ocean.

[Jenny_S]

The sun is high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the lush, tropical landscape as the ship anchors near Cozumel. The air is thick with humidity, and the ruins of San Gervasio loom in the distance, ancient and mysterious against the backdrop of the jungle.

Erica joins the excursion group, her eyes scanning the other passengers as the barge takes the passengers from the cruise ship to the pier.
As expected, Evelyn and Nicholas are among them, Evelyn in a wide-brimmed hat and flowing dress, Nicholas in casual attire but still maintaining that polished look. To Erica’s surprise, she spots another familiar face - Valerie Snyder, blending in with the crowd but unmistakable in her plain style.

They set off toward the ruins, a local guide leading them through the ancient site, pointing out carvings, temples, and the history of the Mayan civilization. Erica tries to focus on the tour, but her attention keeps drifting to Nicholas and Evelyn, who are walking hand in hand, and Valerie, who lingers nearby but never too close. There’s a strange tension in the air.

Halfway through the tour, Nicholas steps away from Evelyn, murmuring something about a business call. He flashes his phone as if to prove his excuse, then heads off down a shaded path, away from the group.

Erica’s pulse quickens. She watches as Nicholas disappears around a corner, and then, out of the corner of her eye, she sees Valerie quietly slipping away as well, following him.

Without hesitation, Erica breaks away from the group, keeping a safe distance but close enough to track their movements. She follows them through the trees, past ancient stone structures, until they stop in a secluded area, hidden from the rest of the tourists.

Nicholas and Valerie stand close, speaking in hushed tones. Erica ducks behind a crumbling stone wall, her heart racing. She can’t hear what they’re saying, but their body language is telling. There’s no affection, no kiss this time, but the way they lean in, the intensity of their conversation - it’s clear they know each other far more intimately than either of them lets on.

After a few minutes, Nicholas glances around, and they separate. Valerie heads back toward the group first, her expression calm and unreadable. Nicholas lingers for a moment, checking his phone again before rejoining Evelyn with a carefree smile, as if nothing had happened.

Erica waits a beat before slipping back into the group, her mind racing. Nicholas isn’t just hiding something - he’s hiding someone. But what is going on exactly? And why?

As the tour resumes, Erica keeps her distance, her suspicions no longer just a nagging feeling but a growing certainty. Whatever Nicholas is up to, it’s bigger than a simple business call.



As the excursion through San Gervasio winds down, the tour group begins to make its way back towards the pier where the barge waits to shuttle guests back to the “Sea Dream”. The late afternoon sun bathes Cozumel in a golden hue, and a soft breeze rolls off the water, cooling the warm air. Erica lingers behind the group, her thoughts still on Nicholas and Valerie's secretive meeting at the ruins, her eyes drifting over the other guests.

Suddenly, Steve McKinley appears at her side, paging through a colorful tourist guide of Cozumel. He gives her a warm, hopeful smile.

“Hey, Erica.” he says casually, closing the guide and tucking it under his arm. “I was thinking - after we’re done here, would you be interested in grabbing a cocktail before we head back? You know, take in the view, enjoy the local scene a bit.”

He pauses, his face a little flushed, whether from the heat or nerves, Erica can’t tell. He scratches the back of his neck, then adds with a chuckle, “We could take the next barge...”

Erica looks at him for a moment, recalling how she’d brushed him off at breakfast, and decides to cut him some slack this time. Besides, she doesn’t want to look like she’s hovering over Evelyn and Nicholas any more than necessary. Maybe a drink with Steve will keep her mind off of things - and keep her at a comfortable distance.

“Sure, Steve. Why not.” She says with the slightest of smiles.

The two linger behind, allowing the crowd to move ahead. The warm breeze off the ocean mixes with the chatter of fellow tourists as they stroll toward the beach bar near the pier.

Erica is deep in thought, her mind still on the strange interaction she witnessed between Nicholas and Valerie during the tour at San Gervasio. But she remains outwardly composed, giving Steve an encouraging smile as they walk. She senses an opportunity - Steve could unknowingly help her get more information.

“You know, Erica.” Steve says, breaking the silence, “I’m glad you decided to join me for a drink. I didn’t think you would, after this morning.”

She gives him a small grin. “Well, it’s not every day I get to relax like this. Besides, you’re decent company.”

Steve chuckles, though a hint of nervousness lingers in his posture. “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

They arrive at the small beach bar, and Steve orders a rum and coke while Erica opts for an icy mojito. The local bartender slides the drinks across the bamboo counter, and they take their place by the railing, gazing out at the soft waves lapping the shore.

Erica, still thinking of Valerie, spots her boarding the barge with the rest of the passengers. She watches the woman as she moves calmly, her demeanor giving nothing away. Something nags at her: that woman is more than she appears, and it’s time to probe a little deeper.

Turning towards Steve, her tone casual but calculated. “What do you think, Steve? That lady over there - Valerie, I think her name is. Would she be your type?”

Steve raises an eyebrow and follows Erica’s gaze, spotting Valerie as she climbs onto the barge. “She’s attractive, sure.” he says, then looks back at Erica. “Why, you playing matchmaker now?”

Erica smiles, taking a sip of her mojito. “Maybe. She was alone during the excursion, seemed approachable. Figured it couldn’t hurt to try.”

Steve glances back at Valerie, then shrugs. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to say hi. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Erica gives him a light nudge. “Go on, then. You might surprise yourself.”

Steve hesitates, then downs the last of his drink for courage. “Alright, I’m going in.”

He walks off toward the barge where Valerie is standing near the gate, waiting for other passengers to settle. Erica watches Steve’s approach with interest, her heart quickening slightly. If Valerie brushes him off, it could confirm Erica’s suspicions that there’s more to her than meets the eye.

From her vantage point, Erica sees Steve introduce himself. Valerie listens politely, but her body language is guarded - she’s not interested, not even in a free drink or some small talk. After a few moments of conversation, she shakes her head, and Steve steps back, clearly rejected but still smiling.

Steve returns to Erica a minute later, running a hand through his hair with a self- deprecating chuckle. “Well, that didn’t go as planned.”

Erica raises an eyebrow, sipping her drink. “What happened?”

“She said she’s not single.” Steve lets out a disappointed sigh. “She was nice about it, but yeah - definitely not interested.”

“Not single?” Erica’s mind races. Nicholas? She keeps her expression neutral, though, and offers a sympathetic smile. “I guess some women are just off the market.”

Steve shrugs. “Can’t win ’em all. But hey, at least I tried.”

Erica pats him on the arm. “You did. And I admire your courage.”

As they stand by the bar, watching the last few passengers climb onto the barge, Erica takes another discreet glance at Valerie. The rejection has only fueled her suspicions - Valerie is indeed not single, but is Nicholas the man in question? Their secret meeting at the ruins and her rejection of Steve seem to point in that direction.

Still, Erica keeps her tone light, turning her focus back to Steve, who’s taking his failed attempt in stride. “Well, looks like you’ll just have to find another lucky lady.”

Steve smirks. “Maybe I’ll stick to talking to people I actually know.” He gives her a meaningful glance, but Erica laughs it off. Yes, he’s a nice guy, but she doesn’t want to make him think that she’s available.

Together with the other passengers who are returning from the ATV jungle tour, they board the next barge together, but as the sun sets over the horizon, Erica’s thoughts remain on the mysterious Valerie and her connection to Nicholas. The puzzle pieces are slowly falling into place, and Erica is more determined than ever to find out the truth.

[LunaDog]

Oh, the life on the ocean wave!

[Jenny_S]

Dear @LunaDog , only the waves and nice people around...