Read If I Fall for Free Online

the waiter has become. He shall never catch me! I think joyfully, before … Smack!
    The hard hit knocks me to the ground, and I lie sprawled across the deck on my back. My breath whooshes from my lungs and the world floods back in. I lift my gaze to see what hard object I had run into and gasp. The shadowy shape of a man looms over me, but I cannot see his face, blinded by the glaring sun behind him.
    My hat lies upside down beside me, my hair falling down across my shoulders. Fear beats through my veins. My second biggest secret whips around my face in the form of black ringlets.
    “Stop right there!”
    The towering man’s head snaps up and I crane my neck to see, too. The waiter! He runs forward, still meters away but drawing closer every second. I gaze at the young man and then at the waiter. What am I to do? Snapping my hat up, I stand, rearing to run, when the man grabs my arm. I gasp, looking down at my pale arm in his strong grip. I pull against him, but his firm hold does not waver.
    Confused and frightened, I meet his gaze. He stares back at me, his abnormally light green eyes cold and calculating. His skin is tan, a few freckles dotting his nose. Long lashes frame his startling eyes and his pink lips press into a thin line. His deep brown hair falls over his forehead, disheveled. I find myself realizing he is handsome, beautiful even, and perhaps only a year older than me. Eighteen at the very most.
    “Put your hat back on,” he says, his voice deeper than I expected. I peer over his shoulder and see the waiter coming towards us. With difficulty, I secure my hair beneath the bowler. Just as I tuck away the last curl, the man jogs over to us, placing his hands on his knees as he takes deep breaths. It is clearly not every day that he must chase a thieving girl-boy.
    “Terribly sorry, Mr. Laurence, sir,” he says, and straightens. I find it strange that the waiter should know his name. This Mr. Laurence must be a first-class passenger, and a very important one at that. “If you would be so kind as to hand over the lad, I’ll let you continue on your way.”
    The young man holding my arm smirks. “I think not.”
    I must not be the only one surprised by this turn of events, for the waiter is staring at the young man, dumbfounded. I stare, too, unsure as to what he is doing. Or more importantly, why?
    “Here’s what you are going to do,” the young man says, a clear tone of authority lacing his voice. “You are going to return to the kitchen and inform anyone who asks that you were mistaken. You will not mention this occurrence to anyone. You will return to your life as though the past five minutes never occurred.” He digs in his pockets and puts a handful of shillings in the waiter’s hands. “Do we have an understanding?”
    “But—Sir—” the waiter stammers. I almost feel sorry for him.
    Holding up a hand, the young man silences him. “No questions. Do as I say and begone.”
    The waiter nods his head in a short bow and leaves, sneaking incredulous glances over his shoulder.
    Still holding my arm, the young man turns, pulling me along with him. I follow behind, afraid to speak if he should change his mind about saving me. He marches me through doors and corridors, through an airy tea room, and what I am sure is the ballroom, until we stop before a door on the third level. He pulls a key from his blazer pocket and opens the door, stepping inside and pulling me in after him.
    The cabin is large with a small living room branching into a dining room and two bedrooms. I catch a glimpse of a claw foot bathtub through a door to my right. Whoever this young man is, he has money and lots of it. He swings me around onto a pink chaise and closes the door, leaning against it purposefully.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I see a maid scurry into the closest room, afraid she has stumbled upon an intimate moment between her master and his new lady friend. I find myself wondering if she must do this often when