Hurt flicks across Nikolai’s face, but he smooths it away. He braces his forearm against the wall next to my door. “Are you sure? I am like vodka. It is, on first taste, not everyone’s favorite. But after a few sips, you may find you like it.” Waggling his eyebrows, he leans closer.

“No!” I explode. “I really don’t know how to say this any more clearly. I’m not interested. Please leave me alone.” I enunciate each word so it’s sharper than a dagger.

Nikolai takes two stumbling steps back. “Oh, I…” He sniffs. His shoulders quiver.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes I’m—” A wet snuffle escapes him. Tears slip from the corners of his eyes and trickle along the side of his long nose.

“Are you crying?”

He answers me with a noisy sob.

Great. I made a guest cry. “Here. Just, get in here.” I yank him by the arm into my cabin. Every ingrained instinct screams, “Don’t let a strange man into your cabin!” and not only because staff aren’t allowed to have guests in their cabins. But this is Nikolai. I believed Dwight when he told me he’s not inherently terrible. Misguided and a wee bit goofy? Yes. A dangerous predator? Well, you never really know about people (men), but in this case, I’m willing to wager a no.

Besides, Graeme is hiding in the bathroom merely a few feet away. All it’d take is one scream and he’d come running.

Graeme. My thighs clench together and my heartbeat stutters. I need to get Nikolai calmed down and out of here. Stat.

I steer Nikolai, who is trying—and failing—to hold back his flood of tears, toward the two beds. I intend to sit him down on my bed, but Graeme’s shirt is lying conspicuously in front of it, so I turn Nikolai at the last minute and push him down onto the edge of Walsh’s unmade bed instead.

With my back to Nikolai, I snag Graeme’s shirt and stuff it under the desk before picking up a box of tissues and offering it to him. He plucks one out with a wobbly nod and blows his nose. The sound reverberates through the cabin like a tuba.

“I am so sorry,” he says, crumpling up his tissue. “I know my personality can be strong. Perhaps I have bothered you on this cruise.”

“Well?” Yeah. You have.

“It is only… you look like her.”

I sink onto the bed opposite him. “Who?”

“My ex-fiancée, Emily.” Dragging his wrist across his nose, he digs in his back pocket and pulls out his phone. A swipe and a few taps later, he holds it up so I can see the screen.