The air was hot and dry, there was hardly any breeze. Iris desperately tried to untangle her sweat-tangled hair, feeling its weight drop on her shoulders and back. She wore no makeup; it was too hot outside. Rays of twilight sunshine weakened with each minute.

"Are you going to bring a gun?" Lora peeked behind the bathroom door. They were back in Opatija, but Iris had no idea where Igor would take her. The hotel they were staying in was rustic, slightly vintage. Floral sheets, beige tapestry, intricate, gilded detailing on the appliances and furniture.

"No." Iris felt her heart quicken.

"You should bring a gun."

Iris turned away from the mirror, "I'm going on a date."

She was ready. Her white flowy dress was almost see-through, allowing a good look at the crimson red two-piece suit she had underneath. Some men loved perfect; done nails, straightened hair, each eyelash exactly where it was supposed to be. She hated those the most, they required too much work. Igor seemed to be the type to like loose, natural, free. Iris could play that part well.

"Dates are dangerous." Lora mumbled as Iris walked past her out of the bathroom.

"We're going swimming; it's too big of a chance he'd notice it." Iris raised her brow and reached for her linen bag where she carried only her wallet and her phone.

Lora followed after her, "Are you at least going to bring a towel?"

"Nothing quite as attractive as wet clothes clinging to your body." Iris pointed out while leaning with her back against the door; ready to leave.

"Fine." Lora rolled her eyes. "Practice safe sex."

"Always." Iris grinned and slammed the door shut.

Igor stood in front of the hotel, waiting. Iris swallowed the sudden burning realisation that she might end up sleeping with him tonight. Despite feeling ambiguous towards him at best, the idea did not repel her. He was a strong man, tall, bulky, dark. Once more, he did not bother with expensive clothing or even fashionable. He had his shorts, his flip-flops and a black shirt on. Iris could smell the musky cologne off him and she wondered whether he wore it often or if he only put it on for her.

Her heart skipped a beat as she imagined his body looming over her and his strong arms gripping her waist.

She shook it off as she came closer to him.

The fact there was no car waiting for them surprised her, "Are we going to walk?"

Igor nodded, "My driver asked me if he could borrow the car tonight, he's trying to impress a girl. But he's a good kid."

Iris chuckled, "A kid?"

"He's eighteen."

"You have an eighteen year old driver?" Iris raised her brow.

Igor waved her question away, "Don't worry, he's been driving since he was eleven."

She couldn't help but think it was kind of sweet of him to borrow his car to a driver so he could woo some poor girl. There was something unnecessarily kind about it.

"You seem like the type to drive your own car." Iris said as they began to walk down the street. Palm trees, street lights and an occasional bench paved the way.

"He's mostly there to pick people up for me from the airports or the dock." Igor explained. "I like to walk whenever I have the opportunity. And sail."

"It's good for the soul." Iris nodded. "You still didn't tell me what you do for a living."

The question felt dangerous on her tongue, but she tried to put herself in the role she's been playing, the role of an innocent tourist meeting an interesting man. In that scenario, the question wasn't that strange.

Igor shrugged, "It's not that great of a story."

"To risk sounding too straightforward, that yacht told a different story."

"Eh, it's rented." Igor grinned. "We're going to my real boat right now."

"Why rent a yacht if you have a boat?" Iris fired immediately, hoping this damn question wasn't too rude. She couldn't help it, though, her curiosity got the best of her.

Igor looked at her, a glint of that same curiosity appearing in his dark eyes, "I'm meeting my business partners on the yacht while I'm here. It leaves a better impression."

"Ah, so you're not awaiting your business partners in your boxers, then." Iris felt a wave of heat flush her. Perhaps it was the hot air or the memory of Igor's strong body resting on the deckchair.

Igor chuckled, "Don't worry, I only flash my junk, as you called it, in front of friends."

"Come on, tell me your unimpressive poor-to-rich story." Iris willed impatience out of her voice, hoping she sounded casual.

"I lucked out." Igor shrugged and they turned left to the Riviera. "Back in my early twenties, I bought a bunch of Bitcoin. At the time, it was probably a fool's move, but times have changed."

Iris's mind went straight to the crypto market, which she understood well enough. Her degree in behavioural economy came in handy at times.

"You bought Bitcoin when it was probably worth less than ten dollars." She hoped her calculation was correct. Igor was in his early thirties, which meant he bought Bitcoin around ten years ago, back in 2012 or 2013.

Igor nodded, "And now it's worth a lot more."

Iris glanced at him sideways, hoping she didn't look as shocked as she felt. She knew he was rich, but she did not know he was that rich.

"I hope you're not still keeping all of your money in Bitcoin." She chuckled, the sound coming out as strained.

"I'm still keeping some of it in Bitcoin. I invested the rest, bought a bunch of real estate and basically financed my every business venture with the money I kept liquid." Igor said.

Iris smiled faintly, "Did you buy any gold?"

Right as they reached the dock, Igor turned to her and smiled seductively, "Why? Wanna find my hidden treasure?"

"Well, you're keeping a low profile. It's making me wonder how much money you're hiding from the wandering public eye." Iris said coyly, adding a touch of humour in the sensitive subject of the conversation.

"The wandering public eye are a bunch of busybodies and I don't like sharing anything with them." Igor approached the much smaller, wooden, sailing boat with more warmth and charm in the coloured windows than in the entire 50ft yacht.

It had enough space for a cabin and sun tanning on the deck. There was a small wooden table on the deck with a bottle of wine and two glasses on. Iris loved it; it went well with Igor's nature. A little wildly patched-up out of nothing, unbounded, free. She could imagine him in his flip-flops on this boat.

"Welcome aboard." He hopped on the boat and offered a hand to Iris.

She took it, "Where are we going?" The boat slightly rocked as she stood on it.

"There's a secluded beach not far."

A secluded beach. A gorgeous man. And a taste for wild and unhinged behaviour. She just might have a good time tonight. Iris sat on the stool and Igor grabbed the rudder. The sea moved underneath them, gliding across the hull of the ship.

Finally, a gentle breeze touched Iris's hair, breaking the summer heat. The sun almost completely set, creating a magical scenery of colours in the sky. Deep, dark blue with only a touch of light at the edge of the horizon and the streetlights disappearing in the distance.

"At least an eighteen year old isn't sailing your boat." Iris did not pretend to be polite, she took the bottle of wine and poured herself a glass. The night was too hot to pass on a drink.

Igor chuckled, "Some things a man has to do alone."

The water turned black, the last of the light's reflections gone. A strange sense of peace overwhelmed Iris and she understood why he liked this. The sea, the sky, the serenity. A perfect escape for a troubled soul. She leaned her head back and enjoyed the air circulating through her hair.

"You caught the poor-to-rich part." Igor said.

It took her a moment to realise what he referred to, "Well, you mentioned your mother hadn't had enough money to come back to her hometown."

"It's funny, isn't it?" He mumbled. "For the better part of her life she fought hard to come back, but I suppose it was one of those dreams you never act on. Once I earned enough to help her actually come back, she refused."

"Old habits die hard." Iris took a sip of the sweet wine. Gosh, she could get drunk on this alone. The bottle said Muscat wine. "Do you recon she's happy?"

Igor chuckled, "I'm not telling you more until you explain that fiasco during dinner. Your friend said you still felt guilty about your fiancé. I want to hear that story."

Iris sighed, hearing Lora's words in her head again. She was not supposed to tell them anything real, she wasn't supposed to share. Yet, she wanted to. Telling your troubled past to a stranger was a rare opportunity.

"There's not much to it." Iris shrugged. "The moment things turned too serious, I freaked out. And an engagement was too serious."

"Did you fall out of love?" Igor asked.

They were gliding next to the shore until they reached a small, pebble-covered beach. Igor didn't dock, he kept his boat a few feet away from the shore and tied it to the buoy. Iris stared at the moon-illuminated beach. The pebbles appeared white. The rocks that sore to the skies appeared white. The rest, the sea and the trees, rested under the cover of darkness.

"I loved him." Iris said, her soul rustling in contrast to the calm sea. "I've felt the depth of love on my own skin."

"Then what happened?" Igor sat on the stool on the opposite side of her and poured himself a glass of wine.

He took a sip and let out a content sigh. Iris appreciated the way his character mimicked the sea. Power hiding behind calmness.

"My roots are weak." Iris answered and looked away, realising she's been staring. "A breeze can blow me away. And I am always one step away from running."

"Za točak se bršljan ne hvata." Igor mumbled with a smile.

Iris looked at him, "What does that mean?"

"Ivy doesn't grow on a wheel." Igor translated. "It's a proverb, I suppose."

"I do suffer from a destructive form of escapism." Iris shrugged. "My mother spent all of her life firmly rooted, caged even. And we all rebel against our parents one way or another."

"Caged how?"

It was Iris's turn to chuckle, "I'm not telling you more unless you tell me more."

"Fair enough." Igor nodded. "To answer your previous question, I don't know if she's happy. I tried to make her happy, possibly more than it was my responsibility. But she lost her husband, her partner, the one she's gone to Serbia for. And perhaps leaving the place would have meant leaving him."

"I bet she's proud of you." Iris said.

"I don't know." Igor looked to the calm sea, the wine in his glass slowly disappearing. "Despite all the money, I think she's sad I haven't stayed there, built myself a house and a family."

"Forgive me if this feels like I'm meddling," Iris bit her lower lip, "but do you think she might have latched onto you? Considering you lost your father when you were..."

"Twelve." Igor cut in. Iris frowned with sympathy, unable to imagine how hard that must have been for him. For a twelve year old to lose a father, a role-model. "And you're right. I had to take on the role of a provider. Not entirely, of course, she worked her entire life. But there were three of us on one salary, my mother, brother and I. And I was the elder brother."

"Do you want her to come here?" Iris asked, taking in the mundanity of the story. Such common things - broken families, dead parents, lack of money - yet so inhumanly difficult to handle, life-altering and at the end, heart-breaking.

"I do." Igor admitted. "I'd buy her a piece of land, transfer my father's body here. Maybe she'd want to come then."

Without warning, he grabbed the glass and stood up. Iris followed him with her eyes.

He grinned, "Care for a swim?"

Iris's brows furrowed in confusion, "What about the wine?"

"We'll take it to the shore, come on." He offered a hand.

Iris glanced at the black water and the moon reflecting off the surface. This entire night felt like diving deep and Iris had no need for air yet.