Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“I thought I made myself perfectly clear this afternoon, Ms. Hughes.”
My eyes narrow like I’m pondering some great mystery. “I’ve never known someone to go through the trouble to amass a collection of journalists on board a boat and then deny them the thing they’ve been hired to do. Is it a power trip or some other game you’re playing?”
“Write about the boat, Ms. Hughes.”
His tone is a biting warning I blow right past.
“I’d rather write about you. Scratch that. My boss would rather I write about you.” I lift a shoulder, feigning indifference. “I couldn’t care one way or another.”
Tyson’s booming laugh jars me into the realization that I’ve stooped too low. Phillip’s dragged me down to his level. An apology is on the tip of my tongue, but Tyson speaks first.
“Sienna, I was about to go over and chat with Ms. Patel for a moment. Care to join me?”
“Oh sure! I actually have a few questions for her,” Sienna says, clearly eager to leave me all alone with Phillip.
The moment Tyson leads Sienna away, Phillip steps closer to me, emphasizing our size difference. My heels don’t cut it. My makeup and dress barely feel like armor anymore. I can smell his spiced cologne. The heady scent binds around me, tethering me to him like a rope.
His scalding blue eyes practically sear me. “I find your obstinance incredibly annoying.”
“And I find your rudeness ridiculously unprofessional. Have you treated every journalist here the way you’ve treated me?”
“Absolutely not. I’ve been nothing but respectful to them.”
I can’t help but laugh at how rude he is! “Is this all because of what happened when we were barely teenagers? Because I do actually regret it.”
“So you admit you did tamper with the cord?”
I restrain an eye roll. I’m not against apologizing to him. I would have led with that straight away the first moment I saw him if I thought there was a chance he remembered me. But since then, we seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. This tension between us seems to make it hard for me to say the right thing.
“Yes. I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear?”
He shrugs coolly. “Maybe before. Now, though, it’s done. I’ve made up my mind, and I’ve always been stubborn.”
“And proud.”
He doesn’t even deny it.
“This is my career we’re talking about here. Not some juvenile trivia game!”
He doesn’t respond to this, and I’m left to take a deep breath and regroup, to try to salvage as much of this exchange as I possibly can.
“What am I supposed to do?” I ask, softening my voice, trying to appeal to the humanity that must exist deep down inside him.
“Oh, all right. I’ll help.” For a second, hope flares inside me like a flame. He leans in, taunting me like a fish on a line. “Here’s what you’re going to do. When we get to the next port, you’re going to take your pencil and notepad. Got it? Make sure you have your phone or recorder, too, whatever it is you journalists like to use for interviews. You’re going to tuck everything into your bag—all your belongings, actually—and head toward deck five and disembark. If you promise to never bother me again, I’ll even pay for your flight home.”
I wish I could bring my high heel down onto his foot, hard. “I’m not leaving.”
His tone is smug and final. “You won’t win.”
I unfurl a teasing smile. “I suppose all I can do is try.”
Then I tip back the last of my champagne—aware of his focus on my berry-stained lips—before I force the empty glass into his hand, turn on my heel, and walk away.
God, it’s satisfying.
I feel his gaze pinned on me like it’s a real tangible thing. A cuff around my neck. A belt around my waist.
I’m buzzing with energy, though I don’t fully understand the private smile that unfurls across my lips.
He didn’t agree to an interview, so why do I feel like I just won?
Chapter Six
CASEY
It’s the second day of our cruise, and Key West, Florida, is our first port of call. I can see the gorgeous turquoise water just outside my window, but I’ve yet to make it out of bed. My printed itinerary lists an entire day’s worth of activities I can pick and choose from: gastronomical experiences, workout classes, painting lessons. I could have disembarked the ship at 7:00 a.m. for yoga on the beach, but it’s already 8:45. I don’t normally sleep in past 8:00, but I went to bed way too late last night. Sienna and I were up to no good. It started at dinner. They seated us side by side—clear across the room from Phillip.
In the dining hall, they’d arranged and decorated two long banquet tables. Phillip’s place card was at the head of the first table. Mine was at the foot of the opposite table. We might as well have been on two different continents. It can’t be a coincidence. He undoubtedly had me moved on purpose. The nerve.