Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Watching her reflection in the mirror, I say, “Daisy came to see me.” I’m not sharing the fact because I think it’s important as much as I’m doing it to break the silence.
Her hand stills on the brush. “What? Here? In Corsica?”
“Yes.”
She puts the brush down. “What did she want?”
“The deal with Powell. According to her, it was only a matter of time before Powell was going to sign with her. She was upset that I snatched it away from under her nose.”
A frown pleats Sabella’s brow. “Why would she want the deal?”
“She started her own import and export business.” My lips quirk. “She said you inspired her.”
Sabella bites her lip for a second, seemingly contemplating the statement before she replies. “She paid me a visit in Cape Town. She wanted me to talk to Ryan about involving her in the business. I told her she was wasting her time. When she said she merited a cut of the shares, I suggested she start her own company. I didn’t mean it so literally. I only said that because she hinted at how good she was at it, having learned all the tricks from my dad.”
Chuckling, I tuck my shirt into my pants. “She told me more or less the same thing. So that’s why she showed up on my doorstep. After she learned that Ryan didn’t inherit the business, she wanted her cut from me. She went as far as suggesting we work together.”
“With you?” Sabella exclaims, turning on the bench to face me. “What did you say?”
“I told her to go home. I have no interest in working with Daisy Remington.”
She nods and falls silent, her beautiful eyes distant as she slips away from me deep into her own thoughts.
The silence stretches again, and for the life of me, I can’t think of anything else to say. It’s ironic, seeing how much is trapped in my chest. So many unsaid words and unsolved problems. I have no clue how to untangle that crow’s nest of feelings, let alone put names to them or communicate them in comprehensible sentences.
Fuck.
I have to go.
Business is waiting.
I don’t want to leave her like this.
So I take my phone, activate a call on speaker, and hand it to her.
She looks from the phone ringing on her palm to my face.
“Sabella?” her mother answers. “Is that you?”
Sabella’s lips part with a silent gasp. Her voice breaks on the single word she utters. “Mom?”
“My goodness. Is that really you? Ryan gave me this number, but I couldn’t bring myself to dial it. I know it’s his.”
Sabella twists away from me, facing the window. “The phone is on speaker.”
“Oh.” The emotion vanishes from her mother’s tone. Instead, she turns business-like, no doubt understanding that I’m listening in. “How are you?”
“Good. How about you?”
“As well as can be expected.” Margaret adds with meaning, “After everything.”
“Are things all right at home?”
“Mattie and Jared are taking care of me, but I’m more interested in hearing your news.”
“There’s not much to say. The weather is turning.”
“Is it cold there?”
“Colder than in Great Brak River, but it’s not so bad.”
An awkward pause follows. Their words seemed to have dried up. Like ours.
Her mother breaks the silence with, “Did he tell you the good news? We’re still waiting for your answer.”
“Did who tell me?” Sabella asks. “What news?”
Margaret clears her throat. “Angelo. About National Geographic.”
Sabella turns her head and looks at me with a question—or rather an accusation—in her eyes.
Fuck. I forgot about that. With everything that’s happening at the moment, the fact that her mother would bring it up didn’t even cross my mind.
“What about National Geographic?” Sabella asks in a hoarse voice, not breaking our eye contact.
“They got hold of your shark video.”
“What? How? The only person I shared it with was my marine vertebrate professor.”
“Your professor sent me a very nice email. He asked how you were doing and said that he was still sorry to have lost such a bright student. Anyway, he said a certain Mrs. Powell contacted him after meeting you in Paris. She told him that you were collaborating on a shark awareness program and that you told her about the video but didn’t have the clip with you to show her.
“Don’t ask me how, but she convinced him to email her the video, which she forwarded to someone she knows at National Geographic. She called here to ask if I could get hold of you. Apparently, she forgot to exchange telephone numbers when you met, and Angelo didn’t return her calls. She sounds like a very nice lady. She reckons the video is too good to be buried in the university archives, and I thought it couldn’t do any harm to share it. I knew you wouldn’t mind.” Margaret exhales audibly. “I don’t even want to know how you managed to film it. They want permission to run it during the next Shark Week. Didn’t Angelo tell you?”