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)
For the first time since boarding the ship, I have to be brave and head down to the common areas on my own. Without Sienna by my side, I almost feel naked. At least I know right where to go. They’re serving breakfast in the main dining room until 10:30 a.m., so I head there to get a little something to eat, preferably something carb heavy and sugary. I’d kill for coffee too. I could have made a cup in my suite, but something tells me Aurelia’s crew knows how to whip up something a little more delicious than an espresso shot.
Thanks to Ms. Patel’s tour yesterday, I have no trouble navigating the ship. Decks one through three are the lowest decks and are meant for staff only. Decks nine and ten have the observation lounge and library. Decks six, seven, and eight mainly house suites and small cabins. The real action is on deck five. There’s the reception desk, a salon, a spa, a high-end boutique, and a pool. Deck four has the food. There’s a fancy French restaurant called La Dame, which is run by a Michelin Star chef and only open for dinner; a semicasual Italian restaurant called Roma, open for lunch and dinner; and the main dining room, which serves every meal. It’s beautiful inside. They’ve carried the neutral-gray and cool-silver tones into the room and added deep-teal fabric on the chairs for a pop of color. It’s a large space, able to host almost every guest on board all at once, but they’ve designed it to give the illusion that it’s much more intimate. No austere cafeteria here.
Walls jut out from the perimeter of the room to create private nooks for certain exclusive tables. It’s not enough privacy, however, because I see Phillip immediately upon entering. He’s at a back table, his attention on his phone.
I can’t believe he’s alone.
A smiling host informs me that the dining room is open seating. I can sit at any table I like, and I nod and move along, already certain of where I’m heading.
I have no choice.
I have to take full advantage.
Sink or swim, Sunshine.
Phillip doesn’t look up from his phone until I’m tugging out the chair across from him.
Bold doesn’t cut it. This is downright insane.
The waiter is there before Phillip can comprehend what I’m doing.
“Would you like to start with a coffee or tea? We have a full range of coffee options on the back of the menu if you’d like to glance over it.”
“A latte please, with a splash of vanilla,” I say at the same time Phillip cuts in.
“Bring it in a to-go cup. She won’t be staying.”
The waiter doesn’t even bother to check this with me before he hurries away, eager to do Phillip’s bidding.
Phillip’s gaze tries to flay me open. “I don’t recall inviting you to sit.”
My smile doesn’t waver.
I’m not so bad mannered that I don’t realize I’ve broken quite a few social cues here. It’s just that with Phillip Woodmont, civility and politeness will get me nowhere. In fact, normal human social cues hold no weight with him at all.
I tip my head to the side, playing dumb. “Are you usually this rude so early in the morning?”
“No.”
“Ooh la la. Special treatment, then? I’m flattered. Humor me, though, considering my Advil hasn’t kicked in and my head is aching. The caffeine should help, but until then, let’s play nice.”
“There’s a slew of open tables. Pick any of them. Nurse your headache there.”
I pick up the napkin sitting on my plate—artfully arranged to look like an origami bird. “How delightful.”
His eyes narrow on me. He’s obviously perplexed. It’s clear that he’s used to a certain way of life (i.e., he speaks and the world listens). He’s probably forgotten what insubordination feels like. It’ll be my pleasure to remind him.
Whatever searing comment he’s thinking now as he studies my face, he contains it. A pity. I’d love to know what he thinks about me. He might have grown up into a man who holds all the power, but I’m no shrinking violet.
At least . . . I didn’t think I was.
Sitting here across from Phillip has my cheeks flushing, my hand slightly unsteady as I smooth my napkin across my lap.
I swallow past my nerves. “I promise I won’t take up too much of your time.”
I reach down into my purse to grab my phone. It’s only a swipe and a click, and then I have my trusty recording app open. I slide my phone across the table set with crystal stemware and a gardenia floating in a bowl of water. Its fragrance almost masks his cologne.
“You mind?”
“Actually, I do,” he says haughtily.
“Righto.”
I expected this, obviously. I reach forward and make a show of stabbing my phone screen with my index finger to pause the recording. Hopefully, it sends a clear message that I’m a team player. We can do this his way.