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 think we should allow Angela to send approval and—”
His sentence gets cut short when the line goes dead. The connection’s lost again.
My anger threatens to boil over.
I have half a mind to chuck my phone off the side of the balcony, but fortunately, I come to my senses. Since Aurelia is equipped with exceedingly good Wi-Fi, I pull up a new email on my phone and type quickly, responding to Angela and Gary.
You do not have my approval. Do not reply to Bon Voyage yet.
There.
I’ve pumped the brakes for the time being. It feels good to regain the upper hand, exert control over my life again.
Casey’s email surprised me when it popped up on my phone this afternoon. I was in a meeting with Tyson and the engineers. I wasn’t even going to check my phone when it buzzed, but something compelled me to pull it out of my pocket. When I saw Casey’s name flash across my screen, I excused myself and walked away from the group, opening the email to see she’d mimicked my style—no text in the body, just a lone attachment at the bottom.
I knew, no matter which way Casey sliced it, I wasn’t going to like what she had to write about me. You’re either someone who delights in seeing your name in print or you’re not. I don’t want to be the subject of public scrutiny. I don’t want anyone prying into my life and poking around as if it’s their right to do so just because I come from a prominent family.
Even still, I wasn’t prepared to read Casey’s personal take, and that’s exactly what the article was—mostly Casey’s opinion about me. Things she has no business discussing, namely my desperation for privacy and my struggle to connect with others. Casey doesn’t understand what it’s like to be a man in my position, to live life inside a fishbowl. When I first met her when we were young, we were able to escape that for a bit. She knew nothing about me or my past. As middle schoolers, we shared lunch together just like two normal kids. We saw and accepted each other for who we were, separate from any outside influence. In my world, that’s a rare gift.
Keeping people at a distance has always been my preference. Money is so compelling, too compelling. I have a hard time trusting people, especially their motives. I’ve experienced enough moochers and leaches, sycophants and users to understand that most people are best kept at arm’s length.
I never made it back to the meeting with Tyson. I took the stairs up to my suite and reread the article a second time, deciding I hated it even more than I first thought.
I was on the phone with my team ten minutes later. We’ve talked on and off for the better part of the afternoon, and now, after everything, I still don’t really care what they have to say about it. So they have degrees in public relations and twenty years of experience in the field and a huge company backing them—big whoop. They’re not the subject of the article; I am. If I don’t want to give my consent, I won’t. Simple as that. Bon Voyage will be slapped with every lawsuit I can throw at them.
Casey is the one who’ll be fucked in all of this.
Casey.
My feelings for her are as complex as they come. I want to shield her from my wrath and unleash it on her, all at once. Freud would have a field day with me. My mother, too, would love to know that a woman has gotten under my skin in this way. She’s always said it would happen eventually. I laughed her off. Now who’s laughing?
Not me!
The morning after Casey and I slept together, I convinced myself of all the reasons to stay away from her for good, and yet as the hours ticked by, I felt more and more desperate to see her. I would have taken any measly excuse to talk to her, but she was off the boat most of yesterday and nowhere to be found today. She’s been busy, apparently.
I should have pressed her last night, asked her what her plans were moving forward with the story, but I wasn’t thinking about any of that when Tyson and I bumped into Sienna and her on the dock. Casey in her sundress, her long hair loose and a little tangled from the wind. Her lips plump and pink and tempting enough that I thought of kissing her in front of Tyson and Sienna, just laying one on her like a damn fool.
I’m no one’s fool, though. Least of all hers.
Now, I have had a member of my staff hunt her down and issue a summons for her to come to my suite, and I feel a little like a dickhead dictator demanding she present herself for her royal beheading.