Stranded with a Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #1)(16)

“Want me to loot it for you?”

Her stomach dropped. She shook her head, taking a step backward. “Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“It’s expensive, Logan. Don’t be ridiculous.”

He snorted. “The diamonds probably aren’t quality and I doubt that it’s worth the markup, but if you want it, I’ll get it for you.”

“No. We’ll get in trouble.”

“Bront?, there’s no one here. And I’m the . . . manager.” He seemed to pause on the word, as if it were unfamiliar.

“I don’t want it, Logan,” she warned him, feeling anxious. “Looting it is wrong, and you’d be crazy to risk being fired over something like that.”

He laughed. “They can’t fire me, but suit yourself.”

To her relief, he let it drop, and Bront? moved carefully away from the jewelry counter. In her experience, expensive gifts were inevitably the result of lies and betrayal. It made her think of her childhood, and the long weeks during which her father—a traveling salesman—had been gone, and her mother’s anxious waiting for him to return. He’d roll back into town after weeks away, with quickly waved-away excuses and a shower of presents for his wife and daughter. Her dreamy mother had always been flattered by the gifts of jewelry and excited to see her husband return home.

Now, as an adult, Bront? knew better. She knew that her father’s absences hadn’t been due to business as much as they’d been to see another woman, a girlfriend on the side. The presents he’d brought home were apologies more than gifts. She’d learned not to trust impulsive presents, because in Bront?’s eyes they were a way of hiding the truth, a distraction. And for some reason she didn’t want to put Logan into the same category as her smiling, lying father.

They hauled a bag of candy, the cooler of water, and a few other bags of miscellaneous supplies back to the stairwell that they’d established as their base of operations, since it was currently the only place they’d found that was above water. Once back at the stairwell, Bront? grabbed a water bottle, climbed a few steps, and sat drinking her fill. When Logan sat next to her, she passed the water bottle to him, holding the torch while he drank.

It sputtered and dropped sparks as she watched it. “How long do you think this will last?”

“Not long. We need to find something better.”

“We should check the rest of the resort, too. I’d hate to think of someone else trapped in the elevators, waiting for rescue.” She chewed her lip, thinking. She felt weak and tired, but someone still stuck in an elevator would feel much, much worse, and she didn’t want anyone dying while she sat a short distance away.

He nodded, finishing off the water bottle.

“Should we check the upper floors?”

“I’m not sure it’s wise,” Logan told her. “You saw how badly the roof was destroyed in the lobby. We don’t know that the other floors aren’t on the verge of collapse. We can take a look from outside tomorrow and decide then.”

“All right,” she agreed, then winced as her stomach growled. “I guess we should crack open those chocolate bars?”

“Or we could head to the kitchens,” he told her with a sideways glance. “See if there’s anything worth saving now that the power’s been off for a while.”

“Real food? Sign me up.” She got to her feet, feeling a burst of energy at the thought.

There were two kitchens in the hotel, one attached to each restaurant. The first one smelled strongly of dead fish and the roof looked as if it had fallen in, so they went to check the other instead. The second restaurant wasn’t nearly as destroyed, but the kitchen had slim pickings. The enormous refrigerators were full of marinating meat that would probably spoil fast. There was a walk-in freezer, and they opened it, both groaning with pleasure as the cool air puffed out and brushed over their heated skin.

“Still cold,” Logan told her, and gestured for Bront? to follow him in. “Might be cold for a bit longer if we keep the door closed.”

The freezer was full of dinner items—frozen chicken, frozen fish, and myriad packages of sides and desserts waiting to be prepared.

“We should eat some of this,” she told him. “Can we build a fire somewhere and cook some?”

“If the stove doesn’t work, yeah. Pick what you want to eat.”

They grabbed a few packages of chicken from the freezer and a large can of peaches from the pantry, and set about making dinner. Logan tested the stoves, and one of the gas ranges was working. They grabbed a skillet and began to cook the chicken, not talking. While they waited, Bront? found a can opener, opened the peaches, and offered Logan a fork.

He took it from her and speared a peach, and then quickly lifted it to his mouth and popped the dripping slice in.

Her stomach growled at the sight, and she quickly stuck her fork into a peach slice, lifting it to her mouth, her hand cupped underneath to catch the juices. The first bite was heaven—a sweet, sugary rush flooded her mouth, and the taste of peaches was overwhelming to her starved senses. She licked her fingers and leaned back against the counter. “I think that was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until just now.”

“We’ve had our minds on other things.”