The Lion's Den(120)

The inside is plush with thick green carpet and creamy leather seats, three on each side. Eric presses a button, and a partition rises between the pilots and us. He slides into the seat next to me and hands me a pair of headphones.

I feel a slight sway as we lift off, and slip the headphones over my ears. Immediately the deafening thrum of the blades subsides and Eric’s voice crackles to life. We’re both laughing, giddy with relief.

I’m the first to catch my breath. “Jesus Christ, Eric, couldn’t you have told me Vinny was on my side all along? I was terrified.”

“He wasn’t,” Eric says. I raise my eyebrows. “Vinny and I were always cool, but he’d stopped working for my dad last year when his mom got sick. I didn’t know he’d gone back until you mentioned he was on the boat with you. And still, I couldn’t be a hundred percent sure how loyal he was to John. But the minute you threw out the sea urchin SOS, I knew I had to do something fast, so I took the chance and called him. I didn’t tell him about you until I knew he was on my side.”

“And your grandmother?”

“I’d been in touch with her this week. Once I shared everything, she was more than happy to help by arranging that meeting with John.”

He reaches under the seat and slides out a built-in icebox and bar caddy, from which he extracts a bottle of champagne and two flutes. But before he can pop the cork, I put my hand on his arm. “We need to call the Coast Guard, to make sure someone is actually looking for Amythest,” I say.

“Vinny’s on it,” he says. “And we’ll go in person in the morning.” He takes my hand. “I’m sorry you lost a friend.”

“Me too,” I say, my heart heavy. “She was—one of a kind. I think you would have liked her.”

His eyes rest on mine, the lights of Saint-Tropez glimmering out the window, and I know all my reservations about him were unnecessary. “Summer mentioned you kept a picture of me in your bedside table.”

He nods. “Because yours is the face I want to see every morning when I wake up.” He moves closer, a mischievous smile playing around his lips. My entire body tingles. His gaze travels to my lips. “Are you finally going to let me kiss you?”

I nod, and his lips are on mine. I melt into him, and the line between us blurs. I’ve imagined this moment so many times, it’s almost too much. Though usually when I imagined it, the helicopter headsets weren’t getting in the way.

“Where are we going?” I murmur between kisses.

“There’s a beautiful little hotel near Cannes where we can stay the night,” he says, nuzzling my neck.

All I want is to be alone with him, completely undisturbed. “We may need a few nights,” I say, again drawing his mouth to mine. “How far is it?”

He looks out the window and points. “See that outcropping of lights? It’s the next town.”

He pops the cork on the champagne and pours us each a glass. I feel the now familiar fizz of bubbles in my throat, the residual sweetness on my tongue. “I have to tell you,” I confess, “I don’t really like champagne.”

He laughs. “You know? Neither do I. So we’ll change it out.”

Right. Because this is all his now. Or rather, the company’s—which is his. The repercussions of what just transpired are only beginning to ricochet in my mind. Thirty million dollars. That’s going to take a long, long time to sink in.

“To be honest, there’s a lot about this lifestyle I don’t…” I pause, thinking of how to put it without sounding insolent. “That I don’t ever want to be a part of.”

“I know.” He gently caresses my cheek. “And you won’t be. We won’t be. I promise.”

“But now you have to run this billion-dollar company. How is it not going to devour your life?”

“I’m going to sell it.” He breaks into a smile. “To someone who’ll do the same amount of good with it that my father did bad.”

“Who?” I ask.

“You met him, actually. Charles Bricknell.”

My eyes widen with delight. “I liked him,” I declare. “And his wife. Marlena. She was fabulous. And their son, too.”

“Magic Mike.” He grins. Then, off my quizzical look, “Long story, better told by him.”

“But…you know them through your dad?”

“Sort of. They were never friends, but were in the same social circle. Marlena happened to see some of my art at a party at Grandview when I was in my teens, and took an interest. She’s the one who encouraged me to apply to art school and everything. Charles has wanted to buy John out for years so I knew he’d jump at the opportunity. I wasn’t sure he’d want to be involved with bringing him down, though, since he’d been one of his investors in the past. But once I had enough evidence from the servers on the boat to bury John, I reached out to Charles, and he volunteered to invite him aboard his yacht and record their conversation.”

I remember the discussion I’d heard parts of aboard the Tyger, through the office door. “So that’s why we were invited to Marlena’s birthday party last-minute.”

Eric nods. “They’re good people. I trust them.”

It gives me immense solace to think of John’s company in Charles’s hands. “Good.”