The Ruthless Gentleman(39)

I opened my mouth to speak, not quite knowing what to say, but before I could respond he continued.

“Look, you know I think you’re an amazing stewardess and a kick-ass tequila drinker. You also know I can pick up on chemistry a thousand miles off. It’s my superpower.”

Had I been flirting without knowing it? Had Neill picked up on the fact that me staying on board last night had something to do with Hayden? “I don’t know what you mean. Hayden has only wanted to deal with me since he came on board—”

“I also know you’re a terrible liar, so I’d prefer you didn’t say anything.” My stomach crashed to my knees. If Neill had picked up on something between us, then who else had? “Don’t let him take advantage.”

“As if,” I replied, trying to shrug off his comments as alarm bells began to ring in my ears.

“Hayden’s good looking and charming. I get it,” he continued. “But ask yourself if he’s worth losing your career for. Worth you not being able to help your family. You have a lot at stake, Avery, and I really want you to be happy. Just be careful.”

“I have to go.” I waved my hand in the air and spun to exit the galley before the weight pressing on my chest stopped me from breathing. I didn’t want to have this discussion with Neill. Hayden might be a paying guest, but he hadn’t pressured me to do anything I didn’t want to. He could read me—he’d known I wanted him.

Shit, as if I didn’t have enough to worry about not being able to speak to my dad, now Neill was talking about my chemistry with Hayden. If Neill could sense something then I needed to be more careful with how I interacted with Hayden before anyone else came to the same conclusion. And I definitely shouldn’t be kissing him or watching sunsets with him.

“Hayden,” I said when I almost bumped into him as I reached the dining room.

“I need you to collect something for me,” he said. His words were clipped and his jaw tight. What had happened since breakfast?

I exhaled and nodded. “Okay. That’s not a problem.” I could call my dad again on shore. We were moored off Marina di Andora, a small port in Northern Italy. From what I’d heard from the crew, there wasn’t much going on ashore but at least there was a pay phone.

“Where do you need me to go?”

He went to speak and then paused as he scanned my face. I looked away, unnerved by his ability to read me. I didn’t want him to see how much last night had affected me. How much I wanted him to slide his arms around me and pull me against him. He blinked and then cleared his throat.

“There’s a yacht supplies shop on Via St Michael. If you could pick up something from there, my person will find you.”

I was used to doing all sorts of things for clients, and fetching and carrying wasn’t unusual, except I was more accustomed to finding the nearest Gucci dealer and bringing back half a dozen bathing suits for clients or a specialty liquor store for some exclusive alcohol. Brown envelopes or boxes of documents weren’t the normal pickup. “Okay.”

“It’s just the latest versions of the legal documents. This draft will be crucial. I’ll be able to tell a lot about how easy it will be to conclude this deal.”

I took a step back from him. “No problem.”

He reached out and pressed his hand against my forearm. “Thank you.”

I froze, trying not to react to his touch, trying to block out the way his fingers felt on my skin.

He released me. “Can you go straight away?”

“Sure.”

Neill said he wanted me to be happy, but the only time I’d been truly, butterflies-in-the-stomach, grin-I-couldn’t-control happy on this charter was when I’d been with Hayden. Distance, even for a little while, was what I needed. Distance from the bad decisions I’d made last night. Distance from those damn butterflies and the pull in my chest every time I set eyes on Hayden Wolf.



I dialed again and then checked my watch. Where were they? Despite the expense I’d tried my dad’s cell and Michael’s but still nothing. I glanced back toward the tender, knowing I should get back.

Hayden was desperate for whatever was in the envelope I’d collected from the woman in the yacht supplies shop. It had been the same girl who had given me the envelope in Saint Tropez. She must be following him down the coast. I just wasn’t going to go back to the yacht without having spoken to my dad. It could be another two days before I got to speak to him again.

Our house voicemail clicked on and I hung up. I’d already left three messages. I dove into my tote and pulled out my address book. Luckily for me, I still used the small, pink address book I’d been given on my eighth birthday for all my important phone numbers and hadn’t had to rely on the numbers in my cell that I didn’t have. I’d call my aunt. She lived three blocks away, and I could get her to go around to check on my dad and Michael.

With the receiver tucked under my chin, I held my address book open with one hand while I punched in the numbers.

It felt like an hour and a half passed before the line finally connected. It rang and rang. Nothing. It was Sunday. They should be reading the paper and Michael should be on his Xbox. There was no reason for people not to be answering the phone.

Concern morphed into panic. What if something was wrong? What if Michael had collapsed or been told he’d never walk again and everyone was too upset to pick up?