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I smirk. “You do know psychiatrists go through medical school and residency, and I’m very, very good with a scalpel.”

Without waiting for his response, I spin around and walk toward the stairs, head held high, even as frenetic energy pulses inside me.

Unprofessional. Pathetic. Ridiculous, Olivia.He’s my best friends’ older brother, my freakin’ patient. He’s fucking unhinged chaos. Everything about him screams no, stay away, approach in a hazmat suit.

My conscience hurls insults at me and the steady, rule-following Olivia is disappointed.

But deep inside, a latent part of my soul shakes with excitement, desperate to break free.

Carpe diem, break the rules. Be brave.

If Mia were here, she’d drag every little juicy detail out of me, a sly smile of approval on her face.

A sharp ray of heat hits my back and golden rays suddenly bathe the deck as the sun makes a reappearance from behind the clouds.

For the first time in a long time, I’m awake and alive.

As I turn into the winding staircase, I can’t help but look back at the infuriating man.

But the spot he was standing at is empty, like the last ten minutes have been a figment of my fevered imagination.

My heart spasms, the strange excitement deflating like air leaking out of a punctured tire.

It’s then I know.

If I’m not careful around Rex Anderson, not only is my professional reputation at stake.

But my body, and quite possibly…my heart.

Chapter Thirteen

“Smile, sweetheart,” I murmur,curling Bree to my side as our luxury tender boat sweeps us toward Tragonisi Island Caves, located off the southeast coast of Mykonos.

Unfortunately, the damn Greg Masters, the sleazy bastard fromGossip Times, is also here, watching us like a vulture. Fuck Maxwell for insisting on Ron to tag along on this trip. It’s the right PR move—staging controlled photo ops to show all is well with me and the cruise.

But it’s so damn annoying.

Bree stiffens, her face flushed from the sun beating down on us. She’s sitting ramrod straight, and I inwardly groan.

With me sleeping less than three hours a night, the random blackouts occurring more frequently, I’m not on my A-game and am most definitely going out of my mind.

But even I can smell the bullshit.

We can’t sell a fake fling if I don’t even believe it myself. But I need the press and public to buy the cover—that she’s just my usual arm candy, like on every other vacation. Because everyone knows Rex Anderson doesn’t do relationships.

And if she’s just another pretty distraction, The Association won’t look twice. The women I used to be seen with? Fame-chasing models and actresses, not someone who’d risk everything to hack and take down a criminal network. That’s the game—hiding her in plain sight by giving her the ultimate spotlight. It’s a calculated risk.

But damn it, we aren’t selling it.

Grabbing the glass of cucumber water, I give Bree my toothpaste commercial worthy smile.

Her eyes widen when I press the water into her hands. “Drink up, sweetheart. As much as I love women swooning at my feet, I don’t want you fainting inside the caves and falling into the water. Then I’d have to perform CPR. Not that I’m complaining. But you might not need CPR with me nearby. I restart hearts with my presence.”

An incredulous snort reaches my ears and I freeze, recognizing the sound before I turn around.

Olivia, clad in a one-piece black swimsuit and a white cover up, looking as perfectly put together as ever, shakes her head and turns toward the turquoise waters, her camera in her hand. It’s interesting. I see her carrying that thing everywhere and it looks like an older model. I wonder why she doesn’t have something new and shiny or use her phone to take pictures like most tourists.

A conundrum, the infuriating woman.