“Cade, hold on.” Ellie tightened her grip, leaning closer to whisper with a teasing smile. “Maybe wait until after I get paid before you contemplate murder?”
A small smile pulled at my lips. “Good to know your priorities.”
She laughed. “Says the guy who only stopped me from drowning so I’d help rebuild a sandcastle.”
My smile widened. “Touché.”
I sent my brother a rude hand gesture, which made him laugh, before walking with Ellie to the yacht with her hand nestled securely in mine.
I had to admit she was right. Even though we’d lost, it’d been…fun.
But I still swore that was the last race I’d ever lose to Harrison.
thrown to the wolves
. . .
Ellie
Ellie’s Guide toProfessional CuddlingBeing a Fake Fiancée, Tip #13: Fake it till you make it.
Whiskey glared at me like I’d heartlessly abandoned him for life instead of spending one night on the beach while he was safe and sound on a luxury boat.
“Don’t you give me that look,” I warned him, crouching in front of his sun lounger and petting him. Mac lay passed out on the lounger beside my cat, with a paperback resting on his belly. “I know you’re not actually mad. You had loads of fun watching that playlist of your favorite show all night.”
A soft purr rumbled from Whiskey, and he headbutted my chin.
My heart melted into a puddle. “Aw. I love you, too, buddy.”
My fingers bumped into something flat and smooth under Whiskey’s collar that stopped me short. “Oh, what’s this?”
I tugged gently, until a plain paper bookmark came free—making me blink. He’d stolen a bookmark and somehow tucked it under his collar?
My eyes narrowed on Whiskey’s innocent mug before glancing at the sleeping bodyguard. “Does this belong to Mac?”
Whiskey gave a long blink before looking away.
“Lord Whiskerson, you naughty boy,” I scolded, booping his nose. “What have I taught you about stealing? It’swrong.”
He flicked his tail with disinterest, and my frown deepened.
“This isn’t okay. I was just telling the girls about your progress at our last Pet Bandits Anonymous meeting?—”
“Miss Darling?” Out of nowhere, a crewmember around my age in a spotless all-white uniform popped up next to Whiskey’s lounger, and I jumped. She wore a practiced smile, as if she were used to seeing guests talk to their cats. “We’re ready to begin your spa treatments.”
I blinked, dropping my hand from Whiskey’s fur. “…Spa treatments?”
She nodded. “We have a carefully curated list of treatments scheduled for you today as part of the itinerary Dr. Lovejoy prepared for everyone. The other women have already begun their sessions.”
My brows rose. The boat actually had its ownspa? That was pretty cool.
But I’d never been to a spa before. I wasn’t sure of the protocol, which felt like something the fiancée of a rich guy should be familiar with.
I guess I’d have to wing it.
“Um, all right.” I cleared my throat and glanced around the deck, which was empty except for Mac snoring on the lounger next to Whiskey’s. “Thank you very much. I’m just not sure where the spa is, if you could point me in the right direction, please?”
With a pleasant smile, she bowed at the waist. “Follow me.”
