Arrabella?
With Patrick.
Poppy hurries inside, sets down her gin, grabs the pair of courtesy binoculars on the desk, and nearly trips in her haste to get back onto the balcony.
Heart racing, she focuses the scopes, zooming in on the couple. Her heart stalls. Her breath stops.
It’s her.
Lady Arrabella Fairfax. Slender as a whippet. Creamy-white complexion. Oversize shades. Vivid red lipstick like a slash of blood across her white face. Arrabella grabs the handles of two suitcases and begins to run on her wedged espadrilles along the sidewalk to the terminal.
Behind her, Patrick McGregor, the only biological son of the late Angus McGregor, thrusts a wad of cash at the driver and grabs hold of the remaining two suitcases. He starts to chase after Arrabella. The wheels of their bags bounce along the paving behind them.
Poppy lowers her scopes.
They’re coming on the cruise. Patrick, who was suddenly cut from Angus’s will right before he was found dead. And Arrabella, Patrick’s charming, stunning, cunning, and hungrily ambitious fiancée.
Lillith’s words sift through Poppy’s mind.
I’m surrounded by jackals, Poppy. They all want a piece of me ...
Everything has just changed. Poppy has competition. The worst kind. And they’ll all be locked together for nine days and nine nights. She needs a new plan. Fast.
She needs to sharpen her knives.
Arrabella
The sun burns down on Arrabella as she races toward the terminal with Patrick hot on her heels. Their Rome flight was delayed, then Athens traffic trapped them. They’ve missed their cruise check-in window, and now another bigger ship has started checking in thousands of arriving guests. TheBlack Orchidis preparing to cast off.
She can’t miss this voyage. Won’t. Everything rides on it: Patrick’s fortune. Lillith’s will. Her own future.
And she doesn’t trust Lillith’s new assistant, Poppy. That church-lady facade hides a Machiavellian streak—Arrabella is certain of it. Maybe even a murderer. Angus looked vigorous over Christmas, still feisty enough to feud with and disinherit Patrick. Then suddenly he’s dead? Right after Poppy Buchanan moved into the castle? And Poppy is the one who “found” him?
Arrabella spots the baggage drop ahead. She runs faster. As she glances back over her shoulder for Patrick, the toe of her sandal catches a piece of paving. She lurches forward, releasing the baggage handles as she flies into the air and flails wildly in an effort to stop her fall. Just before she hits the pavement, Patrick grabs her around the waist, stopping her tumble.
For a moment she freezes, panting, sweating, her heart galloping. Patrick gently lifts her fully upright and steadies her back onto her feet. His lean limbs are strong against her body, and his glacial-blue eyes—usually so wintry—sparkle with mirth. A grin cracks across his face.
“Christ, it’s not funny, Patrick,” she snaps as she pushes him off and dusts her dress. “I could have knocked my bloody teeth out.”
He laughs, full-throated. “Hey, but I got you, babe.”
She snatches up the bag handles. “Good thing you remember some rugby tackle moves, despite complaining about your dad pushing you into the sport.”
His smile fades. A darkness flickers into his features, but just briefly. He turns away, gathers his own bags, and she realizes it was a mistake. Patrick hasn’t wanted to discuss Angus since the big Christmas blowup that saw him being axed from the will.
Since then, Patrick has grown increasingly distant from Arrabella, but things changed in Venice, where they stopped en route to join the cruise. The pasta, wine, late nights, lazy mornings, long walks through historic alleys, people-watching in plazas. Incredible sex. It worked magic. For the first time in months, she felt she wasn’t losing him.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“It’s okay. Let’s just do this. We’re not missing the trip now. Not after all your badgering.” He starts toward the building entrance.
Guilt shadows her as she follows him, recalling their countless arguments about the trip.
“I don’t want to go on a cruise.”
“Why not?”
“I abhor the idea—thousands of people crammed together for days on end? Are you joking? No thanks.”
