Page 4 of A Perfect Disaster

I shake my head in my mind and return to her eyes with my dignity restored, though hastily ironed on.

“You know how to make instructions seem like mere decorative suggestions.”

Maika raises an eyebrow.

“And you know how to turn a five-minute meeting into a full-blown international trial,” she counters.

“It’s a talent I’ve perfected over the years, actually.”

“Exhausting, no doubt.”

“Effective, above all.”

What a little battle. What a little battle. Please, let all the gods come down and have mercy on me.

Because quickly, something resembling a genuine smile touches her lips. And my body, utterly treacherous, detects it as if it were a flare in the middle of the night.

“I see you still have an answer for everything,” she murmurs.

“And you still think that’s an invitation to argue forever.”

“Oh, isn’t it?”

The question hangs between us, too close to something that shouldn’t exist. My pulse quickens, and I hate it with all my might. I hate that Maika can still raise my body temperature with a single sentence. I hate that a tiny part of me—stupid and probably deprived of oxygen for too long—remembers the sexual tension between us as if it had been something beautiful. Because it wasn’t. It was more like a trap. And I don’t fall into the same one twice.

“Listen to me carefully,” I say, taking a step toward her. Maika doesn’t back down. Of course not. That would be too easy. “This cruise is important to me. Much more than you can imagine. I won’t tolerate any mistakes, improvisations, or entertainment stunts that put the passengers, the crew, or my own patience at risk.”

Her eyes sparkle with a familiar gleam.

“Is your patience included in the protocol, too?”

“In many appendices. And with warnings in bold, so you’ll be sure to check them.”

This time she does smile openly. And I have to clench my teeth because I shouldn’t find this the least bit funny. Not at all.

“All right,” she agrees. “I’ll work with you within the established guidelines.”

“You’ll work by the rules, period.”

“What a cold way to say, ‘Welcome aboard, Maika, it’s so good to see you after all this time.’”

“My joy is still up there, on the deck.”

“What a shame. I was actually looking forward to this reunion.”

I look at her in disbelief.

“Why do you always flirt when someone’s about to strangle you?”

Maika tilts her head and her smile becomes a little more dangerous.

“Because I don’t think that person would dare to actually do it.”

My heart gives an absurd, loud, and ridiculous thud in my chest. The hallway seems to run out of air. I don’t know what to say, and that irritates me almost as much as her presence. Because I always have an answer ready, a wall up, an elegant or cruel way out, depending on the situation.

So I do the only sensible thing, which is to simply pull myself together.

“Don’t confuse self-control with a lack of desire.”