Page 59 of Hate To Be Mine

Mustique. I would bet money she’d never been. The billionaire playground was a dream. I’d only been twice, but it was unforgettable.

And private.

The crew was in good spirits too. Load-in went smoothly. All the equipment was transported to the location without incident. Everyone was working together like a well-oiled machine. Even the models showed up on time, which felt like a minor miracle.

I spotted Bernadette near the equipment staging area, talking to one of the lighting guys about proper cable management. Her hair was back in its usual severe bun, and she was wearing linen pants and a sleeveless blouse that looked professional but tropical.

She was buzzing around like a worker bee.

I grabbed two coffees from the craft services setup and made my way over. The lighting guy saw me coming and diplomatically excused himself.

“Morning,” I said, offering her one of the coffees. “How’s my favorite nerd doing?”

She took the coffee, and for a second, our fingers brushed. Her cheeks flushed slightly, and a small, private smile crossed her face. The kind of smile that said she was remembering last night too.

I knew it.

There was no way she couldn’t be thinking about me and what I did to her.

“I’m well, thank you,” she said, perfectly professional. But her eyes were warm. “Good morning.”

We stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, sharing something the rest of the crew couldn’t see.

Then she broke the moment, glancing at her watch. “I should run the safety briefing. We’re shooting near those volcanic rocks today, and there are some specific protocols.”

“Right. Yeah. Do your thing, Little Bee.”

She frowned at me. I raised my brow and waited for her to say something. Instead she just shook her head and went back to what she was doing.

She gathered the crew with a sharp whistle. The noise went straight to my dick. I hadn’t known she could whistle like that. I didn’t want her whistling in bed but watching her take command was hot.

She launched into a quick, efficient safety meeting. Proper footwear for the rocky terrain. Hydration stations. Emergency protocols. She’d streamlined it since the bingo game, making it informative without being tedious.

When she finished, I stepped up for my pep talk.

“Alright, people. Today’s going to be great. We’ve got perfect weather, perfect location, and the perfect team. The A-Team. Let’s make some beautiful images and have fun doing it. Questions?”

No questions. Just eager faces ready to work.

“Then let’s do this.”

We traded off like that throughout the morning—Bernadette handling safety and logistics, me handling creative direction and morale. It was seamless in a way I hadn’t expected it could be with her around. It was like we’d been working together for years instead of barely a week.

At one point, I heard one of the production assistants mutter something about Mom and Dad getting along.

I pretended not to hear it, but internally, I winced. People were noticing. That was dangerous. We said we’d be careful, keep things professional. I knew she did not want her reputation tarnished by the likes of me.

But as I watched Bernadette crouch down to check the stability of a rock formation where we’d be positioning a model, sunlight catching her hair, I found it hard to care.

We were working among volcanic rock formations, using the dramatic landscape as a backdrop for some of Elizabeth’s designs. The models looked incredible. The photographers were getting shots that would definitely make the final campaign.

It was brutally hot and everyone was sweating through their clothes by midday. But the shots were worth it. Dramatic. Powerful. Exactly the vibe we’d been going for. The makeup team had to blot the models every five minutes, but they were all troopers.

And Bernadette looked good. Even sweaty and flushed from the heat, checking her tablet and making notes and doing her job with that intense focus she brought to everything. I caught myself staring more than once and had to physically redirect my attention.

During a break for wardrobe changes, I found myself standing near the edge of the location, looking out at the ocean, feeling something close to contentment.

Life was good. The shoot was going well. My family would be here soon to see the success. Elizabeth’s designs were going to launch beautifully. I was proving to everyone—and to myself—that I could handle this level of responsibility.