Page 61 of Have To Be Mine

I stepped close to her and put my hand on her waist. “I need a kiss.”

She looked up at me. For just a second, I thought she was going to let me. Her eyes dropped to my mouth. Then she looked at me and I knew there was no chance.

She stepped back. “Dash, we’re in public. There are people around.”

“So?”

“So you’re a client. This campaign is still running. There are influencers and production staff and people with cameras staying in this hotel, and the last thing either of us needs is a picture of you pawing at your logistics consultant going viral.” She held my gaze steadily. “I’m not one of your pool models. I’m not an accessory for your afternoon.”

The words were said with zero feeling. Like we hadn’t shared last night. I pulled my hand back.

“I know that,” I said.

“Do you?”

I looked at her for a moment. She kept the towel clutched in both hands, putting just enough distance between us that there was no confusing what she was saying.

One step forward. Half a step back. That was the rhythm of us, apparently.

“You weren’t worried about anyone seeing us last night.”

“We were in a cafe.”

I nodded as it all started to click into place. What she meant was she was drunk. It was dark. No one could see us. But in the bright light of day, she wanted nothing to do with me. She didn’t want to be one of many.

I’d been called a playboy a thousand times by a thousand people and it had never once bothered me.

It bothered me now. “I’ve got things to do. The pool guy knows you’re here. He’ll get you anything you want. Enjoy the day off.”

“Dash, wait.”

I walked away. She’d hurt my feelings. I wasn’t going to stick around and let her see the damage she had done. I got her message loud and clear.

20

KRISTA

Istood in the lobby of the Mykonos hotel, slathered in so much aloe vera I looked like I’d been dipped in slime. I was seriously contemplating whether murder could be justified under international law.

My skin was on fire. Not a sun-kissed glow. No, this was the kind of burn that came from rage-napping by a pool for three hours after being emotionally dismissed by an infuriating billionaire who couldn’t handle one moment of boundaries. He fed me two daiquiris and then left.

I’d waited for Dash to come back yesterday. Waited like an idiot. When he didn’t, I’d fallen asleep in the sun, and now I looked like a lobster wearing cargo pants. No one bothered to wake me up and let me know I was well done on the front.

The ferry ride to Mykonos had been silent. Dash sat on the opposite side of the deck, sunglasses on, scrolling through his phone. I sat with my laptop, pretending to work while my sunburn screamed and my brain replayed our pool conversation on an endless loop.

I’m not one of your pool models.

Why had I said that? Why had I pushed him away when all I’d wanted was for him to kiss me senseless in broad daylight and not care who saw?

Because I was terrified. That’s why. Terrified of being another conquest. Another name on a very long list. I didn’t want the crew to assume I was just the chick sleeping with the boss. I needed them to take me seriously, and if they thought I was his bed warmer, they wouldn’t.

“We need to go check on the talent,” I said when he strolled into the lobby. I had called him twenty minutes ago. He was clearly making me wait.

Dash barely looked up from his phone. “They’re fine. I’ve been in touch with them.”

“When was the last time you actually checked?”

“Yesterday. They said everything was great.”