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The man shakes his head. “Be right back with your omelet.”
“Thanks,” I say, feeling like this entire interaction was strange. I look at Enzo seated at the table, eyeing the pieces of paper I’m sure I was brought up to discuss, but I have no clue what they are or what needs to happen.
Langston sits to Enzo’s left. So I decide to take a seat next to Langston. No one would think that is strange. My heart aches to go sit next to Enzo, though. Being this far away from him is too far away.
“Should you be drinking that?” Langston whispers into my ear, as he eyes the drink.
“Yes? I don’t know. I googled it, and some coffee isn’t bad for the baby. But I really need to get in to see a doctor soon,” I say.
He nods.
Enzo spots our exchange and frowns.
I stiffen and avert my eyes. Do not look at him. My stomach will do little flips, my heart will race, my cheeks will flush, I’ll start drooling, and there will be no way that the entire ship won’t realize we are in love.
“Here’s your breakfast,” Denziel says.
“Thank you,” I say, digging into the food even though no one else is eating. All eyes are on me.
I’m about to speak when Archard enters. “It’s time for the vote.”
Vote. Maybe they are done punishing Enzo and will vote him back in.
“Since Clifton is at the hospital, I called him to get his vote. He voted for Kai.”
“Kai.”
“Kai.”
“Kai.”
“Kai.”
All five of them voted for me. My eyes are wide; I’m sure I look like a deer in headlights instead of the strong, confident leader they are expecting me to be. How could not one of them vote for Enzo?
Archard nods. “Kai will remain in charge until tomorrow at six when the next vote occurs.” He leaves and then all eyes are on me again.
“Um…” Shit, stop saying um. Actually, keep saying it because it makes me look incompetent, which is my job for the next twenty-four hours. “Um…so what’s with all the papers?” Yep, I sound like an idiot.
Good.
“There is an insubordinate crew currently sailing off the shore of Cuba. They have gone rogue, stealing all the cash from the last security detail they ran. What would you like us to do?” one of the members ask.
Fuck. I glance over at Enzo, who is lightly drumming his fingers against the table with a smug smile on his lips. I know how he’d handle it. He’d send a team to have them all shot.
I can’t give that order. I can’t order men to die on the word of one employee. But I don’t feel this is something I should fuck up in order to convince them to choose Enzo over me. Men’s and women’s lives are at stake.
“Send the closest team to go after them and bring them in,” I answer.
It must be a good answer because he nods, grabs his phone, and disappears to make the call.
I can do this.
Easy.
But apparently, there is more to tackle than just the one question for the day. The next man grabs some of the papers and hands them to me. I stare blankly at the large sums of numbers on them.
Ten million.
