AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She pressed her lips together, making him notice once again how unusually full and lush they were. Why did she have to make things so damn difficult? And look so good while she was doing it?
“You can see why it’s hard for me to know who to trust.”
“I do. It sounds like there’s a problem with our consulate in Thailand. That doesn’t mean other people can’t be trusted.”
“Yes, but who? You?” Her eyes lifted to his in a sudden burst of fiery accusation. “You won’t even be straight with me about why you were lurking around the Blue Drake.”
Granger lost his cool, something that didn’t happen very often.
“Look. Trust me or don’t trust me. That’s up to you. I don’t have to prove anything to you, but if I wasn’t trustworthy, would Kirk have put us together like this? I always follow up on my commitments, I don’t make promises I can’t keep, and I’m loyal as fuck. But none of that matters. Like I said, I’m checking out of here tonight unless I get a better idea of what I’m up against.”
She was watching him with an expression of fascination. “Wow, that’s the most riled up I’ve ever seen you.”
Whoops. How’d he let that happen? She’d gotten under his skin, and that was something he rarely allowed.
“Sorry,” he said stiffly.
“No. It’s good. It feels real.”
“I’m always real,” he grumbled. “Real grumpy sometimes, but real. Are you going to trust me now?”
Nine
“Come on, Blissie. This one’s a can’t-miss epic baller event. Do you want to look back when you’re eighty and say you stayed home while party history was being made? It’s on a yacht in the Andaman Sea. It’s going to be us and a boatload of billionaires. Come on, girl. I can’t even believe I have to beg you.”
Bliss gave in—Kenya was one of her best girlfriends on the shoot. An hour later they were being whisked in a helicopter to the enormous yacht, one deck of which was a helipad.
She hated these sorts of parties, the kind where she was purely decoration. When a server circled past with a tray of champagne flutes, she waved him on. She had a strict no-alcohol policy around men such as the ones at this party. In her eyes, they were all ruthless, amoral vultures. Some had actual billions and some were faking it, and she wasn’t sure which of the two were more dangerous.
Either way, she wasn’t interested. Why did everyone always want more more more? She liked money because it gave her independence. But once she’d socked enough away so that she could buy her mother a house in Bali—basically as far away as possible and her own Gramercy Park co-op--she was content. She didn’t need more, and that meant she was free. A lot more free than the so-called “billionaires” plotting and maneuvering and jockeying on the pristine white deck of this yacht.
She wandered onto the walkway that circled the yacht and leaned on the railing to watch the ocean. The intense blue of the Andaman Sea was like nothing she’d ever seen. She took out her phone to take a video, and that was when voices floated her way.
Two men were wandering her direction, but they hadn’t seen her yet because they were completely engaged in conversation. She stepped back from the railing and under the overhang of the wheelhouse. One of the men had asked her to dinner earlier. In Rome. She’d gotten a very sketchy feeling from him, and had laughed off the invitation. He was so persistent that she’d eventually pulled out a solid excuse for a no—she had to attend her sister’s wedding.
The last thing she wanted was to get cornered out here on the deck, so she plastered herself against the cool fiberglass and hoped they’d pass right on by without seeing her.
But instead, they paused a few yards away. They both propped their arms on the railing and turned toward the ocean, although they didn’t appear to pay any attention to the vivid cobalt water.
She checked for an escape route, but the only viable one was in their direction.
Even though the purr of the yacht’s engine drowned out most of their conversation, the wind was blowing their words right toward her.
Eavesdropping was generally considered to be bad, but not according to her mother. “Women have to use every tool we can get our hands on,” she used to say. “If you overhear something you can use, what’s the problem with that?”
At any rate, there wasn’t much she could do about it. She was stuck. And they were talking. One of the men—the one who’d invited her to Rome—had an Eastern European accent, Croatia, at a guess. The other looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t pin down where she’d seen him. He was definitely American.
“Is he after women? I can help with that,” Croatia was saying.
“I wouldn’t say ‘women,’” came the other man’s smooth voice. A politician? Had she seen him on the news?
“Say no more. I get it. I can do that too. It’ll be more, though.”
“Of course. We just need to catch him in the nasty. I need leverage.”
“We’ll catch him. It’s what I do.” Croatia spread wide his arm to encompass the yacht. “What do you think this party’s for? Not you,” he added quickly. “You’re my special guest of honor.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, I don’t trust you, but I don’t have to trust you. You do your part, I’ll do mine. I’ll get him to commit. You set the trap.”
