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“I’m not trying to hurt the family, Father,” Bowie insisted. “I just need a vacation before I take over as head of household. I’m sorry that you can’t understand that Dad,” he said. “I’ll check in soon,” he said.
“Bowie,” his father started, and he ended the call. There was nothing more to say and no way his father would ever understand what he was doing. He was going to have to keep up his rouse if he wanted to keep his meeting with Carter. If anyone could help the Wrath family get in good with the other households, it was Carter Lust. His help was going to be paramount to Bowie making this merger work out in his favor.
But he’d think about all of that later because right now, Bowie was going to have a meeting with the captain, to convince him to order his daughter to have dinner with him. He liked Eden and she’d be able to make his trip across the ocean feel a bit shorter and a whole lot more interesting. Then, he’d meet with Carter and work out the linguistics of having the Wrath family join the others to bring down the Sloth and eventually Gluttony families. It was the only way to make sure that peace ensued, and all the senseless killing stopped.
* * *
They had been out to sea for almost two hours and Bowie decide to retire to his cabin to shower and clean up for dinner. He had about an hour to convince the captain to allow Eden to join him for dinner, and Bowie was determined to make that happen.
He found the captain on the bridge and gently knocked on the open door. “Captain Powell, may I have a quick word?”
“Of course, Mr. Wrath,” the captain said. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, you can tell your daughter to have dinner with me,” Bowie said, cutting right to the chase.
“I’m sorry, what?” the captain asked. Bowie pasted on his best smile, the one that usually got him what he was asking for, and waited for the captain to realize that he wasn’t really asking for Eden to join him for dinner.
“I want Eden to join me for dinner,” Bowie said again.
“Have you asked her to join you, Mr. Wrath?” the captain asked.
“I have and she turned me down. She said that it’s against company policy,” Bowie said.
“Well, then, there you have it,” Captain Powell said. “Eden is a stickler for the rules.”
“And while I appreciate that,” Bowie cut in, “I am in need of a dinner companion. Sailing alone is no fun and I have found your daughter to be good company. I hope that is all right with you, Captain Powell,” Bowie said.
“Eden is good company, I agree with you, Mr. Wrath,” the captain said. “But rules are rules.”
“And you’re the captain and can make an exception,” Bowie reminded. “I’m only asking for a dinner companion, nothing else, sir.” If Eden wanted to give him more than just dinner, that would be between her and Bowie. Her father had no place in his sex life, which was something that he was sure of.
The captain sighed, “I’ll talk to my daughter and ask her if she wants to have dinner with you, but I can’t make any promises that she’ll comply.”
“I appreciate that,” Bowie said. “Now, I have a few phone calls to make before dinner. Please excuse me.” He left the captain knowing that he’d somehow get Eden to join Bowie for dinner. A request from a charter guest never went unfulfilled—especially when it came from a syndicate member.
An hour later, after making a few unpleasant phone calls, Bowie found himself sitting alone at the big dining room table. His first course was brought out by Eden as she politely smiled at him. “Why is there only one place setting here?” he questioned. He felt more amused by her defiance than pissed off. Most women treated him as if they were afraid of him. He hated that because he wasn’t at all like some of the men in the syndicate—they were monsters, and he wasn’t. Eden didn’t seem to fear him in the least. In fact, she seemed to enjoy taunting him and egging him on.
“Because you are the only one dining with us tonight, Mr. Wrath,” she said.
“Bowie,” he insisted. “I told you that Mr. Wrath is my father,” he reminded.
“Right, and while I’m on duty, I am going to be calling you, Mr. Wrath,” Eden challenged. She presented his first course to him and placed it in front of him. Bowie pushed his plate away and tossed his napkin onto the table.
“How about this,” he said, “you go back to the galley and tell the chef that I refuse to eat his food this evening unless you dine with me.”
“I can’t do that,” Eden insisted. “You are out of your mind if you think that I’m going to tell the chef that our charter guest refuses his food. I’ll never hear the end of it from him.”
Bowie stood, “Fine,” he said, “I’ll go tell him myself.”
“You can’t just bully your way into a date, Bowie,” Eden spat.
He stooped at the top of the steps and looked back at her. “Did you just call me a bully?” he asked.
“I did, and I believe that the shoe fits, in this case,” she insisted. “You went to my father to ask him to order me to have dinner with you? That move just screams bully to me.” She was right, he did do that, but he wasn’t trying to be a bully.
“That wasn’t my intent,” he breathed. “I was just hoping to have a dinner companion for the evening.”
“Well, then, you should have brought one along with you. I have a job to do and having dinner with you isn’t a possibility. It wouldn’t be fair to the rest of the crew.”
