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"Whoa, wait a minute. This fiasco isn't a hundred percent my fault. You didn't tell me who the fuck you were, either. What about my reputation? My company's reputation? How the hell do you think it would make us look if word got out that your magazine featured us in an article and I'd slept with the journalist who wrote it? Huh? People would cry foul, accusing us of getting preferential treatment and bribing our way intogetting featured. I've been working my ass off—working my way up in the company, proving myself, and taking on a bigger role. I can't afford a black mark."
"Oh, no. Don't you dare—"
"Stop! It's my turn to talk. You don't get to interrupt me." Dane runs his hand through his hair, agitated and on the edge of losing it. "My father started this company after spending years working through the ranks with another cruise line. He wanted me to understand how a cruise line functions, the hard work involved, and the dedication and expertise given by everyone on a ship, from the housekeeping staff to the captain. He requested that I work a full season on one of our ships to learn the business from the ground up. And the only way I could do that was to work incognito as a bartender and waiter. Christ, if only I'd known who you fucking were."
"What then? You wouldn't have touched me with a ten-foot pole?"
"Exactly!"
"Thanks," Brittany whispers, her voice breaking.
Dane stares at her. She's standing in the streetlight's glow, moisture filling her eyes. He reaches for her. "Britt, we—"
"Don't!" Brittany steps back. "Don't touch me, and don't come near me again. I've worked so fucking hard, and you've cost me everything." A tear escapes, glistening as it runs down her cheek. Brittany turns to walk away.
Dane jumps forward, grabbing her arm, and she viciously shakes his hand off.
"I said don't touch me," Brittany growls. She swivels on her heels and briskly hurries up the street.
"Dammit, don't walk away from me! You can't fucking walk back by yourself."
Brittany ignores him—her head bent as she practically runs toward the ship.
"Fine. I'll walk behind you!"
They reach the dock, and Dane stops. He stands in the shadows, watching Brittany rush down the gangway and disappear into the ship. He's angry, frustrated, and confused, ready to jump out of his skin, the tension almost unbearable.
Running his hand through his windblown hair, Dane climbs the stairs to the plaza. Too upset to sit, he paces the concrete in the dim glow of the streetlights.
After a while, he stops and stares at the ship. It's all such a clusterfuck—Brittany's assignment, his secret, their anger, deception, and little white lies.
Dane plops down on one of the benches, his head in his hands. He can't think, let alone figure out what to do.
It feels like everything around him is spiraling out of control.
And he doesn't know how to stop it.
Chapter Nineteen
Brittany
It's quiet as I creep toward the corner by Romeo's desk, hoping he's off in the copy room or somewhere else so I can sneak by to get to my office. I'll get a lecture on top of spy-worthy questioning once he spots me, and I'm not ready for it. Any dawdling at Romeo's desk also puts me at risk of being noticed by the bosses, which is the last thing I want to happen. Running late, I didn't have a chance to stop for coffee at the shop down the street. And right now, I need caffeine—lots of it—before I explain to Katherine and Natalia how I botched my assignment.
A peek around the corner confirms Romeo is at his desk. Pulling back, I lean against the wall, unsure what to do.
"Sweetie, I know you're there." Romeo's voice floats through the air, and I can picture him staring at the wall with his X-ray vision. "I can smell vanilla."
"Shit," I mumble as I step away from my hiding spot. "I was half-asleep and in a hurry when I fought with my perfume bottle.I lost the battle and didn't have time to change my clothes or dilute the scent."
"I pity the patrons on the subway. But at least you don't smell like toast. That's Drake's new scent."
"Toast? It doesn't have a smell. At least not a strong one." I stare at Romeo, confused by his comment. Then, the lightbulb in my caffeine-deprived brain flips on. "Never mind. I get it. Toast, as in Drake got fired, so he's toast."
"My goodness, you're slow this morning. Maybe the vanilla overpowered your brain cells, and how can you walk around like that, anyway? You smell like Betty Crocker on steroids."
"I can't tell how strong the scent is because that's all I can smell. I accidentally sprayed it up my nose."
Romeo shakes his head and laughs, his fingers automatically pressing against the skin underneath his eyes. "It would be so dull around here without you. In the five minutes you've been here, you've tortured my nose and subjected me to getting wrinkles. That must be why I love you."
