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No, way, sister. I’m not falling for this.
We are notdating, and Sullivan is not a kind person.
I pull my hand free.
“Anyway,” I say. “I better check in with Angus.”
“I’ll come with you,” Martinique sighs, as glumly as if she were accompanying me to the firing squad. I don’t think she’s nervous to see Angus—she just doesn’t want to leave Sullivan behind.
We find Angus at the back of the boat, arguing about the tensile strength of stainless steel. Angus is highly involved in the design of his rockets, and he’s about as controlling there as he is everywhere else, constantly squabbling with his engineers.
Of course, there are no engineers on this boat—just rich people trying to get richer.
The person Angus is arguing with is an investor named Corgus Brent.
“Theo!” Angus cries, motioning for me to get closer. “You come tell Corgus what a load of shit this is that we can’t get the casing three millimeters thicker. I told him…,” he breaks off, staring at me. “Wow. You look…nice.”
The way he’s staring at my body in this swimsuit isn’t “nice” at all. Actually, it’s making me extremely uncomfortable.
But then, he says, “Let me get you a drink,” and a cool flute of champagne slips into my palm.
Angus has never gotten me a drink before.
Corgus is also looking at my body, but not like he thinks it’s “nice”—more like he wants to throw it overboard so it stops getting in the way of his conversation.
“Can we get back to?—“
“Later,” Angus interrupts. “I need to chat with Theo.”
Angus waves him aside. Literally waves his hand like a French prince.
Corgus is dismissed.
In favor of me.
This has also never happened before.
I really wish it wasn’t happening now because of a swimsuit.
Martinique gives me a wide-eyed look while Corgus stomps off.
“Holy shit!” she whispers.
My face burns. Did Sullivan do this on purpose? Just to show me how differently Angus would treat me? Or is this somehow playing into his game…
Angus gives me another slow up-and-down, and my stomach churns.
If Sullivan thinks he’s going to pimp me off to my boss, he’s more than just crazy—he’s going to get his teeth knocked out.
But Sullivan appears at my elbow before Angus can pull me into a cozy corner for our “chat.”
“Theo,” he says. “I brought you a drink.”
He takes Angus’ champagne out of my hand and sets it aside.
My new drink is a Dirty Shirley, which is happens to be my favorite. Though I don’t know how in thehellSullivan knew that.
I wouldn’t want him to know that. It’s not the coolest drink of choice. But goddamn, is it delicious.
