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Even the woman responsible for gluing on my fake eyelashes knows exactly how long I was in the water today.
My confidence in my plan takes an instant dive. I don’t know how I’m going to manage to get off this island, but I’m determined to try.
Ever since the moment I realized he’s just twisting another Lindy pretzel, controlling me like the others, I’ve felt bitter and determined. I must get out of here and back to New York.
Mike will be my first call. I hate to think of the disappointment the team will feel when they find out that according to my NDA, I can’t open my mouth about anything that happened or even say the name Bachman.
Then, if I’m fired, I look for another job. I swallow back my thoughts of failure; I can’t focus on such things. Getting out of here alive needs to be my only concern right now.
I crank up the charm. “Apollo, can we get the team a glass of champagne to toast with me?”
“Yes, we certainly can,” he says.
The food and beverage staff quickly get to work, leaving the room. They return carrying silver trays topped with flutes filled with bubbly, alongside plates that hold slices of ripe red strawberries. They pass the glasses around the room.
Apollo holds his flute in the air, making eye contact with me. “And what would you like to toast to?”
How do I let everyone know how much I’ve appreciated them, but without raising any red flags? I remain in my seat, keeping it informal. I lift my glass to his.
“To an amazing staff.” I look around the room, trying to catch the eye of each person. “Thank you for all you do.”
“Hear, hear.” Apollo still holds my gaze as our glasses clink together, before he moves to the next person. Can he sense I’m off tonight? He continues his toast. “Our team gives their all, every day. We’re more than co-workers. We’re family.”
“To family,” I say.
The staff hold their glasses up with ours, cheering together. We sip the champagne, the mood in the room elevated. Apollo gives me one look that he holds a beat too long for my liking.
I’ve got to cover my tracks. The toast was too much. I stand, moving across the room to Apollo.
I whisper in his ear. “Just tired from the swim. I didn’t want them to mistake my fatigue for displeasure in their work.”
I can see the relief in his gaze. He did think something was up. Luckily the smile he gives me is genuine.
He nods. “I understand. And as always, your impeccable manners are appreciated.”
They dress me in the gold gown—if I must have a repeat, let it be this one—leaving my hair down in beachy waves. The thin fabric cascades over my legs as I move. I pause before I leave the room to glance in the mirror.
Wearing the gold gown seems to bring this heady experience full circle. I take it as a signal that it is time to leave. My plan is the right one.
Apollo holds his arm out to me. “Ready?”
“Yes.” I slip my arm through his. “Thank you.”
For making me so comfortable here. For taking care of me. For everything.
I leave Caesar with his dry kiss. Is that a hint of a smile on his stony face? I must be imagining it, knowing this is my last night.
Apollo and I make our way down the stairs, and as it does every evening around this time, my heart beats faster, my tummy flip-flops. I hold my breath as I wait for him to come into view. Tonight is no different.
There he is.
A wave of heat melts through me as I lay eyes on him. Has he gone out of his way to look more handsome than usual tonight? Or am I wearing rose-colored glasses knowing this is my last meal with him?
No… he’s just ridiculously hot.
He’s let his hair grow a little longer since we first arrived, his beard thicker. He wears a black suit tonight, a pale blue shirt underneath. I’ve always been a sucker for a man in a blue button-down.
“You’ve come.” Candlelight flickers in his green eyes.
