Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
But we were heads of department on a superyacht, leading a crew being filmed for a television show.
There was no time to stop, no time to plan.
And now, I was a fish out of water on a boat that should have felt like home.
By the time the Successful Six had unpacked their designer duffels and started requesting drones, floaties, and freshly muddled cocktails, the interior I was desperately trying to hold together was already slipping.
It all snapped when Leah mixed up a drink order. A gin fizz instead of a gin and tonic. A simple, harmless mistake — but it was one I knew I needed to catch before she took the drinks to the guests, especially because I had zero doubts that they’d know the difference and be sure to complain about it.
But I knew there was no way to give feedback and it go well in this moment.
“Leah,” I said gently as I corrected the glass on the tray, “he actually asked for tonic, not fizz.”
She froze, blinking at the drink and then at where she was making the next one. She didn’t look at me. “Right. Got it.”
Leah threw the shaker into the sink with such force it clattered loudly, and then she was angrily twisting the top off a bottle of tequila to work on the next cocktail.
“It’s okay,” I offered, reaching for her arm. “There’s a lot happening—”
“I said I got it.”
The words landed like a slap against my cheek. My nerves were shot from the morning, and even though I knew it would be pointless to try to talk to her about everything now, it was difficult not to. I wanted to explain myself, to make her hear me out, to prove to her that I valued our friendship, and I would have told her if I knew everything I knew now. I also wanted to comfort her, not from the pain I’d caused, but from that which I knew Cameron had. Leah’s emotions were more complex than just feeling betrayed by a friend.
She had been lied to by a man she was considering moving across the world for.
I just wanted to hug her, to tell her it would all be okay — somehow, some day.
Instead, I stood there with my hand still reaching for hers and not a word in my mind that I felt would make anything better.
Leah ignored me, moving on to the martini request. When she poured entirely too much dry vermouth in, I grimaced.
“Hey,” I said, lowering my voice. “If you need a break—”
“Why would I need a break?” she snapped, finally turning to face me. “You think I can’t handle this?”
“No,” I said quickly. “I… I just can see you might be a little shaken from the morning, which is understandable.”
“Nothing shaken but this martini, and I’m only doing that because Russell thinks he’s James Bond.”
She clamped the lid on the shaker hard and got to work, the ice rattling, her arms tense.
“I’m trying to help,” I whispered when she started pouring the drink. I knew just by looking at it that Russell would send it back.
“Right,” she scoffed. “Now you care.”
Bernard, who had joined us from where he’d been steaming a few clothing items for the guests down in laundry, finally spoke up then. “Alright, my darlings. Let’s have a little perspective, yeah? It’s barely midday — bit early to be drawing blood.”
“Oh, now you care about the crew?” Leah’s voice was sharp enough to cut bone. “Sorry, find that hard to believe after watching you stir the pot so much, I’m surprised you don’t have tendinitis.”
Bernard barely flinched. “Love, if you need a punching bag, may I suggest the gym? Or perhaps the Scot who has been telling you pretty lies. I warned both of you not to get caught up together.” He pinned me with a glare next. “Guess I should have been handing out those warnings more liberally.”
“We were fine until you pulled that shit in the hot tub,” Leah said, poking Bernard hard in the chest with the you.
“Hey,” I warned. “That’s enough.”
Bernard smiled at Leah. “I didn’t poke holes in that boat, my darling. I just poured water in and made them harder to hide.”
In the worst possible timing known to man, Gisella swung through the sliding glass doors from the deck, rapping her knuckles on the bar. “Guests are asking about their drinks. Need a hand?”
“Don’t you think you’ve had your hands in enough places they don’t belong lately?” Leah shot at her.
Bernard stifled a laugh.
“Okay, I think everyone is just a little frustrated,” I said, hands on Bernard’s arms as I turned him toward the deck. “Leah’s got this. Bernard, why don’t you go talk to the guests about lunch. Gisella, if you don’t mind—”
“I mind,” she spat before I could finish, and then she whipped around and stormed out of the salon, muttering something in Spanish under her breath. I didn’t need to speak the language to know it was nothing nice.