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I roll my eyes and feel the back of my neck heat up. “You know what I mean,” I say crossly. I put an arm around her and try to guide her toward the door. “Come on, let’s just get out of here. They’re watching us.”
“No,” Evie says simply, side-stepping out of my arm like a boxer. “We need to talk about their offer, and I’m not risking getting locked out once you change your mind.”
I’ve been impressed by Evie’s insolence in the past but now that respect is starting to run thin.
“This is not the place for that,” I hiss. “They are watching us down there. How do you think this looks?”
“It looks like I want her,” Evie says. “And I do.”
“And you think they won’t try to leverage that?” I respond. “If we look desperate — which we fucking do right now — then they’ll milk us for every penny they can get.”
“If we agree to go with them, they’ll already see that we’re desperate,” Evie shoots back.
“Which is exactly why we can’t do it,” I say.
“No,” she replies. “It’s why we have to do it. Because we are desperate. Anyone else we get will take a hell of a lot more time and planning to fit the model my team has planned. By the time that’s finished, it’ll add up to a lot longer than a week or two in Europe.”
I hesitate. That’s not a bad point. But still I shake my head. “I have a business to run, Evie,” I say. “I can’t just abandon it to go traipsing around Europe.”
“Why not?” Evie challenges. “This isn’t 1902. We have phones and Zoom calls and email. You don’t have to be physically present in your building to run things.”
But I do, I want to protest. Logic stops me. She’s right, of course, but I still don’t want to admit it. I’ve gone into the office every single day since I started renting space close to a decade ago. It’s a part of my DNA at this point, my routine that is so important to my success. What happens if it all falls apart because I got complacent? Because I allowed this woman to get me all mixed up?
On the other hand, the odds of things falling apart get a lot more likely if this goddamn cruise ship doesn’t make a metric ton of cash.
I glance back at Kara. Dalton is talking to her, probably telling her again that this is a good deal. But he won’t convince her to back down; I recognize the look in her eyes. She’s flying high, full of youthful defiance, and in the unique position to not have to make compromises. In five years, she might come to regret it, but right now nothing will change her mind except me agreeing to her terms.
“Going won’t even guarantee that she’ll work with us,” I remind Evie. “She wants us to be fun. And I think you know how that will go.”
Evie smiles with half her mouth. “I don’t know,” she says. “I think you’re pretty damn fun. I had a good time last night.”
I pause, wanting to lie, but then I can’t disappoint her. “Me too,” I say. “But that doesn’t change the fact that Kara might not find us fun at all.”
Evie’s smile just widens. “Don’t worry about that,” she says. She nudges me playfully. “Come on. I think you could charm her if you wanted to.”
I know she can. As for myself, I have no clue. Twenty-one-year-olds have always found me uptight, even when I was twenty-one. But maybe with enough alcohol… And Evie being there won’t hurt…
Am I really considering this? I must be. I’ve done a lot for this company, but this would go down as the strangest.
“Fine,” I say at last. “But the second anyone tries to get me to dance I’m out of there.”
“No worries, baby,” a stripper says. “We can do all the dancing for you.” She shimmies her tits at us, and Evie squeaks trying to suppress a laugh. I just wipe my face with a hand.
What am I getting myself into? The goal was distance from Evie, and now we’ll be closer than ever. And, most worryingly of all, despite all my protests, deep down I can’t wait to spend more time alone with her.
I feel like I’m riding a wave that’s growing beyond reason or control. I can’t get off, I can’t change course.
All I can do is fight to keep my head above water.
CHAPTER TEN
EVIE
“You’re sure you don’t want me to come?” Mickey asks for the tenth time. She’s been lounging on my bed in the apartment while I pack, closely following my every move.
“Of course I want you to come,” I say. “But there’s no way to excuse both of us disappearing to Europe for two weeks. It’ll be hard enough to manage things as it is remotely.”
“Urgh,” Mickey groans, flopping backward to lie facing the ceiling. “I hate that you’re leaving! We were just hitting our rhythm working together! Are you sure this is a good idea?”
