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“You know I don’t forget debts, Smith.”
“Then consider this me calling in the IOU.”
Nodding, I rise. I’m aware of exactly how intimidating I am with my size and build. And while he’s a big man, he’s not me. Not even close. “Why?”
“Pulling the IOU card?”
“No.” I frown. “Why are you so desperate for me to take on this job?”
“Because,” Smith says with a deep sigh. “I’m the client. Dakota’s my daughter.”
TWO
dakota
“Come on, Dakota!”
It takes me a minute to register that my new friend Amelia is yelling at me from the yacht’s infinity pool. Because yes, it’s that kind of yacht. I wish my best friend Harley was here to witness this place. But ironically, Harley, the girl most likely to seek adventure, refused to come. Wanted me not to get on board, actually.
Didn’t like the vibe, she claimed. But I bet it was the ‘no phone, no social media’ policy that turned her off to the trip. Besides, she’s got her whole summer planned out, whereas mine has been completely up in the air since my sophomore year at the New York Academy of Art ended. I feel like all I’ve been doing since school ended is recording superficial videos that aren’t doing anything to get me closer to a successful art career.
Ever since I’d caught fire on the internet, I haven’t been as focused on my art as I’d like. My inspiration’s been choking because of it, and I felt like I needed to clear my head and get out of the spotlight for a little while. Opening myself to the virtual world has gotten me a ton of followers, but also some creepy stalker types, which I guess is to be expected. And now I can barely go anywhere anymore without being mobbed by my followers. It’s flattering for sure, but more and more, it’s all become a major distraction from the one thing I really want.
That’s when I was offered a spot on the yacht by a major art dealer, Trent Eddington, who’s shown some of my pieces in his gallery. He said it would be a great way to rub elbows with others in the art world, people who could really help launch my career with their influence.
I couldn’t turn down such a golden opportunity. So I ignored Harley’s warnings and jumped at the chance to claim my future.
“Dakota, your New York skin is too pasty for the Caribbean. You need a tan, girl,” Haydyn, my other new friend, yells.
I listen with half an ear, my eyes glued to two men who got on board for the party tonight.
They’re both beyond pretty.
Yet one steals all my attention.
It’s hard to breathe because he cancels out everyone else around him. I can’t stop staring. And I’m not sure I like him.
From the top of his close-cropped dark hair to the boots on his feet and the black outfit that screams fuck sailing, he’s an inverted beacon.
Light and energy comes to him.
Mine included.
And he’s tall. Broad. With the kind of muscles that come from knowing what to do with them. He has kind of a lethal grace.
Even though it’s hot off the Gulf, the low sea breeze and glittering deep blue waters do nothing to expel the heat that radiates from him. Even if he’s not standing near me.
He seems to sense my heavy stare because he glances over his shoulder, meeting my eyes. It’s like being touched, like he sees beyond the surface to my deepest desires. He looks at me like it’s a claim.
Then the blond man next to him says something, and he turns. I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“Dakota!” Water droplets hit me and a glass is shoved under my nose. I look up. The dark-haired beauty I just met, Amelia, stands there. “Take it. Time to get the party started.”
“Thanks.” I take a long sip from the tall, clear glass. Gin and salted grapefruit. This is, in my limited experience, fast becoming my favorite drink.
And I like the courage it gives me, too.
Especially since I came without Harley.
