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I’m lost in thought, replaying the events of the past day, both expected and not in my mind. Pulling out my tablet, I tap open the latest report from Simone. My steps quicken down the narrow corridor of the Mystic Princess, the dim lighting doing little to dispel a lingering sense of unease.
Out of nowhere, I collide with something—someone. Cordelia Marin. The impact sends my tablet crashing to the floor, and I hear the sickening crack of the screen before I even look down.
“Ms. Marin, do you make a habit of accosting potential investors?” My words come out sharper than intended, but irritation courses through me. She’s infuriating... and intoxicatingly close.
Her eyes flash with a mix of annoyance and amusement as she straightens herself. “Maybe if potential investors watched where they were going, collisions wouldn’t happen.”
I bend down to retrieve my tablet, inspecting the cracked screen with a frown. “Wonderful.”
She crosses her arms, clearly unfazed by my frustration. “If you spent less time brooding with your face planted in an electronic device and more time paying attention to what’s around, you’d notice things.”
I glance up at her, narrowing my eyes. “Such as?”
She steps closer, invading my personal space with an air of defiance. “Such as the fact that you’re not as in control here as you think.”
Her proximity is both maddening and magnetic. The scent of saltwater and machinery clings to her, a reminder of her deep connection to this ship. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” She points a finger at me and jabs the air between us. “And if you really want to understand this ship—my ship—you should join me for an inspection of what you really need to see.”
I raise an eyebrow. “An inspection? Now?”
“Unless you’re too busy nursing your tablet.”
A challenge hangs in the air between us. She’s daring me to step into her world, to see beyond my business-minded façade. My irritation mingles with an unexpected attraction—she’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met.
“Lead the way.” I am unable to suppress a smirk.
She turns on her heel and walks away, not waiting for me to follow. As I trail behind her, a mix of anticipation and unease wash over me. I misjudged this woman as an obstacle to overcome and discard. She’s a puzzle, and one I can’t resist solving.
Cordelia leads me through the labyrinthine corridors of the Mystic Princess, her steps confident and sure. Every turn reveals a new marvel, each one more impressive than the last. The immense engines below the ECR thrum and purr with a symphony of well-oiled machinery, the heart of this ship pulsing with an energy I swear could be sentient. I am highly impressed, though I keep my face carefully neutral. I’ve never seen a more perfectly aligned mechanism than the engines Cordelia Marin oversees.
“Impressive.” I glance at the efficiency ratings displayed on a monitor. “But these numbers seem... impossible.”
She smirks, her eyes daring me to challenge her further. “The Mystic Princess runs on more than fuel and electricity. We have some... proprietary technologies.”
I narrow my eyes, my analytical mind already picking apart her words. Proprietary technologies. Is she confirming the rumors that led me here? There IS more to this ship—and to her—than meets the eye. I want this ship and if I must sell off the entire Mystic Cruises company to get it, I will.
We move on to the crew quarters, a stark contrast to the luxurious passenger areas, yet comfortable and spacious compared to what I have seen on other cruise ships. The quarters are utilitarian and efficient, every inch designed for maximum functionality while still providing comfort. Cordelia points out various features, her pride evident in every word.
“You are invested in this ship, Cordelia.”
“She’s a part of me and I’m a part of her.”
We continue to spar verbally as she leads me to the bridge. The view is breathtaking; an endless expanse of ocean stretching out before us, mixed with distant views of the inside passage islands as we navigate the enchanting natural channel.
The control panels on the bridge are state-of-the-art, but again, as is seen in every department on this ship, there are inconsistencies. Unexpected or odd data. Readings that don’t align with any technology I’m familiar with.
“Your setup is nontraditional. Your instrumentation provides readings that make no sense to me.” My tone is sharp, edged with suspicion.
She leans against the console, arms crossed. “You doubt our results?”
“It’s not disbelief. It’s curiosity.”
Her gaze softens for a moment before hardening again. “Curiosity can be dangerous.”
The tension between us crackles like static electricity as we make our way back to the ECR and her office. It’s cluttered yet organized in its own way, filled with nautical charts and mechanical blueprints. My eyes are drawn to an odd, shimmering object on her desk—a small sphere pulsing with an inner light.
“What’s this?”
