Page 29 of Have To Be Mine

Maybe I was exactly what they all thought I was.

I shook my head, trying to dislodge the thought. No. This was one incident. One missed email. It didn’t define me. I’d been running logistics for Blackwell Couture for years, and we’d never had a major failure. Sure, things got close sometimes. I cut it closer than Adrian liked, but I always pulled it off in the end.

Except this time I hadn’t. She had.

I started walking toward the models that were coming out of the water. They saw me coming and immediately perked up, all smiles and flirtatious energy. This was familiar territory. This, I knew how to navigate.

“Ladies,” I said, putting on my most charming smile. “Who wants to show me the Athens nightlife?”

Three hands went up immediately.

“Perfect,” I said. “Meet me in the lobby at eight? Drinks on me.”

They agreed enthusiastically, already chattering about which clubs to hit first. I finished up with the job, which I found funny that my babysitter wasn’t here to watch me actually do my damn job.

It was almost three hours later by the time I got back to the hotel. I passed Krista’s door on the way to mine and paused. I could hear nothing from inside. Was she in there? Working?

I considered asking her to come out one last time but decided that would be a waste of time. She wasn’t interested. And I was not a glutton for punishment.

10

KRISTA

The following morning, I found Dash at the hotel pool. This was after he didn’t answer his phone—again. I only knew he was there because one of the production staff told me he was holding court. I was not surprised. It was exactly where I expected him to be. Not in his room packing. Not reviewing the Corfu logistics like we’d discussed. No, he was lounging on a chair surrounded by what looked like half the modeling agency. And of course he was naked. Okay, not naked, but he was wearing a pair of swim trunks and nothing else. That ridiculous chest that belonged on a magazine cover, not on someone who was supposed to be a logistics coordinator, was on full display.

And it was so annoying that I kept noticing. He had on his sunglasses, smiling and holding a drink. He was the image of relaxation.

I wanted to dump that drink on his head. How dare he? He knew damn well we were supposed to be out of here. The lack of care and concern the man had was beyond infuriating. I had never met anyone so irresponsible. How in the hell had he made it this far in life?

I stood at the edge of the pool area and watched him laugh at something one of the models said. She was draped across the chair next to him, her hand on his arm. Two more were in the pool, calling up to him. A guy I recognized from the production crew was there too, along with several people I didn’t recognize at all.

Dash Blackwell, the center of attention. His natural habitat.

My jaw clenched. We were supposed to leave for Corfu an hour ago. The plane was waiting. The car was waiting. The entire Corfu crew was waiting. And here he was, kicking back at the pool like he had all the time in the world.

I walked over, my boots feeling very wrong against the blue tile. Several heads turned to look at me. I ignored them all, my eyes locked on Dash.

“Mr. Blackwell,” I said, my voice carrying across the pool deck.

He looked up. A slow smile spread across his face. He pulled down his sunglasses to the tip of his nose. “Captain Krista. Come to join the party?”

“Your suite has been packed,” I said, not bothering to return his smile. “The plane is on the tarmac. The car is waiting. We’re leaving. Now.”

The model next to him pouted. “But we just got here.”

“You can stay,” I said to her, then looked back at Dash. “He can’t.”

Dash took a long sip of his drink, maintaining eye contact with me the entire time. It was a power play. A test. He was seeing if I’d back down, if I’d defer to him in front of his audience.

Not a chance.

“The Corfu team is waiting,” I said. “You’re holding up an entire production schedule. Get up. Let’s go.”

“You’re very bossy,” he said, but there was amusement in his voice.

“I’m very employed. And you’re very late.”

He laughed, and damn it, even his laugh was attractive. He stood up, stretching in a way that made his abs flex. It was completely unnecessary and absolutely intentional. He knew exactly what he was doing. The trunks he was wearing had the Blackwell name in gold around the waist. He was wearing one of the swimsuits from the new line. I recognized it from the information I had reviewed last night.