Page 90 of Trigger Happy Ending

“Bit breezy, darling?"

Ugh. Of course Carson saw my ass. I turn to face him with a tight lipped smile.

Carson greets me with an unnecessary hug, dragging his hands down towards my ass. I bite my tongue and remember my role this weekend: keep Carson and his guests happy. "How are you, Angel?"

"Fine thanks."

"What do you think of this?" Carsons arms flay wide as he does a semi-circle.

"It's a beautiful boat."

"Superyacht, Angel," Carson chides. "Super. Yacht."

I fake an apology. "Sorry. Superyacht."

Carson leans his back on the railing and folds his arms.

“You were a special request for this weekend.”

“I was? I’m flattered.”

“Not by me, darling.”

“Oh? By who?” I reply, tracing my long nail over the steel rail.

“Lukas.”

It takes every shred of training to keep my expression flat. I tap the rail three times. “Remind me which man that is again?”

“Big guy. Tattooed. He left the club early.”

I smile like he’s nothing. (Except I think he might be everything?)

“Oh, him. That’s sweet. Any special instructions?”

“Give him whatever he wants.”

“Whatever he wants?”

“Yes. I need him to be very happy.”

“Why?”

Carson’s eyes narrow slightly, unsure whether my question is an innocent one. It’s not, but I play the part so well. “I have a business opportunity for him. I want him to be in the investing mood.”

My pulse spikes. He’s referencing PARM-17 as O predicted. “Sure. I can make him very happy if that’s what you want?”

“Yes, make him the happiest.” Carson smiles. His pupils may as well morph into little dollar signs.

My stomach flips, butterflies multiplying as I realize sleeping with Soren is now a direct instruction. Luckily, I’m a good soldier and follow orders.

“Speak of the devil.” Carson grins, arms outstretched. I turn to see Soren walking up the deck towards us, stopping only to hand his bag to the crew. “Lukas! Welcome aboard!”

I have to clench my thighs together at the sight of him. He’s wearing a backwards cap, black sunglasses, plain black tee, and black shorts. Tattoos on full display, the sunlight illuminating the ink on his forearms and legs. When Soren approaches, undercover as Lukas, I make sure Angel—and not Raine—greets him.

“Lukas,” I drawl. “Hi.”

He hugs me lightly, unsmiling, and then turns to Carson. We'd discussed the cool indifference he'd display on board, because it's exactly what Lukas would do. He wouldn’t get distracted by a beautiful woman, even if she’s here for him. He slides his sunglasses off and hooks them into the collar of his tee, the late afternoon light catching on the sharp lines lines of his face.