She had to stop calling him that. Jonah.
It was the text chain starting with the frying pan. From back when she had felt just mildly out of her depth.
Out of the frying pan now, and into the fire.
Please let me explain.
I’m sorry.
Where are you?
A white strip fluttered out of her clutch, landing at her feet.
She bent to pick it up and turned it over—the first round of photos from the booth. His white Phantom half-mask, her sequined Star Princess mask. Two people hiding in plain sight.
She'd thought she was the only one pretending.
Who was this guy? Posing behind that mask, lying about who he was. A stranger.
She shoved the strip back in her clutch before the tears could start, then deleted the messages.
Frying pan and all.
Chapter Fifteen
Even on his worst night of improv, he’d never let things get so out of control.
This isn’t stand-up, his inner heckler said from the bar stool next to him, savoring a double Jack on the rocks. And you should’ve ended the bit hours ago.
Again, his brain cycled back to the fact that he’d gained her trust.
And he’d let her believe a lie.
You didn’t know, his brain supplied. So helpful. You thought she was Kara. You thought you were just – what? Hanging out with a high net worth super star? That she was slumming it, just for kicks?
Yeah. For the first few hours, maybe. But after that?
He could’ve said something. Should’ve said something. And now – now she was nowhere to be found. Leaving his texts on read. Probably blocking him. Somewhere on this ship, alone. As much as a celebrity can ever be alone, but without a buffer.
The real Max, not here and having a medical crisis of his own. The other security guy, in the first aid bay, who couldn’t even sit up without retching? Not able to help.
Jonah fidgeted with his phone, hoping she would at least send a fuck off text. To let him know she was okay. It lit up in his hands, and he almost dropped it in his haste to read.
Not her. Eli. Answering his text from earlier…which felt like a lifetime ago.
Oh, and trust the signs from above.
Fuckin’ Eli. Cryptic as usual. Not helpful.
“Hey.”
Jonah looked up. Jay was leaning against the bar next to him, two beers in hand. He held one out.
“No thanks,” Jonah said automatically. He took the beer anyway, just to have something to do with his hands.
“This night has gone pretty sideways, in more ways than one. I don’t think a sip will matter.”
Jay usually waited until after the ship had docked and the pier had cleared out before he allowed himself to unwind. But now he tipped the amber bottle to his lips and took a long pull.
