This is exactly what I can't afford.This distraction.This...whatever this is between us.
"Unfortunately," I say, stepping back into CEO mode, "I have calls to make.The charter division launches in two and a half weeks, and there are still details to finalize."
Something flickers across Mia's face—disappointment, maybe, or hurt—but she covers it quickly.
"Of course," she says."Come on, Isla.Let's clean up these feathers before lunch."
As they start gathering the scattered plumage, I retreat to my office, determined to focus on what I'm actually good at.
Being responsible.Being in control.
Being the man who doesn't let personal feelings interfere with business.
Even if that man is starting to feel like a stranger.
8
DANGER: BILLIONAIRE IN A TUX AHEAD
MIA
Nearly three weeks into August, and the Cannes heat is draped over theWest Windlike velvet.
Heavy, decadent, and inescapable.
The Mediterranean is all glittering blue and gold, the kind of backdrop that makes even a breakdown feel cinematic.
Which is fitting, because I’m in the middle of one.
Roarke is polite.Courteous, even.
But the man who inhaled me like I was oxygen under the stars?
He’s vanished.Replaced by a version of himself I’ve only seen in business meetings.
Precise.Unreadable.Distant.
At breakfast, Isla chatters happily about Eliza from Hamilton while Roarke scrolls through market reports.
"THE RAIN IN SPAIN!"Captain Feathers bellows.
Roarke finally looks up—but only at Isla.
“That’s impressive,” he says, offering a small smile.“You’ve been practicing.”
“I’m going to be Eliza in the talent show,” she declares proudly.“Mia’s helping me learn the whole soundtrack!”
Roarke sets his tablet down and leans in slightly.“Maybe tomorrow we’ll rehearse the chorus together.I’ve been told I have excellent pitch.”
Isla squeals.“Yes!We can all do it together!”
He tucks a curl behind her ear.“Deal.But only if Captain Feathers promises not to sing over me.”
The bird squawks something unintelligible.We laugh.
And then Roarke glances at me.
A brief, flickering look.
