Putting the box on the floor, I flop down. My head hits the pillow, which feels weirdly okay, and I am out like a light.
Heavy banging on the door jerks me awake. Slobber pools on my lip. Gross.
“Cleo?”
Stumbling to the door, I catch my reflection in the tiny mirror. I look like garbage. My hair’s a disaster, there’s a crease from the pillow running down my cheek, and my mascara from earlier has smudged under one eye. Brilliant. Exactly how I want to show up to a formal dinner.The banging continues. Ripping open the door, I stare at my dad.
“I thought you’d be late. Just like your mother. She could never stick to a schedule.”
Holding up my hand, I stop him from continuing. “Dad, you don’t get to talk about Mum.” He cheated, therefore forfeiting his right to talk about her ever again, in any capacity. “Also, I had an alarm set for three minutestime. You banging on my door is unnecessary. I’m here, doing your bidding. Can that just be enough?”
“Cleo.” He turns, looking left and right. “Keep your voice down, please.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m going to get dressed. See you soon.”
I don’t like being at odds with people, but I’ve had to put some walls up over the years. Dad and I will never be as close as he wants. I can’t get over the way he’s behaved. Mum deserved better, and frankly, so do I. He always puts the Navy above everything else, and that had a profound effect on me growing up.
My attitude towards River is another well-constructed wall. I already had a tenuous relationship with anything to do with the Navy. Add a heartbreak that nearly broke me, and that’s why her ego and behaviour gets under my skin,and why I have no time for her shit.
Ugh, why am I still thinking about her?
Stripping off, I pull open the box and lift out the dress. It’s gorgeous. Of course it is. Dad has impeccable taste when it comes to appearances. He always knows exactly what will make the right impression. A simple black gown, elegant without being flashy, suitable for a dinner party where I’m meant to be seen but not outshine anyone.
He’s thought of everything except asking me what I wanted.
Another pounding knock makes me jump. Thank God I’d finished applying my mascara already. Slipping on my heels, which I already regret, I open the door and almost swallow my tongue.
River is standing there in her number one uniform, and she looks hot as hell. Heruniform is immaculate. The Navy jumper with its distinctive square collar, the black silk scarf tied perfectly, the white front crisp and bright. Her tub hat sits precisely, the HMS Queen Elizabeth tally visible on the band. The polished boots gleam. She looks every inch the professional sailor.
And I want to mess her up.
Fuck!
“Good evening. I’m here to escort you to the dinner.” Her tone is cool and detached.
“That’s very thoughtful.” I’m going to ignore the ice she’s throwing my way.
Grabbing my phone, I step out. We barely fit side by side, which means I have to stand way too close to her. Close enough to smell whatever soap she uses—something clean and masculine. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off her body. She keeps her eyes forward, jaw tight, liketouching me would burn. The steep steps are so much harder to navigate in this getup.
Outside the captain’s private dining room, River spends a few seconds straightening her already immaculate uniform. She’s visibly nervous.
Her hands are shaking slightly as she adjusts her collar for the third time. There’s a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead despite the cool air. She keeps swallowing like her mouth has gone dry.
“Hey, are you okay?” I ask out of politeness.
“I’m fine. Shall we?”
I’d love to say something snarky, but there’s no point. I’ve bruised her ego, and she’s acting out. I’ll take it.
The door swings open before she has a chance to knock. My dad stands with the captain drinking expensive scotch. They’re both in their formal uniforms. The room is dressed up, as if the bloody King of England is popping by for his tea.
“Cleo, would you like a drink?” Dad calls. River comes to attention and salutes. “At ease, Dawson, no need for the formalities this evening. I appreciate you taking time out of your day to help Cleo.”
She relaxes slightly. “It’s my pleasure, sir.”
Dad hands me a glass of wine. I’d like to down the entire glass, but that would be inappropriate, right?
I can’t wait for this dinner to be over with.
