We waded through the shallow water to the beach, where I spread a blanket on the sand. Dede shed her cover-up, revealing a black bikini beneath. Despite having seen her naked countless times over the past weeks, the sight still affected me viscerally.
“Race you to the water,” she challenged, already running toward the waves.
I caught her at the water’s edge, wrapping my arms around her waist and lifting her as she laughed. We stumbled into the sea together, the cool water was a welcome relief from the August heat.
Dede floated on her back, eyes closed. “I’m going to miss this when I go back.”
I swam closer, unwilling to consider her departure. “Tell me about this client you are pursuing. The bourbon distillery.”
She righted herself, treading water. “You remember that? I mentioned it once, weeks ago.”
“I remember everything you tell me,” I replied simply.
She smiled. “It’s a Kentucky bourbon distillery with over a century of heritage. The brand needs a complete overhaul whilemaintaining its authentic roots. They’ll begin accepting bids in October.”
“And what is your approach?”
She outlined her strategy as we swam, occasionally stopping to float together in the gentle swells. Her understanding of how to balance tradition with modern market expansion impressed me, though her pricing strategy had flaws.
“You are undervaluing your services,” I told her as we made our way back to the shallows. “If they are expanding at the rate you describe, they can afford to pay twenty percent more than what you are asking, yes?”
“You think I should increase my quote?”
“I know you should. Your strategy, it will preserve their heritage while opening new markets. That is worth a premium.” I pulled her toward me in the waist-deep water. “And open with their historical significance compared to competitors.”
She wrapped her arms around my neck. “Is this how you close your deals, Mr. Car Guy?”
“Among other techniques.” I untied the knot of her bikini top, letting the fabric fall away between us.
“Such as?”
“Understanding what other party truly wants.” My fingers trailed along her bare skin. “And making them believe you are only one who can provide it.”
She pressed against me. “Effective strategy.”
“Very.”
Our kisses deepened as we moved to shallower water until we were barely covered by the waves. I laid her on the wet sand where water still lapped at our bodies, then settled my weight over her, bracing myself on my forearms.
“Come to Belgium with me next week,” I said against her lips. “My son, he is racing there. My jet, it leaves Wednesday morning.”
“Your jet,” she repeated, pulling back to study my face. “Are you serious right now? You have a plane?”
“Of course.”
She laughed. “Oh my God, are you in the mob? Because the yacht, the private beaches, and the jet are straight out of some mafia movie. What exactly do you do with cars that pays for all this?”
“I run legitimate automotive corporation,” I replied, amused by her reaction. “We manufacture high-performance engines and racing technology, among other components.”
“Right.” She regarded me skeptically. “And how many people have you had ‘taken care of’?”
“None since last Tuesday, I promise.”
Dede pushed at my chest playfully. “I’m serious, Aris.”
“So am I.” I captured her hands, bringing them to my lips. “Come with me, yes? We will have our own suite. You will not meet my family.”
She bit her lip, considering. “That’s very tempting, but I’ll pass.”
