“Sure.” I shrug. “I don’t want to pull the wool over anyone’s eyes. I just want to buy you some island time while we’re in Aguilla by pretending we’re dating.”
“Thank you,” he says quietly.
I blink.
Then I snort.
“Okay, let’s not get carried away. I’m no saint. No pedestal for me.” I make a vague circling motion in the air, like I’m physically removing myself from it.
His brow creases. “What?”
“I definitely want something from you.” I lift my mug and take a loud, unapologetic sip of caffeine.
A corner of his mouth twitches. “Yeah?”
“Yes.” I nod seriously. “I need insider information. Schedules. Habits. Tells.” I wave a hand. “Anything you can give me about Blake that doesn’t involve espionage or federal crimes. My fifty-thousand-dollar payout depends on it.”
“Right,” he says, amused. “The fee. You need my intel to do your job.”
A quiet laugh slips out of him, and just like that, the heaviness loosens.
“Good,” he says. “I’d hate to think you were doing this for free.”
“Please.” I take another sip and wink. “I don’t even answer emails for free.”
He clears his throat, focus snapping back into place. “Alright then. Let’s talk about your problem.”
I smile. “Yes. The reason I’m here.”
“Today, we’ll coordinate with Barbie Wintz and have you on the yacht as her plus one,” he says. “It’ll just be the couple and their friends. My family won’t be around.” His gaze holds mine. “So we keep it cool. No labels. No public couple act. And I’ll help you get time with Blake.”
“So,” I say, nodding, “I’m socially single.”
“Yes.”
“That helps.” I pause. “Although—just so you know—something tells me Blake might actually find me more interesting if he thinks I’m off-limits.”
West’s brow arches. “You’ve known him less than a day.”
“I’m observant.”
He studies me for a beat, then shakes his head. “Fine. We’ll adapt.”
“Good.” I lift my mug in a mock toast. “So on the yacht today—we’re just two people who happen to know each other.”
“And you get to work,” he says.
I smile. “I do my best work under pressure.”
His smile turns slow. Dangerous. Amused.
“Wonderful.”
I take a sip of coffee, already bracing myself.
The yacht is obscene.
Gleaming white decks. Polished chrome. Plush loungers. Staff in crisp white uniforms glide silently, offering flutes of champagne that probably cost more per sip than my weekly coffee budget.
