1
LOGAN
“Are you kidding me? The fuckingFunfettiis missing as well?”
I’d been on my way back to my office when the call came in. Not wanting to make a scene, I had no choice but to duck into our main conference room in the cruise ship’s business center to take it. No need for my valued guests to overhear the beatdown I was about to deliver over a cake flavor. I even managed to grin believably while I threaded through them.
Could they pick up on the tension in my face? Probably not. A lifetime of customer service meant that my bland, pleasant expression could mask a fucking volcano of fury.
Which was exactly what I was at this very important moment.
It was theRoyal Oceania’s maiden voyage, and even though I’d taken every precaution to ensure a flawless experience for my guests, shit was already blowing up in my face, and we’d barely left port.
Thankfully, the business center was empty and probably would remain so for the voyage. TheRoyal Oceaniawas our program’s first family-focused cruise line, which would hopefully mean most passengers would opt to spend time making memories, not holding meetings. The conference room wall was a giant window that looked out to the rest of the business center, so I flipped the switch to the smart glass windows to turn them from clear to opaque to ensure that no one would be able to see me seething as I held the asshole’s feet to the fire. I flipped open my laptop and spread out.
Based on his shitty attitude, I was going to be anchored here for a while.
Did I have to raise my voice? Of course. The many f-bombs I dropped might have been a little over the top, but that was between the two of us. The phrase “curse like a sailor” existed for a reason, and while my vessel had a motor, I still honored that part of the legacy of a life on the water. When the supplier tried pinning the Funfetti oversight onmyteam, I lost it and unleashed a string of expletives so vicious that I probably made his ears bleed.
I hoped so, anyway. It was the least he deserved.
A sharp knock interrupted my tirade, and I chose to ignore it. The supplier wasn’t backing down, or even apologizing, and everything else could wait until I got him where I wanted him.
“I’m sorry, didyoujust tellmeto fuck off?” I roared into the phone.
Another round of knocking, this time even more urgent.
Andcontinuous.After ten seconds of nonstop knocking, I finally couldn’t take it anymore.
I marched over to the door, flipped the lock, and yanked it open. “What? Does a locked door mean nothing to you?”
The woman on the other side looked shocked at my fury, her hand frozen in the air.
Nina Reyes. I prided myself on knowing every employee’s name, although it would be hard to forget a face like hers. What the hell did the Kids’ Club manager want with me? My micromanager tendencies meant I also knew exactly what everyone was supposed to be doing at any given moment—I literally ran a tight ship—and Miss Reyes was supposed to be doing a baking lesson with our young cruisers.
Specifically, making Funfetti cupcakes.Damnit.
“Yeah, I know,” I barked at her. “I’m on the phone with the fucking idiot supplier. Can’t Chef sub in another cupcake flavor?”
She frowned at me, like it wasmyfault our carefully planned activity had fallen apart.
“No, unfortunately he said they’re behind unloading a late shipment, so they need more time.” She pointed beyond me, into the conference room. “I came up here because I was thinking that in the meantime we could?—”
“Listen, I don’t have the bandwidth to troubleshoot this with you right now. I need to deal with this fuckwad’s dumpster fire, okay?”
Her pretty face went even more pained, and she glanced over her shoulder.
“What?” I demanded for a second time.
“Fuckwad!” A tiny voice sounded off from behind her.
I swallowed hard. No, this couldn’t be.
“Dumpster fire, dumpster fire,” another sang out. “Fuckwad dumpster fire!”
I held my phone to my chest and leaned out the door so I could see beyond her.
“Fantastic. Thank you for givingall of usa vocab lesson,” Nina fumed at me. “Doyouwant to explain to their parents once the f-bombs start flying over dinner?”
