His knife scrapes the plate. “Mandy…”
“I appreciate you coming to give me a ride on short notice.”
“It wasn’t just a ride.” There’s a hint of a snarl in his voice. “I rescued you.”
“Semantics.”
His fingers curl on the knife.
I take a sip of coffee. “It’s my problem. I’m handling it. Don’t worry—you won’t be bothered by it again.”
“Of course I won’t, because you’re not leaving this island.”
“That’s not going to work for me.”
His large hands slam onto the table. “Then tell me who the fuck was after you.”
The bacon on my plate bounces off, and Pepper snaps it up before it can hit the ground.
“Of course I’m not going to tell you!” I shriek, jumping up. “You’re a lunatic. You’re going to go allFortunate Sonon him.”
“Why are you protecting him?” His fist slams the table again, sending the cutlery flying, toppling the drinks. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m not protecting him. I’m protectingyou. You’re going to go ballistic and do something crazy and go to jail. I’m not letting anyone else’s life get ruined because of my mistake.”
“Mandy.” My boss leans over the table. “I am one of the most powerful men in the country. I don’t need you, a girl with a Starbucks addiction and an affinity for sparkly gel pens, to protect me.”
“I am not a girl. I am a grown-ass woman, and I am making my own choices.”
“Fine.” He sits back down and returns to his food. “Guess you’re my permanent house guest then.”
“You cannot just keep someone locked up like Stuart Richmond.” I take an angry bite of the last piece of bacon on my plate.
“Stuart Richmond trapped people in a shitty windowless New Jersey basement. This is a two-hundred-million-dollar property.”
“You can’t keep me here on your island all weekend.”
The set of his jaw, the tone of his voice, lets me know he absolutely can and absolutely will.
“I have to go to my parents’ for dinner. My mom’s making my favorite.”
“Your favorite,” he spits.
“Loaded tater tots and sloppy joes.”
“I can have a Michelin-quality meal served to you at a private oceanside table.”
“Hard pass.”
“Fine. You can starve, but you’re not leaving.”
“You can’t!” I squawk. “My mother will freak out. You don’t understand—she is from the Midwest. She is paranoid and crazy and retired. I give it thirty-six hours before she has the Navy SEALS out here storming your island, not because she knows people but because she nags. Corporations hate her. She once made a mistake when she was ordering new cabinets for her kitchen renovation, and she badgered Home Depot until they not only gave her all the cabinets for free but also a store credit,andthe CEO called her personally to apologize. If you think your port contract is dead now—which, again, let me off the island and I will make sure that it’s not—”
He sniffs.
“It and your reputation will be toast if my mother goes on a mission.”
“Fine. I’ll take you to your parents’ house.” He stands, takes my plate, and starts loading it with more food. “Then you’re coming right back here.”
