“Really? Half an hour?”
“Looks like we make a great team.” She hands the envelope over. “You’re better at riddles than I am.”
I’m filled with stories, but I don’t speak,
A place for the curious and those who seek.
Not a treasure chest, but in me, you’ll find,
Countless gems for your mind.
What am I?
“You’ll know this one,” I say, handing her the card.
Addie smiles, and this time, she’s the one leading. We go down two flights of stairs and open the tall, wooden library door to reveal the grand prize. A huge bouquet of pink flowers sits in a large vase, a glass trophy glimmering beside it.
“Looks like you’re mine for the next task.” Addie beams, hugging the flowers to her chest.
And fuck... not dipping my head to taste that smile is almost physically painful.
It takes two hours before all the pairs come back from the treasure hunt. Henry and Victoria came in third, and if that wasn’t enough to fuck up her mood, learning we won did the trick.
Save for her occasional glaring and snarky tone, the rest of the day passes without drama. We spend most of our time roaming the yacht, indulging in gourmet food, and lounging by the pool once the sun’s not so scorching.
My brothers check in on me in the late afternoon, their bets firmly in place, same stakes as usual: a hundred bucks.
Theo’s the most optimistic, wagering that Addie and I will turn thefakeintorealby the end of the trip. The rest play the game more conservatively. Shawn, basing his decision on Addie’s background check and her family’s fortune, has decided we won’t even make it to the end and I’ll fly home early.
That got me curious.
In a solitary moment, while Addie’s getting ready for the romantic date we’ve won, I google her father and almost fall off the damn chair when his net worth pops up on the screen.
Thirty-five billion dollars.
Flicking through a few articles about Henry Weston, I find a mention of Grant Whitaker. His net worth? Three billion.
No wonder Addie’s mother hates me... compared to the son-in-law she wants, I’m a tiny fish among whales.
FIFTEEN
Addie
THE TOP DECK HAS BEEN TRANSFORMEDinto a picturesque al-fresco dining space. Hundreds of glittering string lights are hung around a table, set under a pergola on the far end where nothing obscures the view of the ocean. The scent of fresh flowers wafts through the air, mixing with the salty evening breeze.
A pop-up bar stands on the other side of the deck, manned by two crew members. One of them leads us to the table as soon as we arrive. It’s all very elegant, but far from what I had in mind when Colt made the mistake of letting me choose the menu. As it’s a whatever-you-desire dinner, we were asked earlier what we wanted to eat. Colt said he trusts my judgment.
Bad call.
He pulls my chair out before taking a seat, playing the boyfriend part with utmost engagement. My family’s on the main deck, but there are cameras everywhere, and the crew is loyal to my mother, so there’s no room for slip-ups.
“This is too formal,” I tell the waiter, wrinkling my nose at the twelve pieces of cutlery neatly arranged around my plate. “Can we swap all this for blankets and pillows?”
Colt cocks an eyebrow. “Picnic style?”
“Why not? The food I ordered doesn’t scream elegance.”
The waiter silently awaits our decision, and once Colt nods, he ushers us to the bar while he swaps the setting.
