Boomer’s gaze locks onto Elodie as if he’s just found his favorite storyline. “Enchanting,” he murmurs, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. “You must give me a private tour of your domain.”
Tinsley growls and bares her fangs. So much for her fantasies coming true. But it looks as if Elodie’s dirty dreams are well on their way. Per usual.
“Oh, honey,” Elodie purrs like the big cat predator she is. “I’ll give you the tour, but only if you can handle the premium package.”
Elodie herself would be the premium package.
“And Trixie here is our resident art instructor,” Wes carries on, nodding in my direction.
“Perfect!” Boomer exclaims, eyeing me from head to foot as if he were conducting a professional assessment. “You look relatable,approachable, and are giving the everywoman energy that balances all this glamour.” He gestures vaguely at the soap wives.
I shake my head a touch because I’m not entirely sure if I’ve just been complimented or categorized as furniture.
“And next to her is Ransom Baxter, our head of vessel security,” Wes finishes, with just enough edge in his voice to remind everyone of their old rivalry.
It’s true. Wes and Ransom have history. Wes was once married to Ransom’s sister until she left him for a drug dealer. Ransom blamed Wes. Wes blamed himself, and they’ve been on edge ever since. But honestly, as of late, they seem to get along just fine. Mostly.
“Ransom Baxter.” Boomer’s eyes light up. “The FBI legend! Outstanding! Your presence will add some serious credibility to our security scenes.”
“I’m not in your show,” Ransom states flatly.
“Not yet,” Boomer replies with a wink.
“And these two ladies are some of our most valued passengers,” Wes adds, nodding toward Bess and Nettie.
Nettie, whose rhinestone-studded sunglasses are now perched atop her wild gray curls, is still ogling Santino as if she’s planning their future. “Hubba hubba.”
Bess elbows Nettie, even though her own cheeks are flushing. “What she means is we’re so glad you’re all here.” She takes a wobbly step closer to Santino, and I’m afraid her knees will give way. “We’ve been dying to kiss you—” Her eyes widen in horror. “Meet you! I meantmeetyou!”
“Kiss,meet, it’s all inevitable,” Santino replies with a wink that probably melted television screens in the ’80s. And most certainly melted the women in the vicinity, including yours truly.
Wes and Boomer share a laugh that sounds like a temporary alliance, before Wes turns to address the growing crowd in the atrium.
“For those who haven’t heard, theEmerald Queenis hosting a special voyage this time around. Luxe Network is filming its newest reality franchise,Trophy Wives of Paradise,featuring the wives of daytime television’s most famous villains.”
Nettie sighs. “And what delicious villains they are.”
The crowd murmurs with excitement, and I notice several passengers openly taking photos of the celebrities among us. Believe me, I’m more than tempted. Before this trip is up, I’ll make sure I’ve taken a selfie with each and every one of these villainously delicious men. Some of them twice.
Ransom gives me the side-eye as if he could read my mind, and this time I shrug in lieu of an apology.
“And I’ve got a surprise!” Boomer jumps in as if he’s never one to miss a spotlight. “We’ve been secretly filming since you all boarded!” He flashes that Hollywood smile that probably paid for his yacht. “All of you are officially part ofTrophy Wives of Paradise, our newest reality sensation that’s going to storm not only the seas, but every viewing device on the planet.” He spreads his arms wide as if he’s just bestowed a gift upon us. “The cameras start rolling tomorrow morningofficially, so be sure to get your beauty sleep.” He points to the wives at hand. “Think of this cruise as one big, floating film set for your fabulous new careers in reality television. And cash, lots of cash, which equals freedom. Think of that, too.”
I don’t miss how every wife’s eyes light up at that last word—freedom. And I say, let freedom ring. I guess even the wives of famous soap opera villains can use a few more dimes to rub together.
“We’ve also welcomed fifty lucky fans who won tickets to join this special sailing,” Wes continues. “I’d like to invite everyone associated with the show to attend a special bon voyage party in the Golden Compass Lounge once we’ve set sail.”
“Black tie optional, drama mandatory,” Boomer adds with alaugh that sounds well-rehearsed and yet somehow feels genuine. “And I personally encourage the captain and his crew to join us.” His eyes flick to Elodie. “I especially look forward to seeing you there, Ms. Abernathy.”
Tinsley practically teleports between them, adjusting her neckline with the precision of a chess player making a rather criticalchestymove. “I’ll personally ensure everything runs smoothly, Mr. Beaumont.”
“Please, call me Boomer,” he says, already turning back to the soap stars in our midst. “Shall we discuss some preliminary shooting locations? I’m thinking sunset on the upper deck for the intro sequences...”
The celebrity contingent drifts toward the elevators, trailing with designer luggage and clouds of expensive cologne and perfume.
Tinsley watches them go with her clipboard clutched to her chest like emotional armor.
“Really?” she hisses at Elodie. “You’ve already got the producer wrapped around your little finger?”
