My brain threatens to explode.
“What’s wrong?” Elena asks behind me.
The detonation speeds closer, not only at the interruption but the reminder of her deference to my father’s men.
“Nothing.” I shove my cell back into my pocket. “Go help Isla pack, and once you’re finished you can pack your own belongings.”
Surprise blankets her expression. “Is this about your guests? I didn’t want to?—”
“They weren’tguests.”
“I know, but… I thought placating them would be?—”
“Your judgment is no longer required. Once we dock, you need to find another yacht to work on.”
Her face falls. “Sir?—”
“That’ll be all, Elena.”
I stalk inside in search of the captain, finding him on the bridge. I arrange for our return to New York, informing him he’ll have to dock minus the two confined deckhands, and that he’ll need to begin the process of hiring an entirely new crew—both deck and interior—while ensuring the assholes who laid hands on Isla are blacklisted from yachting indefinitely.
I eat breakfast in the study and have Isla’s delivered to my cabin.
I distance myself from her, eyeballing the clock. Every second drills into my patience, a reminder that keeping away from her is the right thing to do. Yet I can’t stop imagining her upstairs, alone, vulnerable, and wearing my fucking shirt.
I last two hours, maybe less, before I cave and return to my open cabin door. She sits on the edge of the bed, brows drawn as she types into her phone.
“Everything alright?” I tell myself I’m asking to make sure she’s okay, but it’s an excuse to be in her orbit again. To replay the vicious loop.
She lets out a slow breath, not looking up. “I’m doing damage control. I sent out a company-wide email explaining my appointment as interim CEO.” She meets my gaze, eyes pained. “I told them my father almost died from a heart attack and made the excuse that my concern for him has impacted my focus, which is why my decision making has been entirely contradictory.”
“Is it true? About the heart attack?”
She nods.
I’d known something wasn’t right with Philip, but the fucks I have to give about his health are minimal. What worries me is how she’s had to juggle this burden on top of everything else.
“The email will hopefully dilute the damage to my reputation and buy me a few more days before having to return to the office.” She turns her head, focusing out the window as the coastline sharpens in the distance. “I need more time to process.”
She needs more than time. She needs a fortress. An army. A protector who isn’t one bad decision away from becoming a monster.
I push from the doorframe and go to her.
“He didn’t want anyone to know.” She looks defeated. Remorseful. “But senior staff were demanding an explanation for my behavior, and I didn’t know how to justify what I’d done.”
My hands flex uselessly at my sides. I hate that this mess has tarnished what should’ve been her flawless transition into power. “He sold your future to save his own. A little medical transparency is the least of what he deserves.”
She winces. “I know… But he’s still my father.”
I drag in a breath, understanding the brutal conflict of loving the person who causes you the most harm and wishing she didn’t have to feel it, too. What I also understand is that being near her and witnessing her pain isn’t good for either of us. Not when I’m struggling to curb the violence that surges with her suffering.
She sniffs and fidgets with the strap of her tote.
“Do you have everything?” I ask.
“Elena packed for me.” She indicates my T-shirt that she’s still wearing. “I hope you don’t mind. Your clothes are comfortable and I couldn’t stomachcorporate slaythis morning.” Her chuckle is faint as she raises the hem an inch up her thighs, revealing my shorts underneath. “I stole these too... Not that I can get them to fit.”
The waistband swims around her hips.
