“I finished talking to the twins and Fiona,” he says.
I cross my arms and stand near the door, making sure to leave it ajar. The robe is warm and goes all the way down to my shins, covering up more skin than most of the clothes I brought in my duffel bag, but even so. This feels invasive.
“How are the others?” I ask, hoping to get this over with fast.
Trey’s mouth twists. “Not good. Fiona is absolutely hysterical. Rachel is trying to calm her down. Ashley is…blaming herself, I think.”
I examine the twitch jumping on his left eyelid. “You knew. About the affair.”
He sits down on my bed, and the presumption, the unasked way he plops down, irks me. It’s technically his yacht—everything in this room is his, but I don’t appreciate it. “Of course I knew. Carl and I are…were tight. I didn’t approve, though,” he says, looking up at me. “I’m all for non-monogamy, don’t get me wrong. I’m not into relationships myself. But the people I get involved with know that. Cheating on Fee with a girl she’s basically roommates with wasn’t smart.”
“You put a bunch of young, hot people on a yacht in the middle of the water,” I tell him. “You can’t be surprised that they all startedhooking up with each other. That’s the premise of like a dozen reality shows.”
Trey cocks his head at me, placing both hands on the mattress underneath him and leaning back slightly, as if he needs more space to get a better view of me. “You seem…different. From the other day, I mean. When we talked on the deck during the party.”
Duh.
I seem “different” because I’m not starstruck or complimentary or channeling Sage’s extroversion anymore. I no longer care about Trey hiring me or my career path with Royal Yachts. There are other jobs out there; I’ll find one that doesn’t ask for my soul and/or life.
I was so awed by this man when I spoke with him at the party. I desperately wanted him to like me, see me as capable, so that he would think of me as a long-term employee instead of an influencer. Now I can’t imagine ever working for him again. He’s one of those men who thinks the world was shaped around him when he was born.
I don’t want to work for Trey. All I want is to get off this boat and away from these toxic people who might be murderers. More pressingly, I want him out of my damn room.
I shrug. “I’m not a fan of this renegade detective work.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Isn’t it?” I cross my arms and stare at him baldly. “You’re trying to find out who destroyed the bridge so you have someone to blame for Carl’s death. And by what means? Osmosis? Whoever did it isn’tgoing to be willing to tell you just because you turn on the charm and ask nicely.”
Trey leans forward, his forearms resting on his dark sweatpants, which probably cost more than my monthly rent. “A mandied. I’m checking in with everyone. I want to make sure you’re all doing okay. I know you’re new, but these girls were close to Carl. And if anyone felt guilty and wanted to come clean about the bridge because of it… Well, I want to hear that.”
“I didn’t destroy the bridge,” I say, hoping he’ll leave now. “I didn’t even know it existed until you showed it to me. And I’ll be happy to tell that to the police too when they finally rescue us.”
“Yes, the police, of course. Listen.” Trey gets to his feet and moves closer to the door, closer to me. I step back so that my shoulders are against the wall. “I want to handle this matter in-house. I have a very competent security team made up of former military and police officers. I’m sure they will be able to handle this.”
“Hang on,” I say slowly. “What ‘matter’ are you handling in-house? The destruction of property or…”
“Carl was my friend. My responsibility. I will handle everything.” Trey takes a step closer to me again.
“You can’t do that.” I glance out the open door. The hallway is empty and quiet. The sound of another wave smacking into the side of the yacht comes from behind Trey.
Trey presses, “I trust my men to do a better job of this than the local cops. They’ll prioritize it.”
“I’m no Supreme Court justice, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how the law works,” I argue. “You can’t decide to not involve the police when someone dies on your property. Even if it’s an accident.”
“You can if you’re me.” He smiles then, donning a charming, self-deprecating expression that lightens his features and makes me nervous. He is only a few feet from me. He smells like whiskey and cologne. He reaches out and very slowly, very gently, drags a finger down the side of my face. “You know, you remind me of Viv, a little bit. Sharp tongue. Unafraid.”
“Actually, I’m very afraid,” I say. “I’m trapped on a yacht during a hurricane with a dead body upstairs, and now a man I don’t know at all is cornering me in my own room.”
Trey’s hand freezes and drops from my face. The immodest glint in his eyes vanishes. He clears his throat and recites as if speaking from a script: “I’m very sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. That wasn’t my intention. I only wanted to make sure you were okay. It’s been a long night. Or very early morning. Whatever.” He avoids my gaze. “Get some rest. We’ll worry about our next steps when the sun is up.Ifthe sun comes up. Maybe there will be a break in the weather soon.”
“Doesn’t seem likely,” I say drily. “Haven’t had a stroke of luck yet.”
“Well, we’re due for one then,” Trey replies, moving to the door.
“Hey, Trey?”
He pauses, suddenly looking hopeful, like I might have changedmy mind about having my face stroked by a pompous billionaire. “Yeah?”
