“I can tell.” I chuckled.
“What about you?” He raised an eyebrow. “Any island romance developing?”
“Nah. Not unless you count Otto.” I grinned. “Besides, I’m trying to keep a low profile, remember?” But a part of me wished otherwise.
“Turns out Mitch was right,” Dyson said. “I could stay here forever. I’ve never felt so relaxed.”
“Look out,” I said. “The tropics have got a hold of you. Can’t believe we’re setting sail tomorrow, though… at this rate, Kareena’s probably going to emerge from your cabin a few days in.”
“That’s actually not a bad idea. Thanks.”
“Did I hear my name?” Kareena appeared and wrapped her arms around Dyson from behind. “I can’t believe it’s your last night here!”
“We were just talking about you stowing away,” Dyson replied, making us all laugh.
“Thanks for keeping him occupied. It’s been nice finally getting a bit of peace,” I said with a grin.
“My pleasure.” Her eyes sparkled. “So, where are you headed when you leave tomorrow?”
We talked about the next leg of the trip, the islands we wanted to explore, the trip to the Gold Coast Dyson was insisting we make until the music inside suddenly pulsed louder.
“I love this song!” Kareena grabbed Dyson’s hand. “Come dance with me.” The two of them disappeared inside.
The last remnants of red vanished from the sky.
Dyson had always brought fun into our controlled school existence, and I’d miss that when he left. But even from across the world, I knew he’d still drag me into his—
A series of clicks behind me caught my attention.
Shit, not again!My gut twisted.
Cameras were everywhere, closing in fast as questions fired from every direction. “Please,” I said, backing toward the door. “Just give me some space.”
“Karson!” someone shouted. “Will you join SolStar now that you’ve finished at Drake Academy?”
“Can you make a statement about your father’s latest project?” another called.
“Are you seeing anyone right now? We won’t tell,” one of them joked.
I bolted inside, slamming the door shut behind me.
A stocky man in a resort uniform stood with his feet planted apart, fists curled, ready for battle. He signaled to security. “Mr. Wells wants his privacy,” he told him. “Hold them back.”
“I’m Ronnie, the manager,” he said, turning to me. “Sorry about that circus.”
“Call me Karson,” I said. “And thanks.”
“You need a way out?” he asked.
“You bet I do.”
He grinned. “Follow me.”
We cut through the kitchen. The noise dropped away, and suddenly everyone was staring at me.
“Nothing to see here!” Ronnie barked. “Back to it, all of you!” The clatter of crockery snapped back to life behind us.
He pushed through a back door into a dim corridor, stepping out into the shadows. A red golf cart sat beneath a tree. “How’s this for a getaway car?” He flashed a toothy grin.
