Page 6 of Shark’s Pride

Isn’t that the million-dollar question?

“I was…kind of hoping you had that answer,” I confessed. “Admittedly, I’m way outside my wheelhouse here.”

Her new pause was like a long-distance hug. “You just need to sit down and talk to her, Bas. Tell her how you feel—and I’m talking about the feelings above your waistline. It’s the only way to make sure signals don’t get crossed and messages aren’t misunderstood in a new relationship. And we both know how equally uncomfortable we are talking about our feelings.”

I gave her a token grumble of agreement.

“I love you, Cassiopeia. You know that I do, right?”

“I most definitely do. I’ll talk to you when you get home?”

“You will. Bye, Dub.”

“Bye, Bas. Have a safe flight home.”

My sister disconnected. For several minutes after, I sat staring at my phone’s dark screen, letting her final word roll through my mind.

Home.

Twelve more hours and I’d be back on American soil. Another two and I’d be walking into my own house.

All of that felt damn good right now. But not completely fulfilling. To accomplish that, I had to track down the redhead who’d made an Olympic sport out of evading me. The second I did, I’d set her back on track.

Only then would everything be right in my world again.

Chapter Two

Sebastian

First days back at work after being away always reminded me of what it must be like to work in a trauma emergency room. From the moment I walked in, every person with a problem thought theirs was the most important and in the direst need of my attention.

I spent the first two hours triaging the perceived emergencies and then handling the only two that actually were. Once those situations were dealt with, the smaller fires were either passed on to the department heads that should’ve handled them in the first place or scheduled through Terryn to return when they could present viable solutions along with the dilemma. Which was something I preached to my staff over and over. I didn’t want a line of whiners at my door every morning. I needed a team of problem solvers. If someone couldn’t be one of those types of thinkers, Shark Enterprises wasn’t the place for them.

The morning hours went fast—to the point that when Grant stuck his head in, I had daunting stacks of things to run through with him. Even more alarming: I wasn’t sure we’d be finished by lunch. But damn it, I’d be free when Abbigail arrived if it killed me. She’d been judiciously ignoring me since I’d gotten back from my trip, and that point alone kept working its way back to the top of my personal priority list.

Since my goal wasn’t to be dead when she arrived, I dug in on business priorities. First things first. I committed my whole attention as Grant filled me in on the progress he was making with the city regarding the plans for the Edge. After all, this was the original problem that had taken me from Abbi our first night together, and I needed to feel like at least some part of that debacle was cleared up. Our planning commission liaison was already showing his worth by helping navigate through some early red tape with the permit rejections we’d encountered two weeks prior.

After that was handled, we discussed my trip. Our specific topic was how the new Malaysian Ministry of Transport’s planned changes could affect the way we moved cargo in and out of that area of the world. Malaysia was one of the most significant shipping lanes for our company. If we started having trouble with new embargos or restrictions, we might need to consider alternate routes for our shipments.

“That’s ridiculous.” Grant stood and paced along the windows. “We will add not just days but weeks to our transport times. We can’t bring changes like that to our brokers. We will lose business faster than we can imagine.” Though I held my hand up to calm him, he wasn’t having it. “Seriously, Bas. This is huge. And I mean huge in a bad way. Not huge in a good, nine-inch cock way.”

“How did you turn this into a dick reference?”

He shrugged and grinned. “It’s a gift; I don’t know. Why aren’t you freaking out, though? This will cost us millions in business. You understand that, right?” His smile dropped as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I understand completely. But you haven’t let me finish.” I steepled my fingers. “I’ve already worked out a solution.”

“Why didn’t you say that?” he snapped. “Why let me dangle on the end of the line over here?”

“Well, for one thing, it’s kind of fun.” I added a smirk, making him scowl harder. “Watching you get all worked up, knowing it’s for no good reason. And honestly, let it be a lesson to you for interrupting someone before he’s finished making his point.”

“God.” He shook his head. “You can be such a bastard.”

I shrugged. “True. Should we call the press?”

He kept up his glare but recovered quicker than most, having dealt with my shit for so many years. “What’s the solution, then? Spit it out, man.”

I rested my chin atop my fingers. “My mind went to the same place yours did, of course. And there were two solutions. Number one: come up with an alternate shipping lane, which we naturally already have in that area, right? We already explored all of this when strategizing for other unforeseen problems. Weather, pirates…whatever.”