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The woman beside me giggles. “Teetotaller, huh?”
“Just for this trip,” I reply tightly.
“I haven’t introduced myself.” She launches into an introduction that goes in through one ear and out the other. Her name slips past me and I pick up my pen again, my fingers itching to return to my report. Cari’s right, I can be rude. I know that. I’ve heard it from enough people to know there’s truth in it.
But she’s taken the brunt of that more than most. I’ve been short with her more times than I can count and she just takes it in her stride, calling me out on many occasions. My red-headed spitfire is the only one who’ll stand up to me.
The woman beside me keeps talking, but I have no interest in the conversation. I turn to her as she babbles on, something about her job. There’s something vaguely familiar about her face, but I don’t want to engage enough to figure it out. Then it hits me like a punch in the face. I met her at a gala dinner. She’s a journalist.
“Please leave,” I finally say, cutting her off mid-sentence.
Her eyes widen, clearly shocked by my bluntness. The martini glass dangles in her hand, her long lashes fluttering. “I’m just being polite, passing the time—”
“And I told you, I’m busy.” I know how they work. Eliciting stories, taking snippets of conversation out of context and making a fictional story. I avoid these people at all costs.
She huffs, her lips tightening. “So rude.”
“So nosy,” I shoot back, waiting for her to get the hint and leave. But she just sits there, sipping her martini like she belongs by my side.
I stop typing and square my gaze at her. “You’re sitting in my seat.”
“It’s empty,” she says, as if that justifies her intrusion.
“Just the way I like it.”
Her mouth opens, but then snaps shut. I lean forward, my tone dropping. “If you don’t move in the next thirty seconds, see that guy over there?” I nod toward the burly man a few rows over—my bodyguard.
A flash of uncertainty crosses her face as she looks at him.
“I’ll have him move you,” I say flatly.
Her cheeks flush pink. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would. I’ve done it before. Do you want to make headlines on social media?”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t say a word. She stands up, still holding her martini, and slinks away, clearly embarrassed.
I sink back into my seat, exhaling in relief. Peace. Finally. I return to my report, letting the steady rhythm of typing calm me down. A moment later, my bodyguard comes over.
“Everything okay, Mr. Knight?”
“It is now,” I mutter, not bothering to look up.
Once I finish a few more lines of the report, I stand up and glance toward Cari and Brooke. They’re sitting together, heads close, focused on something. Brooke’s coloring, and Cari’s probably smiling at her, in that effortless way she has of making Brooke feel at ease.
For all my grumbling, I did the right thing in bringing Cari. Brooke adores her. Cari always makes an effort with her, and she’s just so good with her. I need to make sure I don’t piss her off enough that she bolts before the trip is over.
My mind drifts to why Cari wants to leave her job in the first place. After everything with her mom, maybe I pushed too hard. She didn’t give me a good reason—just that vague “I need a change of scenery” line. I didn’t understand it at the time.
But now, it’s starting to click.
She wants to get away fromme.
I’ve been too demanding, too rude. Maybe on this trip, I should try to be nice.
Chapter 15
CARI