Page 20 of Bad for Business (Pembroke Hills #2)

TWENTY

CAMILLE

“Drink this.”

I stifle a groan as a familiar voice pulls me back from my pity party. I knew I shouldn’t have stepped foot onto this damn yacht, but I was too stubborn not to. I didn’t want Ryker to know I had a massive fear of boats.

That worked out great for me. Now he’s getting a front-row seat to how terrified I am.

I direct my gaze to Ryker, hating the smirk on his perfectly full lips and the fact that he’s seeing me like this.

“I’m working. I don’t need a drink right now,” I argue, my eyes bouncing to the martini in his hand.

His eyes narrow on me. “A drink is exactly what you need right now. It’ll loosen you up.” He shakes his hand a little, careful not to spill the drink as he attempts to push it in my direction once again.

I look down at the martini. I don’t want to admit it, but a drink might actually help. It definitely shouldn’t hurt anything, at least. We haven’t even been on the yacht for an hour, and I’m already counting down the seconds until my feet are firmly planted on land.

“Did you poison it?” I ask, my fingers wrapping around the stem of the martini glass.

I hate that the laugh he lets out sends goosebumps down my spine. “Try it and find out,” he encourages, one corner of his mouth lifting up in a smirk.

From the moment I stepped onto Mitchell’s yacht and announced I was coming, Ryker’s mood shifted.

He hasn’t been my biggest fan our entire time in the Hamptons, but there was something different about his mood earlier.

I tried catching his eye as he mingled with the board members, but anytime his eyes met mine, all he did was glare.

His attempt at getting rid of me for the day didn’t work, and he hasn’t bothered hiding his feelings on that matter.

I don’t want to admit it, but from what I’ve seen, he’s done great on his own today. Not that I’d tell him that. Not when he continues to glare at me just like he is right now.

“I’ll pass.”

Ryker shakes his head. “As many times as I’ve fantasized about getting rid of you, you have my word that the drink isn’t poisoned.”

I watch him carefully. I know he wouldn’t actually poison the drink. But I wouldn’t put it past him to maybe spit in it.

“Drink it, Camille,” Ryker demands, his voice tight.

“Why do you care if I drink it?” I ask, looking down at the glass. I just now realize that the martini actually looks perfect. It has two skewers of olives instead of just one, just the way I like it.

Ryker looks away for a moment. The tiny muscles on his chiseled cheekbones flutter as he clenches his jaw. “Because for some reason, I can’t focus on talking with anyone on my future board right now.”

I cock my head to the side. “I don’t understand. What does your inability to focus have anything to do with me?”

He laughs. This one is darker than his normal one. There’s a huskiness to it. One that makes my skin erupt with goosebumps again. “Trust me, I wish I understood, princess. All I can say is that it’s hard to focus on small talk when you’re over here acting like you’re fighting for your life.”

I shake my head. “I’m fine.”

He scoffs. “You haven’t moved from this spot since the moment you got on the boat.” He gestures to the railing next to me. “And you’ve been clutching that for dear life. I’m actually shocked you let go of it to take the drink.”

I frown. Why was he noticing these things? And more importantly, why does he care?

I don’t know how to respond, so instead, I take a drink. My eyes go wide. It’s made perfectly.

“Good?” Ryker prods, his face wiped of any emotion as he watches me carefully.

I don’t miss how when he speaks with everyone else, there’s a glint in his eyes and a smirk that never leaves his lips.

With me, it’s different. Yes, he smirks.

But he also does what he’s doing right now, where he shutters his expression and I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

I take another drink of the martini, trying not to think too hard about the soft rocking of the boat. “It’s okay,” I lie. It’s perfect. I just don’t want to admit that to him.

“Martini, extra dirty, just a splash of vermouth, and six olives instead of three. That’s your order, is it not?”

My fingers tighten around the stem of the glass. That’s exactly my order. I just don’t know how he knows that. I must’ve ordered it at the club at some point.

Except I don’t think I have. I love an extra-dirty martini, but I don’t typically order them at work events. Because once I have one martini, I always think it’s a good idea to have a second.

“I’m just not an olive person,” I lie again. I don’t know why I feel the need to lie to him. I love olives. And the dirtier the martini, the better. I’m just annoyed that he knows my order.

Ryker sighs and takes a step closer to me.

I don’t know why he does it. We’re already close enough.

I can hear him just fine. I had escaped to a less busy area of the yacht in an attempt to not put my displeasure of being on this boat on full display.

Plus, from the upper deck, I could look down and watch Ryker as he milled about, having conversations with board members on the main deck.

“Why do you feel the need to lie?” Ryker asks, his eyes watching me carefully, as if he’s actually interested in my answer.

I press my lips into a thin line at his unexpected question. “What do you mean?”

“I know you’re lying because I know your order.”

“How?”

He stares at me for a moment. I swear I see his face fall for a fraction of a second before he smooths it back into indifference.

“As much as you’d like to forget about it, we shared a night together.

You told me all about your love of olives and how you sometimes have to sweet-talk bartenders into giving you an extra spear of them. ”

I freeze. I hadn’t even thought about that. It was months ago. A small thing like my drink order is not something I was expecting him to remember. “Ryker.” His name escapes my lips. I can’t really think of anything else to say. I don’t know how I feel about him remembering that small detail.

He gestures to the drink. “Drink it and stop panicking. We’re going to be fine.”

I nod, and for what might be the first time, I listen to him.

I take a large drink of the martini, my eyes fluttering shut for a moment as I savor how perfectly the drink is made.

Despite the fear of this boat suddenly sinking, coupled with conflicting feelings about the fact he remembers the small things about the night we shared—even though he left me alone in bed the morning after—my body relaxes ever so slightly.

“Aw, look, she listens,” Ryker drawls. The smirk he gives me is lethal. It reminds me of the one he gave me the first night we met. The one that had me begging for us to leave the party and go back to his place. “Good girl,” he adds, his voice low.

My cheeks get hot. In fact, everything gets hot. I blame the sun for the way my entire body flushes. Memories flash through my mind. This isn’t the first time I’ve heard him call me a good girl. He used it often that New Year’s Eve night, and it’d driven me crazy.

I take another gulp of the martini, already sucking half of it down. I know it’s probably going to go straight to my head since I’ve been too nervous to eat anything despite the large array of food Mitchell Bailey’s staff had put out.

“Easy there, princess. You don’t want to get sloppy. It was just supposed to take the edge off.”

I let out a small groan of annoyance. I hate the nickname, and I hate that he thinks I’d ever be sloppy.

“I know how to handle my alcohol, thank you very much.” I put the drink down on the ledge and grab the railing once more when the boat rocks more than it has been.

Both hands wrap tightly around the metal as I try to reassure myself that Ryker’s right.

Nothing’s going to happen with this boat. We’re going to be fine.

“Why don’t you go mingle?” I offer, needing him to get away from me. He still stands close, and his mandarin and bergamot scent is completely intoxicating.

I hate it.

Ryker laughs. “Fine. But just try to look a little less…scared. I need to focus, and I can’t do it if I’m worried you’re going to jump overboard and swim for the shore.”

I can’t help but laugh at his comment. I look away from his gaze and over to the shore. We really aren’t that far out from land, something that gives me a little reprieve from my fear. “I promise you I won’t be jumping.”

He stares at me for a moment, his lids narrowed. “Why? Can’t swim?” He says it as a joke, but the teasing tilt of his lips falls when I don’t answer right away.

He nods in understanding.

My cheeks heat, and this time, it’s with embarrassment. “I never had the desire as a kid. And the older I got, the less I wanted to swim. It scares me, and I have no interest in doing it. Go ahead and get it over with and laugh at me.”

His brown eyes soften. Actually soften. I try not to think too hard about it. The martini has definitely gone to my head, and now I’m looking at Ryker the way I looked at him the first night we met, and not looking at him like he’s my pain-in-the-ass, entitled client.

He clears his throat. His hand reaches toward me before it drops to his side. I stare at it for a moment, wondering what he was about to do.

Was he going to touch me? Surely not.

Fuck. What is happening on this boat? I need off it. I don’t know what I’m thinking. Of course Ryker wasn’t about to touch me.

“I’m not going to laugh. If the drink doesn’t work and you get too overwhelmed, let me know.” His gaze stays pinned on mine. I can’t move. Not with the way he’s looking at me right now. His eyes search mine, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s looking for.

All I can do is nod. He watches me closely for a few more seconds before he tucks his hands into his pockets and walks away.

The drink does end up taking the edge off. For the rest of the afternoon, I’m not as scared of being on the water as I was when I first stepped onto the yacht.

A different fear overtakes me. It’s the fear of the way my body heats every time I feel Ryker’s gaze on mine.

It’s like I can feel him looking at me before my eyes ever meet his.

For the rest of the afternoon, it almost feels like he never looks away from me.

Not for long, at least. He carries on conversations, but it’s clear that he’s only half present for them.

The realization should annoy me. I shouldn’t want him to focus on me. I should want him to focus on spending the afternoon with Davenport Media board members and impressing them.

But his cautious gaze on mine doesn’t annoy me at all. It seems thoughtful that he wants to keep checking in on me.

And that realization is terrifying. Because once the wall drops and I’m no longer annoyed by Ryker Davenport, I’m scared that I’ll be right back where I started when it comes to him. I’m terrified I’ll be attracted to him all over again.

And there are plenty of reasons why that can’t happen.