Page 29

I was shocked when I awoke in the morning to find I’d slept a full seven hours.

It was past ten o’clock, and I felt remarkably good despite the copious amount of alcohol I’d consumed the previous evening.

Then I remembered my altercation with Tyson, and my hangxiety reared its ugly head with a roar. I suddenly felt ill.

I also vaguely remembered telling Cody why Tyson had invited me down here.

And then…the envelope I’d left on Tyson’s pillow.

I groaned, burying my head under my own pillow.

But I didn’t regret my decision. I’d be free to leave now, just as soon as Cody and I had the chat I’d promised him with Tyson.

I shakily popped three Advil and guzzled the entire bottle of water next to my bed. I checked my phone, my stomach doing a flip as I recognized the number for the police station in my messages. The voicemail was short:

“Audrey, it’s Deanna. I know you’re out of the country, but we’ve opened an investigation into Ian Kelley’s death, and need you to come on down to make a statement when you return. Give me a call and we’ll arrange a time.”

Her voice was professional but calm, and in the bright light of day, I was glad to find my pulse didn’t skyrocket the way it had last night when I got Rosa’s message.

I’d known this was coming. And yes, I’d been caught backfooted by Tyson’s accusations when I got down here, but now that I had some leverage, Tyson, Cody, and I would talk like civilized adults today, like we should have to begin with. Everything was going to be fine.

At least that’s what I’d keep telling myself.

I was desperate for coffee, but I also didn’t want to face anyone before I’d pulled myself together, so I showered and put on enough makeup to conceal the dark circles beneath my eyes before exiting my room.

The first person I saw was Laurent. He was wearing his uniform of khaki trousers and a white button-down, cleaning up the remains of breakfast with the chef and another server.

He flashed a professional smile as I entered the kitchen, and immediately I was in that alleyway again, my hands tangled in his hair, his body pressed to mine.

“Good morning, Audrey,” he said breezily.

“Good morning,” I replied, flushed.

“Would you like some coffee?”

“Definitely,” I answered, trying and failing to match his casual attitude. “Merci.”

As he prepared my coffee, I turned to survey the veranda.

Cody was on his laptop on the couch facing the view while Allison swam laps in the pool, moving so gracefully through the water that it was hard not to stare.

Jennifer was parked on a lounger in a sun hat with the same book she’d been reading yesterday, next to Gisèle and Samira, who both appeared to be asleep on their stomachs, their long limbs splayed at odd angles. Tyson was nowhere to be seen.

Laurent appeared at my side, coffee in hand. “Thank you,” I said, taking it from him.

He nodded, his gaze slipping away from mine too quickly. He certainly was doing a good job of treating me like any other guest this morning. So good, I wondered if he thought last night was a mistake.

Which it was, of course. Though just the thought of his lips on mine sent an echo of pleasure shimmering through my torso.

I beelined for a chair on the far side of the couch, as far away from him as I could get and remain in the shade. “Has Tyson made an appearance?” I asked, hiding my apprehension beneath a placid veneer as I pulled my feet up under me.

“He’s not home yet,” Samira answered without moving.

Not home. That meant he hadn’t seen the arrest report. There was still time to retrieve it if I wanted to. But I didn’t. Though the decision to leave it there had been fueled by champagne and rage, I felt confident it was the right decision.

“Do you know where he is?” Cody asked.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Samira muttered, pulling a hat over her face.

“Tyson is already on the yacht,” Laurent said, coming to stand behind the couch.

We all looked over at him in surprise.

“He decided to sleep there last night,” Laurent continued, his face neutral. “He’s requested for you all to arrive at noon.”

Allison emerged from the pool, wrapping her powerful body in a towel. “What is this?” she asked.

“Tyson wants us to go to the boat,” Cody said.

“He said to let the two of you know he has a gift for you,” Laurent said to Allison and Cody.

“Fun,” Cody grumbled.

“The car will be ready at eleven-thirty to take you down to the airfield, where the helicopter is waiting,” Laurent said.

Gisèle and Samira bent their heads together, whispering, as I checked my watch.

It was nearly eleven. I turned to catch Cody’s eye and he nodded, confirming our plans for a tête-à-tête with his tyrant of a brother.

His mood seemed even darker today than it was in the cab last night, and I wondered if it was my fault for telling him about the blackmailer. But he deserved to know.

Jennifer looked at Cody as she rose from her lounger, tucking her book under her arm. “If you’re in, I’m in.”

Samira stretched, muttering something to Gisèle too low for me to make out. “We will come,” she said. “Franco will be leading the dive?”

“Unfortunately, he has a cold,” Laurent said. “Today we have Rémy. He comes highly recommended.”

“So, you don’t know him,” Jennifer translated.

“I have not met him personally, but Franco dives with him often and recommended him. Also, I am a rescue diver and will be there to make sure you are all safe.”

“Fine, then,” Allison said, striding for the stairs up to her room.

“We need dresses for tonight?” Samira asked.

“Yes,” Laurent said. “Plan to spend the night on the boat.”

—

The helicopter was an unnecessary extravagance.

The seven of us could easily have driven to the cove off which the yacht was anchored and taken the dinghy out, but I wasn’t complaining.

I’d never been in a luxury helicopter before—actually, I’d never been in a helicopter before, period.

This one was white with a roomy tan leather interior featuring wood paneling and seating for eight, though Laurent sat up front with the pilot, who seemed to be a friend of his.

As we rose into the air, I looked out the window to see the mottled sea beneath us, an electric shade of teal.

The island appeared to be alive from this angle, a dragon-like sea creature slithering toward the horizon, the jagged peaks of the mountains the spines of its back, the sandy beaches its soft belly, the rocky cliffs its claws.

I snapped a pic and sent it to Rosa, who immediately replied with a picture of Benji’s baseball game. Her message:

Same same.

I laughed as I replied:

Billionaire life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Please kiss the boys for me (if they’ll let you!) xx

Beachgoers frolicked on the shore below us as we soared along the coastline, and countless white boats dotted the water.

Within five minutes, a large white yacht came into view, anchored perhaps a mile offshore, near a small, rocky island.

A handful of other boats bobbed on the waves nearby, but none of them were near the size of the only one with a helipad on the back.

The captain’s voice crackled in our headphones. “You can see our ship, Sea Ray, down below. We’ll be landing shortly.”

I’d never been on a yacht before, either, and while I knew close to nothing about boats, I would definitely put Sea Ray in the megayacht category.

It was a gleaming colossus of the seas, proof of Tyson’s stupendous success for all the world to see.

I wondered what would happen to it if Tyson sank the company. Was there a CarMax for yachts?

Jennifer grabbed my hand as our helicopter hovered above the ship and our captain slowly lowered us onto its helipad, the motion of the blades whipping the water beneath us into whitecaps.

The pilot helped each of us down, the wind from the slowing blades buffeting our skin.

I was last to exit, and I gazed at the view of the mountainous island as I trekked across the helipad, paying no attention to my feet until I felt something squish beneath my sandal.

The stench hit me as I lifted my foot, and I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

Dog shit. Just my luck. But also: what the hell?

“Oh no,” a willowy crew girl in a navy polo and khaki shorts cried as she rushed over. “I am so sorry.”

“Well, that was unexpected,” I said, wincing.

I could almost laugh, thinking about the kick Rosa was going to get out of my stepping in dog shit on a megayacht when I told her, but at the moment, the smell was too foul to do anything other than gag.

“We had a dog here this morning. Two, actually. What are they called with the short nose?” She placed her hand on her nose.

“Bulldogs?” I guessed, clamping my fingers over my own nose to stifle the smell.

She shook her head. “Black and brown…”

“Pugs?”

Her auburn ponytail fell over her shoulder as she lifted my foot, removing my soiled shoe. “Yes! Pugs. They are very cute, but oh no. I do not know how we miss this.”

“Oh gross, it’s on my foot,” I said, pulling a face as I noticed the smear of dog shit on the side of my foot.

“I am so sorry,” she sympathized, indicating the room at the far end of the tarmac. “Right there, you can wash in the sink.” She held the compromised sandal as far away from us as she could. “I will take both and clean them, okay? My name is Justine.”

“Thank you, Justine,” I said, stepping out of my other shoe. “It’s no problem.”

She lingered behind me, cleaning up the mess as I walked barefoot through the open glass doors into a chic cocktail bar that faced a rooftop deck featuring a large spa.

Another pretty, smiling young woman in a navy polo and khaki shorts greeted me.

“Welcome aboard Sea Ray, ” she said, her English lightly accented, like Justine’s.

She proffered a tray of cold hand towels. “For your hands.”

“Um, I also need one for my foot,” I said, smiling ruefully as I wiped my hands and the back of my neck with the towel. “I stepped in dog poop.”

“I’m so sorry about that,” she said, soaping up a rag.

“Who had dogs on board?” I asked. Tyson had never been a dog guy. Or a cat guy, for that matter. Not much of an animal guy at all. Which, again, should have been a red flag back when we’d dated. So many red flags I’d missed.

But the crew girl just shrugged silently as she applied the rag to my foot, then used one of the cold hand towels to wipe it down. Odd. I made a mental note to ask Tyson later.

“This way, please,” she said once my foot was clean. She indicated the stairwell on one side of the room. “The primary suite is one deck down on level three, the game deck on level two, and on the main deck, level one, you will meet Evan, who will show you to your room belowdecks.”

I nodded, trying to memorize what she’d said as I followed the stairwell down a level to what appeared to be a lavish gray and cream lounge, the front of which was completely open to the sea.

I paused, gazing at the view. This place was incredible.

Succession and Below Deck had given me glimpses of the interiors of yachts, but actually being on one was surreal.

I felt a bit like Dorothy waking up in Oz.

Before I could continue down the stairwell, the door of the primary bedroom flew open and Cody burst out, fury radiating off him.

Damn, he’d only beaten me downstairs by perhaps ten minutes, and he and Tyson had already gotten into it.

I inhaled sharply, stepping to the side to let him pass, but he didn’t so much as give me a backward glance.

So much for talking like adults.