Page 56 of The Bad Girl

I grimace, trying not to picture the scarecrow of a man who was once my father’s poker buddy jacking off with a tie around his neck.

Eliza comes back with a sugary-sweet grin that I know means trouble, and sure enough, when she sets the drink down, it spills all over Nadine’s orange tunic and white trousers.

Nadine jumps up, startled, and I know this will either end with Nadine yelling or apologizing.

I rise, putting myself between the two women because I wouldn’t put it past Eliza to respond to Nadine’s quips with hair pulling.

“Stand down, both of you,” I command.

Both women stare at me, Nadine, with a look of shock, Eliza, with a wry grin I rather dislike.

Knowing how Nadine is being targeted, I pull her to me, kissing her lips lightly, to which she responds by melting against my body.

Holy hell, just give me another taste of this woman!

Greedily, I steal another kiss, and when I finally withdraw my lips, I say. “Now, Nadine, calm down.” I give her a wink. “I’ll replace the outfit. Heavens, I’ll even throw in that Manolo bangle you’ve been eyeing, I just don’t want a scene.”

Nadine brings up a hand to stifle her laughter. “If you insist, I won’t throw that tramp over the rail.”

Harlow lets out a hearty chuckle, “Got yerself a feisty one?” while Lady Elaine simply smirks.

I give Nadine another kiss, this one entirely for me and not for show, and say, “Darling, why don’t you slip into one of your bikinis.”

Nadine smartly decides not to say a word and disappears below deck to our cabin, Eliza’s jealous gaze never leaving her.

“I’d be careful if I were you, Eliza—she’ll wreck you,” I say matter-of-factly. Giving her something to think about before she decides to cook up another scheme.

Once I retake my seat, Lady Elaine leans in and whispers so the whole damn boat can hear her. “Johnson sure was hoping you’d bring that other friend of yours.”

“Prince Harry? Well, he’ll be joining me tonight at the gala.”

“You ain’t still thinkin’ of going to that gala tonight, are you?” Harlow interjects.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Oh, it’s just that the artist fellow is being detained somewhere. Damn, what’s his name?”

“Borlon Aleon?” I reply.

“Yeah, that fellow. He has some kind of scandal brewing.”

I pull up my phone and Google Borlon to find several headlines confirming Harlow’s suspicions. A moment later, a flurry of notifications hit my screen sent by PR, warning me not to go to or comment on the upcoming gala.

“Well, I guess my evening’s just opened up.”

The boat comes to a stop just out of visibility of the shore. A perfect place to have a drink and go for a dip.

Nadine walked out onto the deck, long, tanned legs peeking out from the white sarong I packed for her. The deep v-neck of the garment reveals a considerable amount of cleavage boosted by a golden bikini.

There’s no way that bikini is staying in place when she hits the water.

Seeing her with new eyes, I wonder how I could have overlooked such a delectable beauty for eighteen months. Nadine is just as attractive as any woman I’ve bedded, though her depth extends beyond her beauty, as she’s proven to be intelligent, hard-working, and as much as she would deny it, interesting.

But alas, it’s not me she pines for. It’s some bonehead named Tom who, quite frankly, doesn’t deserve her.

At least now, I won’t have to see her every day. With her transfer to public relations, I won’t be tormented day in and day out by glimpses of her flesh and details of her night with Tom.

“Nadine,” I finally say, “would you take a picture with me?”