Chapter 10
KRISTA
The following morning, I found Dash at the hotel pool.
This was after he didn’t answer his phone—again.
I only knew he was there because one of the production staff told me he was holding court.
I was not surprised. It was exactly where I expected him to be.
Not in his room packing. Not reviewing the Corfu logistics like we’d discussed.
No, he was lounging on a chair surrounded by what looked like half the modeling agency.
And of course he was naked. Okay, not naked, but he was wearing a pair of swim trunks and nothing else.
That ridiculous chest that belonged on a magazine cover, not on someone who was supposed to be a logistics coordinator, was on full display.
And it was so annoying that I kept noticing. He had on his sunglasses, smiling and holding a drink. He was the image of relaxation.
I wanted to dump that drink on his head. How dare he? He knew damn well we were supposed to be out of here. The lack of care and concern the man had was beyond infuriating. I had never met anyone so irresponsible. How in the hell had he made it this far in life?
I stood at the edge of the pool area and watched him laugh at something one of the models said.
She was draped across the chair next to him, her hand on his arm.
Two more were in the pool, calling up to him.
A guy I recognized from the production crew was there too, along with several people I didn’t recognize at all.
Dash Blackwell, the center of attention. His natural habitat.
My jaw clenched. We were supposed to leave for Corfu an hour ago. The plane was waiting. The car was waiting. The entire Corfu crew was waiting. And here he was, kicking back at the pool like he had all the time in the world.
I walked over, my boots feeling very wrong against the blue tile. Several heads turned to look at me. I ignored them all, my eyes locked on Dash.
“Mr. Blackwell,” I said, my voice carrying across the pool deck.
He looked up. A slow smile spread across his face. He pulled down his sunglasses to the tip of his nose. “Captain Krista. Come to join the party?”
“Your suite has been packed,” I said, not bothering to return his smile. “The plane is on the tarmac. The car is waiting. We’re leaving. Now.”
The model next to him pouted. “But we just got here.”
“You can stay,” I said to her, then looked back at Dash. “He can’t.”
Dash took a long sip of his drink, maintaining eye contact with me the entire time. It was a power play. A test. He was seeing if I’d back down, if I’d defer to him in front of his audience.
Not a chance.
“The Corfu team is waiting,” I said. “You’re holding up an entire production schedule. Get up. Let’s go.”
“You’re very bossy,” he said, but there was amusement in his voice.
“I’m very employed. And you’re very late.”
He laughed, and damn it, even his laugh was attractive.
He stood up, stretching in a way that made his abs flex.
It was completely unnecessary and absolutely intentional.
He knew exactly what he was doing. The trunks he was wearing had the Blackwell name in gold around the waist. He was wearing one of the swimsuits from the new line.
I recognized it from the information I had reviewed last night.
Of course he was wearing a pair of luxury shorts to lounge by the pool. He was the best advertisement. Cancel the expensive photoshoots and just take a picture of his dumbass. Problem solved.
“Ladies, gentleman,” he said to his assembled admirers. “Duty calls.”
He grabbed his shirt from the back of the chair and put it on but didn’t bother buttoning it. He walked toward me, still dripping pool water, proving he hadn’t just been lounging.
“Lead the way, Captain,” he said with that charming smile.
I turned and started walking, very aware of him behind me. Very aware of the wet footprints he was leaving. Very aware that everyone we passed was staring at him and his ridiculous body and that stupid charming smile he was giving everyone.
This was exactly the kind of spectacle I should have prevented.
I was supposed to be managing him, keeping him on schedule, and preventing him from turning every moment into a circus.
And here we were, walking through the lobby of a five-star hotel with him looking like a Greek god straight from Mt. Olympus.
“You’re enjoying this,” he said from behind me.
“Enjoying what?”
“Ordering me around. Publicly.”
I glanced back at him. “Maybe a little. But it’s not like you give me much choice.”
“At least you’re honest.”
We reached the lobby and I could feel eyes on us. On him. A woman actually walked into a pillar because she was too busy staring at Dash to watch where she was going. He noticed and gave her a little wave. She blushed and scurried away.
“You’re a menace,” I muttered.
“I’m friendly.”
“You’re a distraction.”
“Is that what I am?” He was suddenly right behind me. His voice had dropped lower, more intimate. “Am I distracting you, Krista?”
I stopped walking and turned to face him. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t try to flirt or charm me. It doesn’t work. Not on me.”
“You sure about that?”
I was not sure about that. Standing this close to him, with water still dripping down his chest and those eyes looking at me, was extremely distracting.
But I’d rather die than admit it.
“The car,” I said, pointing toward the entrance.
He grinned like he knew exactly what I was thinking. “After you.”
I walked outside, grateful for the blast of heat that hit my face. Maybe it would explain why my cheeks felt so warm.
The driver jumped out to open the door, his eyes widening slightly when he saw Dash’s state of undress.
“Good morning,” Dash said cheerfully, sliding into the car like he was perfectly dressed for travel.
I got in after him, putting as much distance between us as the backseat would allow. Which wasn’t much.
“You could have at least changed,” I said as the car pulled away from the hotel.
“You said we were leaving now. I left now.”
“You knew we were leaving this morning.”
“I knew you’d come find me.”
I was going to murder the man.
The car drove straight onto the tarmac. I was out before the tires had come to a full stop. I could not be in such a confined space with him. He was just too much everything. I grabbed my bag. The staff tried to take it from me, but I insisted.
I stomped up the stairs and sat down. I could hear Dash talking with the flight attendant. Not talking—flirting. The man needed to wear a warning sign. Do not flirt with the Blackwell.
As I had instructed, a freshly pressed suit was hanging on the door into the restroom. He finally stepped into the cabin, still looking way too smug for my comfort.
“Get dressed,” I ordered.
“Are you sure you want me to?” he teased.
I ignored him.
Ten minutes later, we were still sitting on the tarmac because we were waiting for him. He finally emerged in the perfectly tailored suit that oozed money. His hair was still damp, pushed back from his face, and he’d somehow managed to look completely put together in the span of ten minutes.
It was infuriating how easily he moved through the world.
He sat down and we were finally able to take off.
I got my laptop open and the itinerary pulled up on the screen.
I’d spent hours finalizing it last night, accounting for every possible delay.
It was color-coded, cross-referenced, and backed up in three different places.
I was not risking a repeat of yesterday.
“Here,” I said, turning the screen toward him. “This is the schedule for the next two weeks.”
He glanced at it, then looked away. “Looks fine.”
“Fine?” I pulled the laptop back. “Did you actually look at it?”
“I saw it.”
“Seeing and reading are two different things.”
He sighed and leaned back in his seat. “What do you want me to say? You’ve clearly got it all figured out.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point? Because from where I’m sitting, you’ve taken over my job. You found the missing pieces yesterday and didn’t even tell me. You’re creating schedules. You’re managing vendors. What exactly am I supposed to be doing?”
“Your job,” I said. “I’m supposed to be supporting you, not replacing you.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
A flash of heat rolled through me, and this time, it had nothing to do with desire. “Maybe if you’d actually done your job in the first place, I wouldn’t have to step in.”
“I have been doing my job. For years. Successfully.”
“Successfully?” I leaned forward. “The only reason yesterday wasn’t a complete disaster was because I cleaned up your mess.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“Your family asked me to do that. That’s why I’m here. They obviously knew something like that would happen.”
“Right. My family.” He stood up, the cabin suddenly feeling much smaller. “My family who doesn’t trust me. My family who thinks I need a babysitter.”
“You do.”
I watched something flash across his face—hurt, maybe, or anger. Probably both.
“You know what your problem is?” He leaned over me, forcing me to look up at him. “You think you have it all figured out. You show up with your cargo pants and your military discipline and your color-coded spreadsheets, and you think that makes you better than me.”
I stood up to meet him. I was not going to let him intimidate me. “I don’t think I’m better than you. I think I’m more prepared than you.”
“Same thing.”
“It’s really not.”
We were standing close now. He’d put on cologne and brushed his teeth. The combination of mint and cedar was intoxicating.
“You want to know what I think?” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “I think your own family must be a mess, so you just moved into mine.”
Surprisingly astute and ridiculously painful. I glared back at him. “My family is just fine.”
“You might as well be one of the Blackwell brothers.”
One of the brothers.
I’d spent years becoming harder, more efficient, more masculine. I’d traded dresses for cargo pants, skipped makeup, buried every soft thing about myself so deep I’d almost convinced myself it didn’t exist. I wanted to be the son my father never had. It cost me but I told myself it was okay.
But hearing it from him made me realize how much I’d lost. How much of my mother’s daughter had withered away.
“You’re an asshole,” I retorted.
It wasn’t the witty comeback I would have preferred, but he’d thrown me. He had pressed on the wound I kept hidden under Army shirts and cargo pants. He found it anyway.
“You’ve turned this entire operation into a military exercise. That’s not support, Krista. That’s a hostile takeover.”
“I’m doing my job.”
“You’re doing my job.”
We were practically nose to nose now, both breathing hard. I could feel my pulse pounding in my throat. His chest was rising and falling beneath that perfectly tailored shirt.
“You want to know why your family doesn’t trust you?
” I said, my voice shaking with anger. “Because you act like nothing matters. This is all a game to you. You’re so busy being charming and carefree that you forget other people are depending on you.
Every single person on that shoot needs their paycheck.
And if you can’t get your shit together, they don’t get paid! ”
“And you want to know why you’ll never understand me?” he fired back. “Because you don’t know how to be human. You’re trying to be a machine. When was the last time you let yourself have fun?”
I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes and hated myself for it. Hated him for seeing it.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I said quietly.
“I don’t need another brother, Krista. I have three of those already. I used to anyway. I suppose that’s why they sent you. They’re too busy with their own lives to work with me on this shit. So, see, you are a Blackwell brother.”
I was about to try and stuff his very large body through one of the very small windows when the flight attendant appeared.
“I have some refreshments,” she said with a bright smile.
“I think a little food and a cold drink is just what you need. I really don’t want to try and break up a fight ten thousand feet in the air. ”
I glared at Dash and sat down. I deserved hazard pay for this job.