Chapter 15
DASH
Krista stormed off toward the photography area, her ponytail swinging with each angry step.
She was pissed? Seriously? She was the one that came at me.
Always. The woman had a fucking problem.
Me. I was her problem. I hadn’t done shit to her.
She hated me and wanted to do all she could to fuck with me.
I fixed it. Everyone was paid. Everyone was happy. The shoot was happening. But somehow, in Krista Hedley’s world, that wasn’t good enough because I hadn’t done it her way.
The humiliation burned through my chest like acid. She’d dressed me down in front of the production crew. Okay, not in front of them exactly—most had already left the tent—but close enough. And the way she’d looked at me, like I was some spoiled child, made me want to punch something.
“Mr. Blackwell?”
I looked up to find the production coordinator hovering nearby, clutching her tablet.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For handling that. I was worried we’d lose half the crew.”
“No problem.”
“And the bonus was really generous. Good for the Blackwell brand.”
“No problem.”
At least someone appreciated what I’d done.
I spent the rest of the day doing my actual job.
I coordinated with the photographers, checked in with the models, made sure the lighting crew had everything they needed.
I reviewed the shot list with the creative director and confirmed the locations for tomorrow’s shoot.
I was professional. I was competent. I was everything Krista claimed I wasn’t.
And she was nowhere to be seen. I spotted her occasionally, standing at the edges of things with her tablet, making notes.
Watching me. Probably documenting every mistake for her report to Adrian.
By the time we wrapped at five, I was exhausted and angry and so fucking done with this entire situation.
The drive back to the hotel was silent. Krista sat on her side of the car.
I sat on mine. Neither of us spoke. The tension was thick enough to choke on.
When we pulled up to the hotel, I got out without waiting for her.
I heard her footsteps behind me as I walked through the lobby, but I didn’t turn around. I went straight to the front desk.
“I need another room,” I told the concierge. “I don’t care what it costs. Make it happen.”
He looked up from his computer. “Let me check.” His fingers flew across the keyboard. “Ah, yes. We just had a checkout. Ocean view, king bed. Would that work?”
“Perfect.”
I handed over my credit card. When he handed me the key card, I felt some of the tension ease from my shoulders. At least I wouldn’t have to share a bed with her tonight. Wouldn’t have to lie there in the dark feeling her judgment.
I took the elevator up and found Krista in the suite. She was on the balcony.
“I got you your own room,” I said.
She turned slowly. “What?”
“Your own room. Down the hall. I figured you’d prefer that.”
Something flickered across her face. Surprise? Disappointment? I couldn’t tell.
“Oh,” she said. “Thank you.”
“I’ll help you with your bags.”
She didn’t argue. Just walked into the bedroom and started gathering her things. I grabbed her suitcase and carried it down the hall to her new room. I unlocked the door and held it open for her. The room was smaller than the suite but just as nice.
“This is great,” Krista said, setting her bag down. “Really. Thank you.”
“No problem.”
We stood there awkwardly for a moment.
“Have a good evening,” I finally said, turning toward the door.
“Dash, wait.”
Her hand caught my wrist. Not hard. Just enough to stop me. I looked down at her fingers wrapped around my arm, then up at her face.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “For how harsh I was this morning.”
I waited.
“I’m used to things being done a certain way,” she continued. “And sometimes I slip back into old habits from my military days. The protocols are important to me. It’s how I learned to operate, but that doesn’t mean it’s the only way.”
My curiosity flared despite my lingering anger. “What exactly were these military days of yours? You’ve never actually told me.”
She released my wrist and stepped back. “It’s not that interesting.”
“I think it is. Come on. You know all about me. My family, my reputation, my failures. I don’t know anything about you, except that you’re scary efficient and you love pockets.”
“They’re practical,” she said.
“How about we go for a walk?” I suggested. “Get out of this hotel. Find somewhere to grab a bite to eat. You can tell me why you have a spine made of steel.”
She nodded. “I’d like that.”
Corfu at twilight was something else. The streets were narrow and cobbled, lined by terracotta buildings with window boxes filled with bright flowers. The air smelled like olive oil and bread. Or maybe I was just hungry.
“So tell me more about this military career of yours,” I said. “What made you want to join?”
“It’s a family tradition,” she said. “My whole family has military roots. I went to West Point.”
“No shit? Isn’t that hard to get into?”
Krista nodded. “It is. I assume it will come as no surprise I worked really hard and got good grades.”
“Naturally,” I said. “And after that?”
“I did five years of active duty as platoon leader in a logistics unit.”
I looked at her sideways. “A platoon leader.”
“That’s what I said.”
I let that land for a second. I was trying to picture it and doing a pretty decent job, actually. Krista Hedley in fatigues, moving people and equipment across terrain, making decisions under pressure with zero margin for error. Yeah. That tracked.
“And then?” I asked. “You didn’t want to make a lifelong career out of it?”
She was quiet for a beat. “My dad had a health scare. Open heart surgery.” She said it with no emotion but I could tell it was one of those things just like the topic of my father’s death was one of those things.
“I was in the middle of transitioning back to civilian life anyway, so I accelerated it. Helped him sell his place and get set up in Florida. Better climate. Better care. He’s stubborn as hell about accepting help, so it took some maneuvering. ”
“Stubborn?” I asked. “Sounds familiar.”
She cut me a look. “Don’t.”
I held up a hand. “I’m just saying. I recognize it.”
The corner of her mouth twitched but she didn’t give me anything more than that. “I visit him every other month, sometimes more if I can swing it.”
“Where did my brother find you?” I asked.
“I own a logistics consulting firm in New York. I’m rarely actually home because I’m usually on a job. I like being on the move. I don’t do well just sitting in the same place.”
I didn’t say anything for a moment. We turned down a wider street and the city opened up ahead of us.
“Wow,” I said.
“What?” she asked.
“You’re kind of a badass, Hedley.”
She made a sound that was almost a laugh. “Kind of?”
“Okay. Fully. Completely. An objectively terrifying badass. I might have to think twice about pushing your buttons.”
“That’d be nice.”
“I wouldn’t have lasted a day at West Point,” I said. “Not even orientation. They would have sent me home by lunch.”
She laughed. “You think?”
“I know. They would have taken one look at me and West pointed me in the opposite direction.”
“They would have made you run until you figured out yourself you didn’t belong there.”
“See?” I grinned. “Gone by lunch.”
We’d reached the edge of Spianada Square. It opened up in front of us. People were everywhere. A vendor nearby was turning something on a small grill that smelled incredible. We both took a second just to soak it all in.
We got gyros from a cart near the far edge of the square. I paid before Krista could reach for her wallet, which earned me a look, but she let it go. I didn’t know if that was progress but I would take it.
We found a spot near the fountain at the center of the square, sat down on the stone edge, and dug into our food. It tasted as good as it had smelled when we walked by.
“It’s funny,” I said, my mouth a little fuller than was technically polite. “Back home, I like high-end restaurants, but when I’m traveling, nothing hits quite as good as street food.”
She nodded as she tore off a mouthful and chewed. I liked that she didn’t pinch off tiny bites and nibble like a dainty mouse. She was savoring every bite just like I was, once again proving she was who she was and didn’t give a shit about trying to hide anything.
Krista had finished half of her gyro before she pointed across the fountain with her chin. “See those two?”
I followed her eyeline to a couple on a bench. The man was talking. He’d clearly been talking for a while. The woman beside him had the serene, slightly vacant expression of someone whose mind had left the conversation long ago.
“She’s thinking about holding his head underwater,” Krista said.
I nearly choked. “In the fountain?”
“Right there. She’s mapped it out. She knows exactly how long it would take.”
“That’s dark.”
“That’s marriage.”
I laughed. She looked pleased with herself and we both kept going.
The older man feeding pigeons near the colonnade was definitely a retired widowed professor who talked to the birds because his colleagues had stopped listening.
The teenage girl checking her phone every thirty seconds was waiting for a text from a boy who was absolutely going to disappoint her.
The little kid dragging his father toward the ice cream cart was a future CEO.
I went along with all of it, adding my own details. She had a sharp, dry wit that she kept mostly hidden behind the tactical exterior. Every time I got a glimpse of it, I felt like I’d been handed something special.
I didn’t know how much time passed. Darkness fell. The younger families drifted away, leaving couples and tourists.
“What story do you think they’d make up about us?” I asked.
Krista turned to look at me. She looked thoughtful for a few seconds.
“They could imagine anything they want,” she said softly.
I was imagining plenty. Like what it would feel like to close the space between us.
What would she do if I reached up and touched her cheek?
Would she lean in or pull back? My eyes drifted lower before looking back at her.
She was looking at my mouth. I was almost certain she was looking at my mouth.
A man materialized out of nowhere at the edge of my vision, moving slowly through the square with a bucket of white roses, offering them to passing couples. I raised my hand before I could think about it.
He came over. I bought one and immediately handed it to her.
She took it like I had just handed her a million dollars. She looked younger. Uncertain. Almost shy. She looked down at the rose and then back up at me.
“Why?” she asked.
“You’re beautiful,” I said. I hadn’t planned to say it. It just came out.
Her eyes went wide. She brought the rose up and inhaled, her eyes closing. When she opened them again, there was a new look on her face. She seemed confident and at ease. The armor was gone. She didn’t look vulnerable, but like she was comfortable in her own skin.
Fuck it. If she slapped me, it would be worth it. I’d take my lumps. But I didn’t want to go to bed without at least trying.
I closed the distance between us, slid my hand to the back of her head, and gently pulled her to meet my lips.
Her lips were soft and careful at first, and then they weren’t. The fountain splashed quietly behind us. Somewhere nearby a woman laughed. My focus was on the plump lips under mine and the intoxicating woman they belonged to.