3. CHRIS
3
CHRIS
I t was a month later and I couldn’t believe how fast time had gone by.
The sun hung high over Monaco, casting a bright shimmer over the harbor as I made my way through the crowds gathered along the marina. I wore a white cotton shirt and khaki pants to try to keep the heat at bay but after living a life in Rhode Island, this kind of weather wasn’t something I was used to.
The day before the yacht show always had a frenetic energy about it—everyone busied themselves with last-minute preparations, and a feeling of rushed efficiency hung in the air.
Today was all about showing off my latest design. The Blackwood Legacy had arrived last night and it was a thing of fucking perfection. It proved I still had the edge in this industry.
And then some.
I stood at the edge of the dock, taking in the sleek lines of the yacht that represented everything I’d worked for. It wasn’t just a yacht; it was a revolution. With its innovative hull design that cut through the water like a blade and a series of new eco- friendly technologies, The Blackwood Legacy was more than a luxury vessel—it was a statement.
Chris Blackwood dominated.
The retractable glass roof, solar sails, and self-sustaining water systems were things the competition hadn’t even dared to dream about yet.
Charles Lane, one of the industry’s top brokers, walked to me with a confident stride. He was the kind of guy who could make or break deals with a few words, and I knew getting him on board could mean everything for this show.
“Chris,” he called out, his voice carrying easily over the hum of activity. “Heard you’ve got something that’s going to make the rest of us feel inadequate.” He flashed a smile of bright white teeth that stood out against his tan skin. Charles looked like he spent most of his time lying on a beach somewhere exotic.
I grinned, extending a hand. “That’s the idea. Ready to have your mind blown?”
“Always,” he replied with a laugh, his eyes sweeping over the yacht. “So, what makes this one special?”
“Aside from the fact that it’s a Blackwood yacht?” I asked with an arrogant smile.
“You better be able to put your money where your mouth is,” Charles teased, but there was a warning underneath it. The yacht industry was all smiles and charm, but that was just a mask. Underneath, it was a cutthroat business, a dog-eat-dog world to stay on top and earn the most.
I led him onto the deck, feeling a surge of pride as we stepped aboard. “Start with the hull,” I said, pointing to the sleek lines that tapered into a sharp, efficient point. “It’s designed to reduce drag and improve fuel efficiency. We’re talking twenty percent better fuel economy than the next best competitor.”
Charles nodded, impressed. “Good start. The interior?”
I gestured for him to follow me inside, the doors sliding open with a soft hiss to reveal a spacious, open-plan layout flooded with natural light. “Retractable glass roof,” I said, pointing upward. “Full panoramic views when open and the option for complete privacy when closed. The living spaces are modular—everything can be adjusted depending on the client’s needs. It’s about flexibility, customization. No one’s done it like this before.”
Charles’s eyes widened as he took it all in. “You’re not kidding. This could set a new standard.”
“That’s the idea,” I agreed, my gaze flickering to the sleek lines and polished surfaces that reflected years of effort and research, countless times of scratching a project and starting over. “Plus, we’ve got state-of-the-art sustainability features—”
“—the buzzword of the decade—”
“—solar sails, water recycling systems,” I continued, unfazed. “This yacht can go months without needing to dock for resupply.”
“Jesus, Chris,” Charles muttered, shaking his head in admiration. “You weren’t kidding about sustainability.
“And it doesn’t hurt the environment, either. Not just a buzzword.” I winked at him. “That’s what we’re about—luxury married to sustainability so that this yacht is the powerful combination of technology and nature.”
Charles whistled through his teeth. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time. The market’s going to go nuts.”
I smiled, feeling a swell of satisfaction. “That’s the plan. Just need to make sure the right people see it.”
Charles nodded, rubbing his hands together. “Well, I think you’re in good shape. How about a drink later to talk strategy?”
“Sounds good,” I replied. “I’ll text you when I’m free.”
As Charles moved on through the yacht, my thoughts drifted, unbidden, back to Bella. Her face from that night flashed in my mind—her eyes dark and questioning, her lips parted as if on the verge of saying something she never got around to. I could almost feel her against me, her skin warm and soft, and I cursed under my breath.
I didn’t need this right now.
Focus, Chris.
She was a mistake, a momentary lapse. I couldn’t let her cloud my head like this.
Finally, Charles returned and grinned from ear to ear.
“I’ll see you later. This is an Ace up your sleeve if I’ve ever seen one.”
I shook hands with Charles and watched him disembark before I pulled out my phone to check in with Alex. He’d gone back home for a while to be with his family. Since Charlotte and Tommy had come into his life, Alex traveled back and forth more often to be home with them when he could, and I was left alone in Monaco more often to handle business. Not that I was out of my depth, but Alex and I had usually been a deadly duo and now I was doing it alone.
Times changed.
He picked up after a couple of rings. “Hey, how’d the meeting go?”
“Better than expected,” I said, turning toward a window and watching the harbor. “Lane’s impressed. Think we might have a big deal on our hands.”
“I knew you’d nail it,” Alex replied. “You always do.”
I laughed softly. “Yeah, well, I guess we’ll see. How’s everything back home?”
“Quiet,” he admitted, “but good. I’ll be back soon. Just needed to recharge a bit.”
“No rush. Everything’s under control here. Just don’t be gone too long, or I might get bored.”
He chuckled. “Right. As if you’d ever get bored in Monaco. Just don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.”
“No promises,” I quipped, and he laughed again.
“Take care, man. See you soon.”
I pocketed my phone. It buzzed with a message a moment later, and I pulled it out again.
“Staff have arrived to board The Blackwood Legacy . Ready when you are.”
I climbed the stairs back up to the main deck. The yacht swayed, and I loved the feeling of being back on the water. The familiar sway of the boat grounded me instantly. The crew moved around, busy with their tasks, and everything seemed to be going smoothly. I scanned the area, looking for the head of staff to give me an update.
My eye caught a flash of dark hair, and I frowned.
Bella ?
She was at the far end of the deck, a clipboard in hand, her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. She wore the standard-issue white uniform, but she made it look like a designer gown, her posture straight, exuding authority. For a moment, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. I blinked, convinced I was seeing things.
“What the fuck?” The words slipped out before I could stop them, louder than I intended.
Bella’s head snapped up, and her eyes locked onto mine. For a second, a flash of surprise crossed her face, but she masked it again quickly, replaced by that same cool, unreadable expression she’d perfected over the years.
I fucking hated that expression right now.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded, marching across the deck toward her.
“Chris,” she said, her voice even, but I could see the tension in her shoulders. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Are you here to talk?”
I could feel my heart pounding, my mind scrambling to make sense of what was happening.
“No,” she said. “I’m just here to do my job. What are you doing here?”
“This is my yacht!”
“Yes, The Blackwood Legacy ,” she said. “I figured that out once I stepped on board. Unexpected for both of us, apparently.”
I shook my head, confused, trying to figure out exactly what she was saying.
“You’re my head of staff?”
“I’m not your anything. But, yes,” she replied, almost too calm. “It seems to be so.”
My chest tightened, anger flaring up from somewhere deep inside me.
“How the fuck did this happen?”
“Don’t sound so excited.” She squared her shoulders, meeting my gaze with a defiant tilt of her chin. “Carla assigned me. I had no idea it was your yacht.”
“I’ll just have to have a word with her,” I said hotly.
Carla, a woman who had always helped me with brilliant staff, had somehow managed to turn my plans upside down and ruin everything.
“I doubt she would have known we’re… acquainted.”
“Did you bother to check?” I snapped.
Bella raised an eyebrow. “Why would I? It’s just a job, Chris. I don’t get to choose where I work.”
Her answer was logical, but it didn’t do a damn thing to settle the storm raging inside me. Seeing her here, now, on my yacht—it was too close. I felt exposed, vulnerable, and I hated it.
I didn’t like being caught off guard, feeling off-balance.
“This isn’t going to work,” I said, my voice hard.
I was determined to talk to Carla and commission a different head of staff. There was no fucking way I was doing the next four days with Bella so close that I couldn’t think straight. Damn it, after leaving her so early when I’d last seen her, the idea had been to never see her again.
Her eyes flashed, and she crossed her arms, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. “Why not? Afraid you can’t handle it?”
I bristled at her tone, pissed that she challenged me, thought I was weak. “It’s not a good idea,” I said through gritted teeth.
She leaned in, her voice low but cutting. “I’m here to do a job, and I plan on doing it well. If you get me fired for no good reason, I can take steps against you.”
I snorted. “What steps? I’m Chris Fucking Blackwood, Bell. I get what I want, whenever I want it, no matter what it is.”
“Yeah, you do,” she said. “And when you’re done, you discard it just as easily.”
I blinked at her. “This is not about you and me. It’s not personal.”
“Of course it’s personal,” she snapped. “But you go ahead and kick me off if that’s what you want to do. Prove that you can’t deal with this shit and we’ll know where we stand. Or put on your big boy pants and get over yourself. I’m here to do a job and I know you have work to focus on, too.”
We stood there, locked in a silent battle of wills, the air between us charged with tension. I could feel my fists clenching at my sides, the anger rising. She was right, of course. And I hated it. I hated having her here. I hated wanting her to stay. I hated that she was challenging me, pushing me, making it seem like I was the one who couldn’t face shit when I was fine.
I was a pro at facing shit.
“Fine,” I bit out finally, my voice tight. “I don’t care what you do, and if this job is so important to you… But stay out of my way.”
She laughed, a short, humorless sound. “Trust me, Chris. I have no desire to be anywhere near you.”
Her words stung.
“Oh, and Mr. Blackwood?” she added, suddenly the epitome of professional.
“What?” I snapped.
“Don’t call me Bell again.”
She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving me standing there, words hanging in the air.
Fuck!
This was going to be a disaster. I could feel it in my bones. But there was no going back now. There was no fucking way I would kick her off the boat and let her win this argument. If she was so sure I couldn’t handle her being around, then I would handle the shit out of it. I would handle it so well she would have to eat her words.
She would have no idea how much having her this close derailed me.