9. CHRIS
9
CHRIS
T he sun was blazing hot by noon, and the Mediterranean looked like a postcard as Alex and I sat across from the potential buyer. Mr. Fredriksson looked every bit the part—perfectly tailored suit, Rolex peeking out from under his cuff, and a smile that was all politeness but no warmth.
Almost everyone looked like that here. All money, no spark.
We were at the terrace of La Terrasse de L’étoile, an upscale restaurant that hung precariously over the cliffside, giving us a stunning view of the ocean below. Everything screamed money—from the servers in their perfectly pressed uniforms to the white tablecloths fluttering slightly in the breeze. We’d pulled out all the stops to impress Fredriksson but with his show-nothing poker face I wasn’t sure if it was working.
I wished I could appreciate our surroundings. It really was incredible, but my mind was on something else.
The waiter had just poured a round of Chateau Margaux for the table, a ridiculously expensive bottle of red wine that I could barely taste, and served us our appetizers—some kind of foie gras and thin slices of sashimi that looked more like art than food. I smiled, nodded at the right moments, and did my best to stay focused as Fredriksson went on about his needs—how he wanted this yacht to be the crown jewel of his collection.
I tried to be my usual self—confident, charming, unfazed—but my mind kept wandering. Kept drifting back to this morning. To Bella. To the way she’d kissed me, the way she’d touched me.
To the way I’d pushed her away. Again.
Fuck, was that all I could do?
No wonder she’d smiled like that at Eli Moretti when he’d talked to her, looking like he wanted to devour her. Why wouldn’t she respond to someone who gave her the attention she deserved, someone who wanted her? Even if Eli wanted her for the wrong reasons… and just thinking about that pissed me the fuck off.
Alex kicked me under the table, and I jerked upright, swallowing a bite of foie gras that I’d barely registered putting in my mouth.
“I was just saying,” Fredriksson continued, his eyes narrowing slightly, “that the onboard stabilizers are crucial for our plans to entertain large groups at sea. I assume that’s something you can easily accommodate?”
“Absolutely,” I said, my voice steady, even though my mind was anything but. I scrambled to try to catch up with the conversation I’d missed, putting the pieces together as best I could. “We can customize the stabilization system to handle any conditions you want. Whether it’s choppy waters or calm cruising, we’ll make sure it’s the smoothest ride possible.”
Fredriksson nodded, his eyes searching mine for any hint of doubt. I kept my smile plastered on, hoping he couldn’t see the unease under my mask. I knew what I was talking about—I was the designer, and I knew the yacht inside and out. It was my only saving grace right now.
“Good to hear,” he said, finally relaxing, and took a sip of his wine.
Alex shot me a quick look, and I knew he was wondering what the hell was going on with me. He was irritated, there was no denying it. And I guess he had a reason to be. I’d been here from the get-go, even when he’d had to go back home for a while. I should have been more on top of things.
Normally, I’d be leading this meeting, running circles around anyone we had to impress, but today I felt like I was on autopilot.
I glanced down at my plate, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the silverware. I looked like shit—or maybe that was just how I felt. I’d spent half the rest of my morning replaying everything with Bella rather than preparing for this meeting, trying to convince myself that I didn’t care.
Spoiler alert: I did.
The waiter arrived again, this time with our main courses. Lobster Thermidor, served with some kind of creamy sauce that smelled incredible, and sides of roasted asparagus and truffle mashed potatoes. The kind of lunch that cost more than some people’s rent.
Hey, what could I say? We were here to impress.
Fredriksson dug in, clearly enjoying himself, while I picked at my food, trying not to let my thoughts drift again.
Bella.
Why did it always come back to her?
And Eli. That fucking snake. Seeing him smile at her, all slick charm and bullshit… It made my blood boil.
Fredriksson excused himself to the restroom, and Alex immediately leaned in, his voice low. “What the fuck is going on with you?”
I sighed, dropping my fork onto my plate. “Nothing, I’m fine.”
“Bullshit.” Alex frowned, his eyes narrowing. “You’re distracted. You’ve barely said two words that make sense all morning. This guy’s worth millions, Chris. Millions. You need to get your shit together.”
I ran a hand through my hair, leaning back in my chair. “I know, alright? I’m trying. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
Alex studied me for a moment, then his expression softened slightly. “You’re all worked up. This is about Bella, isn’t it?”
I scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Alex rolled his eyes at me. “Don’t play dumb. Ben told me she’s on your yacht, and I’m not fucking stupid.”
I shook my head. “It’s not. It’s about a lot of things.”
“Uh-huh.” He didn’t look convinced. “You know, you can talk to me, right? I’m not just your business partner. I’m your brother.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t feel like talking,” I snapped, immediately regretting the harshness in my tone. I sighed again, softer this time. “Sorry. It’s just… complicated.”
Alex shook his head. “It always is with you two. Whatever it is, I’m here for you, but it has to wait and you have to get your shit straight so we can figure out this deal. I know she means a lot to you, but I don’t want it to interfere with business. You have all the time in the world to be lovesick but we only have a few days to—”
“Drop it, Alex,” I warned, my voice low. “I don’t need a lecture right now.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. Just get this done right, okay?”
I clenched my jaw, irritated that Alex was on my case about it, that Ben had told him, that Alex knew there had to be more if she was distracting me. I was irritated that the thought of her was distracting me in the first place. I had to be better than this.
“I need you at your best,” Alex added.
I nodded, forcing a smile. “I got it. Don’t worry.”
Alex hesitated. “Do you think Eli is going to be trouble?”
My stomach twisted at the mention of Moretti’s name. “Nothing I can’t handle,” I said, my voice tight.
Alex didn’t look convinced. “Chris, he’s caused enough problems for us in the past. If he’s sniffing around again—”
“I said I’ve got it under control,” I snapped again, more forcefully than I intended. Alex blinked, taken aback, and I immediately felt like shit. Alex wasn’t a bad guy. He knew what he was doing with the business and he was just concerned. He had every right to be, too. Eli Moretti had caused a lot of trouble for us before and if it happened again, it could be a real stumbling block.
“Alright,” he said, his voice hard. “But you better watch your back, Chris. He’s not someone we can afford to underestimate.”
Fredriksson returned, and Alex plastered on his business smile, turning back to charm our potential buyer. I followed suit, slipping back into my professional persona, nodding at the right times, answering questions, making promises we’d damn well deliver on. This time, I was completely invested in the conversation, not letting myself drift away so that I didn’t hear what was being said.
But beneath it all, the thoughts kept churning. Bella. Eli. The past I couldn’t seem to escape, no matter how hard I tried. And the fear—the deep, gnawing fear—that I was going to fuck this up. Not just with Bella, because been there, done that, but with the business, too. It had gone so well for so long that something was bound to go wrong, and if it did, it would be all my fault.
Fredriksson raised his glass in a toast, and I mirrored the gesture, the wine tasting like ash in my mouth. I forced a smile, ignoring the knot in my chest.
“To new beginnings,” Fredriksson said, his voice full of optimism.
“To new beginnings,” I echoed, even though it didn’t feel like new beginnings at all.