9. CHARLOTTE
9
CHARLOTTE
“ Y ou’re going to do great,” Victoria Morgan said, fastening the nude microphone to my dress herself. “You just talk from your heart, and you know they’ll listen.”
“I hope so,” I breathed.
She nodded. “You’ve got this.”
Next to me, Maya squeezed my hand.
“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered.
I swallowed hard. I wasn’t sure I could do this. It was my first press release, my first step forward, bringing public awareness to something I really cared about.
I’d studied my whole life to do this, but now that we were this far, I was terrified. What if I froze up there? What if I screwed up?
Or worse… what if I didn’t screw up, it all went according to plan, and people still didn’t think I was worth listening to?
“Hey,” Victoria said, her tone gentle. “Just breathe.” She smiled at me. Her gray hair was twisted into an elegant chignon, and she was the picture of elegance. When she spoke, the world listened.
“You should be the one to do this,” I said, my voice small.
“Nonsense.” Victoria tugged her white blouse down over her gray A-line skirt. “I’m the sponsor, I’m not here to persuade them. That’s all you. I believe in you, it’s why I let you run point on this.”
I swallowed hard again. My stomach was a flutter of nerves, and I felt sick. I glanced out over the crowd that had gathered.
The press release was being held at the iconic Seaview Park, overlooking the glistening harbor dotted with luxury yachts. The sky was azure, with only a light breeze, and the gentle waves set the perfect stage for my speech.
I was just terrified.
I glanced at the modest podium with its banner Protect Our Oceans hanging from it. All around me, eco-friendly banners had been put up, showing serene seascapes and vibrant marine life.
“I’m going to screw this up completely,” I muttered to Maya.
“Don’t be like that. You know you were born to do this.”
I shook my head. “I wasn’t. You might have been. You’re so comfortable around people. Or Victoria, who has them all in her pocket.”
“She started somewhere,” Maya said. “Besides, people don’t look at me with the same respect they look at you. Trust me, I can see it.”
“You’re just being nice.”
“No, I believe in you,” Maya countered. “You just have to believe in yourself, which is a challenge, I’m starting to see.”
I smiled, feeling silly, because she was right. Sometimes I didn’t believe in myself as much as I should have, but it was hard. I was a nobody, hailing from nowhere special, and I was trying to take on people who were firmly settled in their careers, with deep roots in the community and deep pockets to pay for—or bribe their way to—anything they needed.
“How do I look?” I asked.
The sea-green dress I wore was tailored but comfortable, hanging just below my knees. I’d put on neutral-colored low heels, and I wore wooded earrings and bangles. Natural makeup and my hair in a ponytail—everything I did today was supposed to remind the world that sustainability was key. Not that they would ask me about my earrings, but appearances mattered, right?
The crowds had gathered—a combination of reporters, concerned citizens, and even a few curious yacht enthusiasts.
“It’s time,” Victoria said.
I nodded and took one last deep breath before switching on my mic.
I stepped forward.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I said, and my voice carried. It was weird—it sounded like I was listening to someone else talk. And I sounded strangely determined. Well, I was. It gave me the courage to keep going. “Thank you for joining me today. We stand here not only as witnesses to the majesty of our oceans but as guardians of their fragile ecosystems.”
The crowd nodded in agreement. A few people held placards with slogans on.
Sail Responsibly, Save our Oceans.
Clean Oceans, Brighter Futures!
Green Yachts for a Better Tomorrow.
I held up a sample of microplastic-infested water. “It’s no secret that the luxury yacht industry has, at times, overlooked the consequences of its practices. Plastic pollution, oil spills, and excessive emissions threaten our oceans and marine life.”
The reporters in front of me took their notes, and cameras were pointed at me, the red lights winking as they recorded everything I said. For a moment, panic threatened to choke me, but I took a deep breath and pushed on.
I pointed to a banner with marine animals affected by pollution.
“These images haunt our dreams because we know we can do better. It’s time for change not only in how we manufacture yachts but also in our collected responsibility to protect the environment.”
A few of the onlookers applauded, and I spotted nods of agreement.
“I’ve seen firsthand the transformative power of awareness and collective action. The luxury yacht industry can lead by example. We need innovation, sustainable practices, and a commitment to cleaner oceans.”
Camera flashes danced brightly across the crowd, capturing their supportive reactions.
“Let’s work together,” I concluded. “Let’s protect what we love. Let’s ensure that future generations can enjoy the beauty of our oceans.”
The crowd erupted in applause, and reporters clamored in front of the podium to ask questions. I felt flush with the success of my speech—no one had booed me, thrown rotten eggs at me, or turned their backs and walked away because they believed what I said didn’t matter.
“Charlotte,” one reporter asked, “can you share some specific examples of the harmful practices you’ve observed in the luxury yacht industry?”
“Absolutely. While I can’t speak for every company, we’ve seen instances of improper waste disposal, excessive use of non-renewable resources, and emissions that impact both air and water quality. These practices can have serious consequences for marine life and our oceans.”
A ripple of murmurs traveled through the group as they all took note.
Another reporter held up her hand, and I acknowledged her. “What is your ultimate goal with this campaign?”
“Our goal is to foster a shift toward more sustainable practices within the industry. We want to encourage innovation, responsible manufacturing, and environmental stewardship. We believe that by raising awareness, we can protect our oceans while still enjoying the beauty of luxury yachts.”
A third reporter chimed in, “How can yacht enthusiasts and consumers support your campaign and make a positive impact?”
“That’s a great question,” I said with a smile. “Consumers can make a difference by supporting yacht companies that prioritize sustainability and responsible manufacturing. They can also raise their voices, demanding transparency and eco-friendly practices. Small changes, like using eco-friendly products onboard and reducing waste can have a huge collective impact.”
“Charlotte,” yet another reporter called out. “What’s your message to the luxury yacht industry leaders—like, for example, Blackwood Inc.—who might be watching?”
My mind immediately jumped to Alex, and a hot flush ran over me. Why had the reporter mentioned the Blackwood name specifically?
We’re on the same side. I’m not the enemy.
“To the industry leaders,” I said, and my voice sounded calmer than I thought it would, “I say this: Embrace sustainability, not just as a trend but as an imperative. By investing in innovation and environmentally responsible practices. Companies like Blackwood Inc. have the opportunity to lead by example and leave a lasting positive legacy for our oceans and future generations. It’s not just a good thing to do, it’s their moral obligation to think of the bigger picture.”
Victoria Morgan stepped up and ended the questioning, sending the reporters away with a smooth response.
“That’s it,” she said, turning to me. “You did fantastic.”
I beamed. “It was good?”
“Perfect,” Victoria said. “Now, go out and relax, have fun, do something to take your mind off all of this. You worked your fingers to the bone these past two weeks, and you deserve a break.”
“We’re going out,” Maya said, and Victoria smiled at her.
“Good. It’s great wanting to fight for a bigger cause, but you should live a little, too. Focus on yourself for a while before you jump back in and try to save the world.”
I blushed. That was exactly what I was trying to do.
The team was already starting to take down the banners, and the crowds had dispersed. I wanted to help, but Maya dragged me away before I could get involved again, insisting that I’d done my part already.
We drove straight from the press release to a bar. It wasn’t in our part of town, but Maya insisted.
“We should do something different from usual to celebrate. Besides, you can’t just be stuck in our normal routines all the time.” Maya scrunched her nose. “I’m sick of Soulstice, anyway.”
I chuckled. “I love that bar.”
“I think you’re the only one who does.”
We walked in and sat down at the bar, ordering vodka tonic for me and wine for Maya. I glanced around.
The bar was a bit fancier than I usually liked to go to, but we were both dressed up for the press release, so we fit in.
“To the campaign,” Maya said, lifting her wineglass.
I clinked my vodka against her glass, and we each took a sip.
“I hope it will be successful.”
“It will,” Maya said. “It’s a long road, still, but you’re doing great.”
I smiled. “You’re always so supportive.”
“Of course, that’s what friends do.” Maya grinned. “Besides, I really think you’re doing great, I’m not even just saying it.”
I chuckled.
“This city is fantastic,” Maya added. “I’m so glad I made the move! And there’s no want for hot guys.”
I laughed outright at that. “You’ve found someone you like?”
“Well, not like like. But yeah, I’ve found a few of them over the past couple of weeks…” She smirked.
“Of course you have,” I laughed. Maya was so comfortable around people, and she picked up guys so easily. It was nauseating almost to see how easily she fit in when it just wasn’t that simple for me. But thanks to her, I met people a lot easier, too.
“What about you?”
I shrugged. When I thought about Alex, my stomach did a little flip.
“No one who really tickled my fancy.”
Liar.
“You should get out there, Lot,” Maya said and sipped her wine. “Seriously, all work and no play…”
I laughed. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. It’s just not what I’m here for, you know? I’m not looking for a boyfriend. I want to focus on the campaign.”
“What about the reason you were late the other day?” Maya waggled her eyebrows.
“It was nothing,” I said with a wave of my hand and gulped down more of my vodka.
Maya giggled with glee. “You’re such a bad liar!”
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” I said, flustered and blushing now. “It’s not like we can be anything. Gabe would kill me.”
Maya narrowed her eyes, and the blood drained from my face. Shit, I’d said too much.
“Why would Gabe kill you?” Maya asked carefully.
I shook my head. “It’s nothing, really.”
“Was it one of his friends?” Her eyes widened.
“No, no,” I said. “It wasn’t.”
“It was!” Maya cried out, but then she crinkled her nose. “They’re not really the kind of guys I thought you’d go for.”
Maya had met Gabe and his buddies once after we’d both moved to Newport. The idea had been to introduce her to someone so she wouldn’t be completely alone. That was before I’d realized how easy it was for her to settle into a new place. She hadn’t cared much for the frat-like guys who never really grew up.
“It wasn’t one of those,” I said softly.
Before I could say anything else, the door to the pub opened, and three guys walked in. Maya glanced over at them and grabbed my hand.
“Oh. My. God,” she breathed.
I followed her eyes to the door.
They were all hot, I had to give them that. Tall, muscular, and polished, wearing expensive clothes, and they exuded confidence.
One had dirty-blond hair, and he was leaner but still stacked. The next had dark hair and the bluest eyes I’d seen in a long time.
Behind them followed hottie number three, and my stomach dropped.
“Shit,” I muttered.
“Have you ever seen three such perfect specimens in one place, at one time?” Maya said in a low voice. “Holy shit.”
My ears were ringing. The third guy was none other than Alex. Was I never going to get away from him?
His eyes fell on me, and when our gazes locked, my stomach erupted in butterflies. Which it really shouldn’t have. Because I was angry with him for lying to me about who he was and making me sleep with my brother’s best friend.
Okay, so it had all been consensual.
Mm. More than consensual.
But that didn’t change the facts.
He said something to the other two guys before he marched right up to me.
“He’s coming this way,” Maya said, as if I didn’t have eyes for myself. I looked around, as if I could find a place to escape to, but of course, that wasn’t possible.
“Charlotte,” he said when he stopped in front of me.
Maya made a small sound at the back of her throat. Alex glanced at her.
“This is Maya.”
“Alex Blackwood ,” he said, emphasizing his surname while he glanced at me before he held out a hand to Maya. She glanced at me, too, confused, before she took Alex’s hand.
“Can I have a word with you?” he asked.
“I suppose you could.”
“In private?”
I shook my head. “There’s nothing to say in private that you can’t say in front of everyone else.”
That had to keep me safe from whatever he was going to say because I was already flustered and melting on the inside. A part of me was furious with Alex.
I wanted nothing to do with him.
But the other part of me ached for him because, hell, who was I fooling?
I wanted everything to do with Alex Blackwood.
“Fine,” he said. “Are you deliberately out to nail my company?”
I glanced at Maya, who stared at me, dumbfounded.
“You just had to call us out directly, didn’t you?”
That hadn’t been me, but I could see why it looked like that. When I glanced at the other two guys—Blackwoods, now that I focused on who exactly they were—I swallowed hard. They looked at me with stony expressions.
“Let’s take this outside,” I said, my voice completely controlled. Maybe it was the vodka. “I’ll be right back,” I said to Maya.
Alex turned on his heel but he waited for me to walk to the door first before following.
Ever the gentleman.
And I was about to face him outside, alone.
Yeah, this wasn’t a problem at all .