Episode 103
EPISODE 103
GET IT DONE OR THIS IS DONE
River
As I leave the kitchen, I look over my shoulder. June and Desi seem to be doing fine without me, so no one will miss me for a few minutes. I turn my head and nearly run into Marc, the sous chef who’s working with Ariel and Seb.
“Hey, sorry,” I say, evading a collision. “How’s Ariel?”
“She’ll be just fine. I got her all bandaged up.”
I raise my eyebrows. “You?”
“Yeah. All chefs have first aid training. Kitchen accidents, you know.”
“I didn’t know, but I’m glad that’s the case.”
“Sebastian is with her now,” Marc says.
I twist my lips. “Anyone else with her?”
“Just the two of them when I left.”
Yeah. I know what’s going on. Sebastian is “taking care” of Ariel, and I’m pretty sure I know his methodology.
“I’m going to finish up the appetizers,” Marc continues, “because Evangeline says we’re going to start the meal soon, and the apps will be served first. Where are you off to?”
I can’t help a glance at Emily’s long legs. “To see Evangeline. Where is she?”
Marc looks around the kitchen. “I assumed she was in here. Ariel asked her for some water, but Sebastian brought it.” He leans close to me. “I’m a little worried about her.”
My heart jolts. “About Ariel?”
“No, she’s fine. I mean Evangeline. She doesn’t look good, man. She seemed awfully squeamish around the blood and all.”
He’s not wrong. Evangeline hasn’t looked good all day. She clearly thinks her life is in danger, so much so that she needs me here for a full two weeks. I glare over at Misty, who seems to actually be enjoying herself making whatever the hell it is she and Emily are making.
Marc heads toward his station. “Time to sauté the shrimp.”
I walk swiftly toward the stairway and head upstairs toward Evangeline’s suite, but then make a detour toward my own. I discard the apron, grab a clean T-shirt, and throw it over my head. I’m not Brett or Seb. It’s not my goal to have the women gawk at my bare chest.
For a second, I think of June—her fingers sliding over my pecs…and the kiss we shared. It was nice, and I enjoyed it.
But it wasn’t enough to get me out of this stormy mood. How the hell did I let Brett talk me into this? Hell, how have I let him talk me into anything when it turns out I don’t even know my best friend in the world?
When I reach Evangeline’s suite, I pound all my aggressions onto her door.
No response.
Of course there’s no response. Where the fuck is she? Isn’t she supposed to be running this thing? But I breathe in and try to calm my anger. If she’s truly frightened, truly thinks someone is going to kill her if…
Is she telling me the truth? I don’t know what’s at stake for her because she won’t elaborate. I only know it has something to do with Misty and her infatuation with me. For some reason, I have to stay here for two weeks and let Misty get to know me.
I pound again. “Evangeline! Open up!”
I’m being loud, I know, but the others are all in the kitchen working and not paying any attention to me. They probably can’t hear me from this far away. And if they can? I don’t give a flying fuck.
I continue pounding until the door finally opens and Evangeline stumbles forward, falling into my arms.
She’s light as a feather, and I lift her and walk into her room and get her situated on the couch.
“What’s going on?” I ask, tempering my anger. She looks terrible, and she’s obviously frightened. She doesn’t need me yelling at her no matter how pissed off I am.
She swallows, her gaze focused on her hands clasped in her lap. “The blood.”
“From Ariel’s cut?”
She nods. “I get squeamish. But I’m fine. I was just about ready to return to the kitchen.”
“That’s crap,” I say. “No one gets that freaked out by blood. You fell into me when you opened the door. You’re not in any condition to return to the kitchen, or even to work at all today.” I look around Evangeline’s lavish suite. “This is nuts. We need a medic or nurse on staff. Too many things could go wrong. Like yesterday.”
The mention of Rachel gets my thoughts going everywhere all at once. Where is she? Is she okay? When the hell will Brett return with news?
Evangeline waves a hand at me, finally looking up to meet my gaze. “I thought I had all of that covered when I chose a doctor as one of the girls. I mean, how many things could go wrong?”
“Evangeline, we offered you carte blanche. You could have the entire Harvard Medical School faculty here.”
“But Ginger?—”
“Ginger’s a dermatologist. Did you think we were going to have an acne outbreak or something? And besides that, she’s no longer here, and it wouldn’t have been fair to expect a participant in this event to work.”
“Fine.” Evangeline’s tone is defeated. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll get someone over here from the mainland tonight. I’ll call the ferry.”
“Fuck the ferry. Have a trained medic or nurse here by nightfall. Get them helicoptered in. Have you forgotten that money is no object? Besides, this is a safety issue. A liability issue.”
“The women all signed?—”
“Fuck what they signed!” I shuffle my fingers through my hair. So much for keeping my temper at bay. “You think a damned piece of paper is going to stop them from suing us? Raking us through the coals? Getting our names and faces splashed across every gossip rag in the free world?”
She nods slowly. “You’re right. I should have been more prepared.”
“That’s an understatement. Get someone out here by nightfall. I don’t care what it costs.”
This time Evangeline shakes her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’ll get someone out here, but we can’t call in the cavalry, River. We have first aid kits. This is a luxury destination, not a hospital. Do you want to give the women another reason to fear for their safety?”
I look at her then. Really look at her. Not as a person who’s been derelict in her duty and has made my life a living hell, but as a woman. A woman who is not in good health. A woman who is pale, weak, and probably about ready to throw up. She did throw up the other night when Sebastian went to her room. The night he found the email to her from Misty.
“Evangeline, Ariel is not the only one who needs medical care here. You look like you need to see a doctor. You need to lie down.”
She shakes her head, swallowing. “Can’t. This whole event is my responsibility. It has to be a success. There’s no other choice for me.”
I clench my hands into fists and then count to ten in my head. I breathe in, exhale. “I can’t help you, Evangeline, if you aren’t honest with me. What is really going on here? What does Misty have on you?”
“It’s not that simple,” she says, burying her head in her hands.
A wave of sympathy washes over me. If Evangeline is tangled in a web created by Misty, she and I have something in common. Perhaps Evangeline is not the enemy here. So she didn’t get a medic or nurse on the island. She was busy finding eight young ladies based on what four men were looking for, and once she’d done that, she planned an elaborate event on a private tropical island. She overlooked medical care. She probably wasn’t thinking there’d be any accidents. Hell, I sure wasn’t.
We were all expecting a lavish event with hot women, excellent food, and fun in the sun.
“Evangeline,” I say again gently, “if you won’t talk to me, I can’t help you.”
“No one can help me.” She sniffles.
I draw in a breath. My sympathy is waning. These back-and-forth emotions are getting on my nerves. Do I believe her life is in danger? No. Because if it was, she’d be thrilled to talk to a billionaire about it. I have more money than Misty, and the four of us together could put her and her father in the poorhouse. Something else is going on here.
“Fine.” I rise. “You think you’re not safe. None of us is as safe here as I’d hoped. Get someone out here. Someone qualified to see to any medical needs that may arise. In fact, get an ER doc. I don’t want a medic or a nurse. Get it done, or this is done.”