Chapter 16
BERNADETTE
Ifloated back to the bungalow on a cloud of pure satisfaction. The Safety Bingo had been a hit. An actual, genuine hit. People had thanked me. They’d engaged with the material instead of treating me like a plague carrier.
I did good. Really good. For the first time since arriving on Miratoa, I felt like maybe I could do this job without everyone hating me.
Annika was already inside when I arrived, wrapped in a robe and reading something on her tablet. She had decided to take advantage of the day off with a little quiet time. She looked up and smiled when I came in. “You look happy.”
“I am happy. Bingo actually worked. I thought they’d throw the cards at me, but they were into it.” I kicked off my shoes and dropped onto the small sofa. “After yesterday, I didn’t think I’d ever win any of them over.”
“Yesterday was rough,” Annika agreed. “But today you showed them who you really are. Someone who cares about keeping them safe, not just someone trying to ruin their fun.”
I wanted to bask in the feeling. To just sit there and enjoy the fact that I’d done something right. It felt good not to be hated.
Then my phone rang.
I looked at the screen. Dad. My good mood evaporated like mist in sunlight.
“I should take this,” I said to Annika.
“Of course. I’ll give you some privacy.” She disappeared into her room, closing the door softly behind her.
I answered. “Hi, Dad.”
“Bernadette.” His voice was clipped and all business. “Status update. How are things going on the Blackwell shoot? I expected to find an email from you about the progress.”
It was late back home, but that didn’t mean anything. My father rarely slept. I could picture him in his study, holding a glass of scotch and sitting in his leather chair.
“Good,” I said, unable to keep a note of pride from creeping in. “Really good, actually. I’ve been working with Sebastian to make sure everything is done right.”
“Good?” He muttered. “That’s disappointing.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I was hoping for problems. Issues. Violations we could use to void the policy.”
My stomach dropped. “Dad, there haven’t been any violations. Everyone’s following the safety protocols. Sebastian has been very receptive to my guidelines.”
That was just a little white lie.
“So you haven’t seen anything that would invalidate the policy?” His tone was sharp. “Nothing at all?”
“No. They’re being careful. Professional. We weren’t able to shoot today because it’s raining.”
“Are you sure? Look harder, Bernadette. These fashion people are always cutting corners. Always taking risks they shouldn’t.”
I stood up, pacing across the small living area. “Wait. Are you saying you want me to find a way to invalidate their policy? Even if there’s no legitimate reason?”
“No one’s saying that,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “But it would be really beneficial to the company if you did find something. We keep all the premiums they’ve paid without any risk of having to pay out anything. That’s good business.”
“That’s—” I struggled to find words. “That’s fraud. That’s what you’re describing. Insurance fraud.”
“Don’t be dramatic. It’s perfectly legal to enforce the terms of a contract. If they’re in violation, even technically, we have every right to void the policy.”
“But they’re not in violation!”
“Then find something.” His voice took on that tone that was lethal. All business. Cutthroat. “Look, Bernadette, this is how we make money. We collect premiums and we don’t pay out claims. That’s the model. That’s how insurance works. If you don’t like it, find another line of work.”
“Maybe I will,” I said, anger flaring hot in my chest.
“Don’t threaten me. You work for me because you’re family, but don’t think for a second that I won’t replace you if you’re not willing to do what needs to be done.” He paused. “It’s all legal. Perfectly legal. Morality is for philosophers and clergymen. We’re in business.”
I closed my eyes, feeling sick. “I’ll keep my eyes open for any legitimate violations. But I’m not going to make something up. I’m not going to manufacture a reason to screw these people over when they’re doing everything right.”
“That’s all I’m asking,” he said, but we both knew he was asking for more. “Keep me updated. And Bernadette? Don’t disappoint me.”
He hung up without saying goodbye.
I stood there holding my phone, feeling like I needed a shower. It felt like his words had coated me in something oily and wrong that I couldn’t wash off.
There were parts of my job I liked. The problem-solving. The careful analysis of risk. The satisfaction of preventing disasters before they happened.
But this? This was the part I hated. The part that made me feel complicit in something ugly. The part that made me understand why people hated insurance companies. I wasn’t sure who was hated more, us or lawyers. We were all out to screw people over.
My father wanted me to sabotage good people doing good work. Wanted me to find technicalities and loopholes that would let the company keep millions while leaving Blackwell Couture exposed and vulnerable.
He made sure he didn’t come right out and tell me to screw anyone over because that would be illegal and one of those equally nasty lawyers would come after us.
Briggs Blackwell. Briggs would come for us hard. I did not want to make enemies of the Blackwell family.
I felt tears threatening again and pushed them back. No. I wasn’t going to cry. Not over this. Not over him.
I stepped out onto the porch. The rain was still coming down in heavy sheets, turning the night into a wall of water and sound.
It was dark out there—properly dark in the way cities never were, with only the light spilling from bungalow windows to break up the blackness.
Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance.
It was terrifying to think the only thing to protect us was a flimsy bungalow with a flimsier roof. It was exciting and calm all at the same time. Nature was amazing. And I rarely got the chance to truly enjoy it.
I sat in one of the chairs on the porch, protected from the rain by the overhang, and took deep breaths. I closed my eyes and let the sound of the rain drown out my father’s voice in my head. Being in the real deal was a hell of a lot better and louder than my sound machine back home.
I wanted out.
I’d love to find another career that didn’t involve my father. I didn’t want to look for ways to deny people help when they needed it most. But my father would lose his mind if I tried to leave. He would absolutely disown me like he’d threatened when I’d mentioned graduate school.
If you turn your back on this family, this family will turn its back on you.
Maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing.
Did I need him? No. Not really. I had enough money in savings to get by for at least six months.
I would have to cut back, but I could do it.
Financially, anyway. He was my only family.
Could I really just walk away from the only family I had?
Then again, was he really family? It’s not like he was super loving or we spent any time together.
I stared out at the jungle and felt a weird and terrible urge to walk in there. I wanted to do something that broke the rules. It would be my big fuck you to my father.
A shadow moved through the darkness and thoughts of encountering shadows in the jungle quickly left my mind.
Maybe I was a bit of a chicken shit. I focused on the shadow moving toward me and realized it was a man.
It was Sebastian, carrying an umbrella that was doing a terrible job of keeping him dry.
“Annika’s inside,” I said as he climbed onto the porch.
“I’m here to see you,” he said, shaking water from his hair like a dog.
“Oh.”
He collapsed the umbrella and set it aside, then sat in the chair next to mine.
“Here,” he said, pulling something from under his jacket.
A plastic bag with two bottles of water and another bag of what looked like chips.
“I found these earlier in the lobby of the resort. Taro chips. Local thing. I can’t get enough of them.
Pretty sure I’m getting fat on this trip.
All that clean eating before and I’m ruining it. ”
I laughed despite my mood. “You’re not getting fat.” He was still a toned god, all lean muscle and perfect proportions. He probably had to work out twice a day just to maintain it.
“You’re sweet for lying.” He handed me the bag. “But seriously, try them. They’re amazing.”
I took the bag, touched by the gesture. “Thank you. Did you just come over to bring me water and snacks?”
“No, actually. Business.” He pulled out his phone. “There’s a chance we’ll have to do some shoots in the rain over the next few days. The forecast is looking unpredictable. Walk me through what we’d need to do to make that safe.”
And just like that, we were talking shop. I outlined the concerns that I had catalogued before we came. I knew rain was likely. He nodded along, occasionally stopping me to ask questions, and he actually opened his notes app and started typing things down.
I might have swooned a little.
“Okay,” he said after we’d covered the major points. “Doable but not optimal.”
“Yes. But you’re on a tropical island—rain happens.”
He nodded. “See? This is good. This is how we should have been working together from the start.”
“Yeah, well, we got off to a rough start.” I shrugged. “I don’t do a lot of client-facing work. So the rough beginning is probably my fault.”
“No, it’s my fault. I was defensive and stupid.” He pocketed his phone but didn’t get up to leave. “How are you holding up? Really?”
The question caught me off guard. “I’m... okay. Today was good. Better than I expected.”
“But?” He’d heard the hesitation in my voice.
“But my dad called earlier. He’s been hassling me about the shoot.” I left it vague, not wanting to admit what my father had actually asked me to do. “Family business pressure, you know?”
“Oh, I know.” He leaned back in his chair, his expression understanding. “It’s weird, right? Working for family. There’s all this extra weight to everything you do. You’re not just representing yourself; you’re representing the name. The legacy. All the expectations that come with it.”
“Exactly.” I looked over at him, seeing him differently in that moment. “Do you and I actually have something in common?”
“Careful. I don’t want people finding out.
” He grinned, but it faded quickly. “Seriously, though. I get it. My brothers have been doubting me for years. My dad—before he died—he saw me as the face. The charmer. Not the serious one who could run things. When we all slid into the business, there was never any doubt I would be staying in front of the camera. Adrian does a little modeling here and there but that’s just to promote the Blackwell name.
I just feel like they only see the guy in the pictures and not the guy standing right in front of them. ”
I nodded as I listened and felt like I was getting a glimpse into the man under the beautiful mask he was born with.
He chuckled and shook his head. “I know, poor little rich boy with the good looks.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“It’s just… it’s a lot.”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “It is.”
The porch felt like a little bubble, separate from the rest of the very wet world. It felt protected. Intimate.
Our knees brushed. Just barely. Just enough that we both noticed.
Neither of us moved away.
“Your father sounds like a hard man to please,” Sebastian said.
“He is. Nothing’s ever quite good enough.” I took a breath. “What about yours? What was he like?”
“Intense. Driven. He built Blackwell Couture from nothing, you know? Started as a single dressmaker and turned it into an empire. Hard to live up to that legacy.”
“I can imagine.”
Lightning flashed, bright enough to illuminate the entire resort for a split second. Thunder followed almost immediately—a crack so loud it felt like the sky was splitting open.
The lights flickered. Once. Twice.
Then went out completely.
I jumped, a startled sound escaping me before I could stop it.
Sebastian’s hand found my arm in the darkness. “Hey. You okay?”
“Yes.”
His hand stayed on my arm. I didn’t move. I didn’t even want to breathe. Like when a gorgeous, rare butterfly landed on you and you didn’t dare move a muscle.
I stayed perfectly still to keep the rare beauty from pulling away.