Chapter 22
KRISTA
Iwoke up to an empty bed and the sound of Dash’s voice coming from the balcony.
What the hell?
I rarely slept in like this. And I definitely didn’t sleep later than Dash. But apparently, the sunburn and staying up until the wee hours of the morning had wiped me out.
I sat up, gingerly stretching my arms. I felt moderately better, but it still felt like someone had shrink-wrapped my skin to my skeleton. Curiosity overrode my discomfort and I cocked my head to the side to eavesdrop on Dash’s conversation.
“Yes, I need confirmation on the lighting setup by noon today. Not tomorrow. Today.” A pause. “I don’t care if it’s Sunday. This is the job. We’re paying you a lot, so I expect your work to reflect that. If that’s a problem, tell me now and I’ll find someone who’s up to the task.”
I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. Six thirty in the morning. Dash Blackwell was awake and working at dawn. Pigs had to be flying somewhere. Or maybe he was more motivated and focused when he was pent up and unsexed.
I shuffled to the bathroom, caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and immediately regretted it. I looked like I’d been dipped in red paint. My face was puffy and my hair could rival Einstein’s iconic look.
I splashed water on my face, brushed my teeth, and tried to make myself presentable. It was a losing battle. I looked like a boiled lobster wearing yesterday’s clothes.
When I emerged, Dash was sitting at the small desk with his laptop open, phone pressed to his ear, and what looked like three different spreadsheets pulled up on the screen. He must have gone to his room to get his laptop. And it seemed like he had already showered and changed.
“Perfect. Send me the updated vendor list and I’ll review it this morning.” He glanced up and saw me standing there. His expression softened. “I’ve got to go. Thanks for being on top of this.”
He hung up and turned in his chair to face me.
“You’re up early,” I said.
“Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d get some work done.” He gestured at the laptop. “I’ve been going through the Santorini checklist. There were a few gaps I needed to address.”
I walked over and looked at the screen. He wasn’t kidding. He’d color-coded everything and had apparently already made about fifteen phone calls based on the notes in his document.
“You did all this this morning?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to make sure we were on track before we got there. No surprises.”
I stared at him. This was not the man I’d met in Athens. This was someone else entirely.
“What?” he asked, catching my expression.
“Nothing. It’s just…” I gestured at the screen. “This is really good work.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I’m not surprised. I’m impressed. I was giving you a compliment.”
He walked me through everything. The venue was locked in. Talent accommodations were confirmed. Transportation was arranged. Catering was finalized. Security was briefed.
“You’ve been very thorough,” I said.
“I told you. I work well under pressure.” He clicked to another tab. “But there’s something else we need to handle today.”
“What?”
“The models and influencers.”
I groaned. “Please tell me the fallout was not what I think it was.”
“Last night was unacceptable. I can’t have them representing Blackwell like that. So I scheduled a meeting for this afternoon.”
“A meeting?”
“A come-to-Jesus meeting.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’m going to lay down the law. They signed contracts. They agreed to certain standards of behavior. They violated those standards, and I’m going to make it clear that won’t happen again.”
I felt something low in my belly. Pride, maybe. Or respect. Or something else entirely that I wasn’t ready to name.
“That’s smart,” I said.
“It’s necessary.” He looked at me. “I can’t control everything, but I can control this. And I’m not going to let a bunch of drunk influencers tank months of work because they wanted to be obnoxious in public.”
“When did you schedule it?”
“Two o’clock. At the hotel conference room. I’ve already sent out the invites.” He smirked. “Well, I say invites but it’s mandatory. Anyone who doesn’t show forfeits their contract and they can find their own flights home.”
“Harsh.”
“It’s what they agreed to.”
I studied him for a moment. The cocky playboy was still there, but there was something else. Had it been there all along? “You know what?”
“What?” he asked.
“When you take charge, it’s kind of a turn-on.”
He blinked. Then he grinned, slow and devastating. “Yeah?”
“I said kind of. Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late.” He stood up and moved closer to me, careful not to touch my sunburned skin. “Should I keep going? Tell you about the backup plans I made for the backup plans?”
I laughed despite myself. “That might actually kill me.”
“We can’t have that.” He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers barely grazing my skin. “How are you feeling, my little lobster?”
“Like my skin is too tight.”
“You look better than last night,” he said, looking me up and down.
“That’s a low bar.”
“True.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead, one of the few places that wasn’t completely fried. “Take some more Advil. I ordered breakfast. It should be here soon.”
“You ordered breakfast?”
“Protein, carbs, hydration. Everything you need to recover.” He pulled back and looked at me seriously. “You worried me last night, Krista. You were in bad shape. It’s like you were so worried about fixing everyone else’s issues while ignoring your own.”
“It was no big deal. I’ve had worse.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better.” He meant it. He’d actually been worried about me.
“I’m fine,” I said softly. “Thanks to you.”
I wanted to kiss him and finish what we’d started last night. But my skin hurt too much, and we had work to do. And I was not going to start something I couldn’t finish. Not again. The poor man would not survive. I still felt bad that he had been left in such a bad way.
“You need backup?” I asked.
“I need a witness.” He grinned. “Someone to confirm I didn’t murder anyone when this is over.”
A couple hours later, after breakfast and a lukewarm shower, I followed Dash to the ground floor.
Dash had reserved one of the conference rooms. There was a long table that could seat about twenty people.
Dash had arranged the chairs so that all the talent would be sitting on one side facing him. Power move.
And damn, I was seriously thinking about sucking up the pain and just jumping him. I wanted the man. And I hated that I hadn’t taken my chance.
I took a seat in the back corner where I could observe without being part of the show.
My sunburn had calmed down slightly after more aloe, but I still felt like my clothes were made of sandpaper.
I’d changed into clean khaki pants and a white button-down that didn’t touch my shoulders too much, but it was still torture.
The talent started trickling in. They looked rough. Hungover, tired, some of them wearing sunglasses indoors. A few tried to joke around, but Dash’s expression shut that down immediately.
By two o’clock, everyone was seated. They all looked nervous. I had a feeling I was going to be downright orgasmic by the end of the browbeating he was about to give them. He stood at the head of the table, hands in his pockets, and waited until the room was completely silent.
“Thank you for coming,” he said. “I know some of you are probably wondering why you’re here. Let me explain.”
He pulled out his phone and opened Instagram. Then he started reading.
Even I cringed as he read some of the posts they had made. A few people shifted uncomfortably in their seats. He set his phone down and looked at every person in the room. They were all doing their best to look two inches tall.
“Do you know what those posts have in common?” he asked.
No one answered.
“They make my family’s brand look bad. Really bad.
Sloppy. Unprofessional. You’re all here on our dime.
You represent us.” Dash paused to look around.
“This is not the behavior the Blackwells expect from anyone we do business with. You have a direct impact on our brand, which impacts my family. I won’t tolerate anyone hurting my family.
Anyone that pulls that shit again, you can consider yourself in breach of contract.
Technically you’ve already broken them. Consider this your first and last warning, and be thankful I’m giving you that.
Anything else and there will be no more chances from me. ”
I watched the reactions. There were some quiet apologies and looks of shame. None of them looked defiant or resentful.
“I’ll be watching you from now on,” he said, shaking his head. “Act like professionals or hit the road. It’s that simple. Now, I’ll see all of you in Santorini, assuming you don’t fuck up because I will not hesitate to put you on the first plane out of here.”
I watched them file out of the room with heads hanging in shame. Dash walked up to me and I couldn’t resist. I fanned my face and smiled. “Man, that was hot.”
“Does the whole authoritarian thing really do it for you?” he asked.
“Oh no, sexy. I’m just hot from my sunburn.”
“Good to know.” Dash nodded. “Come on. Now that I’ve got you all hot and bothered, I want to show you the little surprise I got for you.”
“A surprise?”
I followed Dash down to the harbor. He kept glancing back at me with this smug little smile that told me he was pleased with himself.
“Where are we going?” I asked for the third time.
He laughed. “Do you know how surprises work? You have to wait and see.”
We turned down a private pier where several yachts were docked. I assumed we were meeting someone for the next phase of the production. Dash kept walking until we reached a stunning white yacht at the end of the pier.
“This is us,” he said.
I stopped. “What does that mean?”
“I chartered it. For the night. For us.”
I stared at him. “You what?”
He shrugged. “We both deserve a break. Just one night. Just you and me on the water.”
“Dash, this is crazy.”
He winked at me and leaned in close. “Don’t worry. I made sure they’re stocked up on sunblock.”
I looked at the yacht. It was easily a hundred feet long, gleaming white with teak decks and several levels. It was luxury like I’d never experienced before. It was overwhelming.
“I don’t have anything to wear,” I said.
“Also taken care of. There’s stuff in your cabin.”
“My cabin?”
He grinned. “Come on.”
I let him lead me aboard. A crew member in crisp whites greeted us and showed us around. The main salon was all leather and polished wood. There was a dining area, a full bar, and floor-to-ceiling windows. The upper deck had a hot tub and lounging areas. And below deck were the cabins.
I was shown to my private quarters. It was bigger than my first apartment. A king-sized bed dominated the space, covered in white linens that looked softer than clouds. There was a seating area with a couch and a table. A full bathroom with a massive shower. And on the bed was an outfit.
Linen pants in a soft cream color. A matching linen top that looked breezy and effortless. Both pieces had the subtle Blackwell Couture label inside.
I picked up the pants and held them against my waist. They looked like they’d fit perfectly.
He’d planned this well, proving once again he could move mountains when he was motivated enough. It was beyond flattering to know he had gone through so much effort just for me. No one had ever done anything so kind.
I changed slowly, careful of my sunburn. The linen was soft against my skin, not irritating the burn at all. The pants sat low on my hips and the top had a relaxed fit that somehow managed to look elegant instead of sloppy. I looked at myself in the mirror and nodded.
I looked feminine. Effortlessly chic. Like I belonged on a yacht in the Greek islands. And for the first time in years, I didn’t feel like an imposter.
I found Dash on the sundeck. He’d changed too, into white linen pants and a pale blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looked like he’d stepped out of a resort catalog.
“There she is,” he said, turning when he heard me.
I suddenly felt self-conscious. “It fits.”
“It looks perfect on you.” He pointed to the most ridiculous sun hat I’d ever seen. The brim had to be at least two feet wide. “For your face.”
I burst out laughing. “That’s absurd.”
“So is that sunburn.”
He settled the hat on my head. It was so big I could barely see.
I adjusted it so I could actually see him. “I look ridiculous.”
“You look adorable.”
The yacht’s engine rumbled to life beneath us. Dash guided me to one of the loungers. A crew member appeared with a tray.
“What can I get you to drink?” she asked.
I looked at Dash. He was already ordering something involving rum and fresh fruit. I ordered the same, figuring if I was going to do this, I might as well go for it. Soon enough, the drinks arrived in tall glasses with umbrellas and fresh mint. I took a sip.
“Good?” Dash asked.
“Dangerous.”
“The best things usually are.”
I closed my eyes behind my sunglasses, letting myself relax. It felt good.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
“For what?”
“This. All of it.” I turned my head to look at him. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“I wanted to. For you. You deserve it.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. No one had ever done something like this for me before. No one had ever paid this much attention to what I needed or wanted. It was overwhelming in the best possible way.