Page 19 of Modern Romance January 2025 5-8
A gleam passed through his eyes and the ferocity throttled back the tiniest fraction. ‘It’s a new day, Willow. Perhaps the sound of you begging might sway me. Let’s have more of it.’
Her heart lurched, a different sensation stealing through her body as she stepped towards him. ‘You think it debases me to beg? Good people are having to be let go because we can’t afford to keep them employed. But if it strokes that monumental ego of yours, then sure. Please. If you told me why I can...’
His eyes hardened. ‘You can what?’
She shrugged. ‘Give them a solution or even rehire them when things get better. Most of them didn’t want to leave, but we had no choice.’
He laughed. The damned infernal devillaughed. ‘Did you bother to find out why they were leaving in droves?’
She frowned. ‘What?’
‘Tell me how many you’ve checked up on since youhad no choicebut to let them go.’ His chest rippled with the mocking air quotes of her words.
She dragged her gaze from the distracting play of muscles to focus on his response.
‘Why does that matter? The bottom line is that we couldn’t keep them on.’ To battle the shame for letting the employees down and anger at her father for blatantly lying that their problems weren’t as devastating as everyone feared, she’d buried her hurt and despair in her music.
Should she have been doing something else?
‘You seem concerned with the people you haven’t bothered to check up on. Not so selfless as you like to project, are you?’
‘I’m not sure...’ Her eyes widened as the penny dropped. ‘You’re the one who’s been luring them away?’
A hard smile twitched his lips. ‘It takes very little effort when your leader doesn’t give a single damn about you.’
‘Because you’re destroying him! Tell me why!’
He didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze dragged leisurely over her, making her acutely aware of her dishevelled state. That she’d wandered far too close to him in her agitation. She caught his delicious scent once more and her belly clenched in visceral reaction. Heat arrowed through her, concentrating between her thighs as her face flamed at her body’s shameless response.
And somehow he knew. With another maddening twitch of his lips, he breached the gap between them. ‘That’s enough for today, I think. Let’s pick it up again tomorrow.’
Frustration bunched her fists. ‘For God’s sake! What’s it going to take?’
He didn’t speak for the longest time. Then, ‘You look better. Breakfast is ready for you in the dining room. Then I believe you have a work schedule to be getting on with.’
‘I’m not scrubbing any more decks if that’s what you’ve got in mind for me. I’d rather—’ She bit her tongue to stop the inflamed words she sensed she might regret.
‘You’d rather what? Quit?’ he taunted.
For the first time in her life Willow contemplated bodily harm. Such was the intense, unrefined emotions he triggered in her. Shocked by it, she stumbled back one step. Then another.
Through it all, he watched with single-minded focus. Cataloguing everything for his sadistic pleasure?
‘I’d rather do the job I signed up for,’ she amended tartly, then gestured out the nearest window. ‘Like you said, we’re in the middle of the ocean. Quitting or you firing me isn’t really efficient when I can be working. Besides, I don’t think you’d prefer to waste resources on feeding and housing me while I do nothing below decks?’
She was counting on his astute business sense although she accepted a billionaire probably would barely feel the impact of supporting one unimportant crew member.
Besides, she sensed that while he was revelling in withholding the information she needed from him, Jario Tagarro got a kick out of having her at his mercy.
Enough to keep her around...
After an age of narrow-eyed scrutiny, he caught her elbow in his loose grip and led her onto the sun-dappled deck she’d scrubbed only last night. There, on the pristine table that must’ve been set while she slept, laid a resplendent breakfast fit for the king of the vessel.
Fluffy, mouth-watering croissants she knew were made fresh because she’d watched the chef make a batch—God, was it only yesterday?—sat on an immaculate platter, next to a shallow tureen of golden scrambled eggs. Next to that a silver boat of black Ossetra caviar with a tiny spoon ready to sample. Rich smoked salmon sprinkled with shaved truffles were curled next to good old-fashioned plain bagels with not a sesame one in sight.
‘Sit down and eat something.’
She tugged her arm from him, at once affected and mildly disturbed that he was eating breakfast with her. She was swimming in agitation when he leaned close, his breath washing over her ear. ‘Get through one half-hour block without fainting, choking, or risking dehydration and you won’t be fired. How’s that?’