Bossy(108)

There’s ice in that gaze, but it was worth it. “No, thank you, Gavin. I’ll manage.”

“Just offering.” I can’t keep the grin off my face, while the salesgirls watch our exchange with interest.

We continue store hopping. Black Rodarte shoes. A Cartier white gold and diamond necklace with orchid shapes that looks fantastic around her graceful neck. We’re just coming out of the Annick Goutal store when she stops me. “Gavin. Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“This. How much money are you spending on me? You haven’t let me see the totals, but I know it has to be crazy. We can’t buy all these things.” For a moment she puts her hands on my arm before I glare at her and she pulls back like she’s burned them.

I’m sick of her second guessing me. It’s fun to watch her get so excited, but it’s a pain in the ass to keep reassuring her. “Babe. You’re supposed to be my fiancée. Unlike you, I packed a suit, and it’s the real deal. If we’re going to sit with the captain, I’m not letting you embarrass me in some shit you put together like you wore to that cheap-ass club.”

The expression on her face is like I just slapped her. She goes from anxious and humble to killing me with her eyes. Viciously and painfully. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“It’s been mentioned. But come on, you love it, right?” I wonder if maybe I went a little overboard, because I see hurt behind the fury.

“No. I don’t freaking love it. I can’t believe you.” She raises a finger and points it right at my chest. I’m in deep shit, but she’s fucking gorgeous when she’s angry. “Every once in a while, I start to suspect that there’s a real human being underneath that cocky, arrogant, asshole exterior that you like to show. Then you remind me of who you really are, a spoiled little rich boy who hasn’t had to work for a single thing in his life.”

People are staring. I bet this isn’t great for our reputation as happy soon-to-be-weds on a pleasure cruise before the big event. She’s not done though, advancing until her finger actually jabs right into my chest. “You know what? Forget it. I’m sick of your designer things, your pervy jokes and your daddy’s money. You think you’re so much better than me? This isn’t even yours. You couldn’t hack your own thing so you’re just riding on daddy’s coattails. I’m done.”

She turns her back and storms away, leaving me to stare after her like an idiot. What went wrong? That went way beyond our usual back and forth. I tell her to stop worrying about money, and she throws the one personal thing I’ve shared with her back in my face? Fuck that. I should go after her and settle this, right here, right now, but I’m too pissed. I’ll do something I’ll regret.

Whatever. Maybe she isn’t any different from all those other girls after all. Sugary sweet when she wants to be, and then she turns on a fucking dime as soon as she gets a whiff of something she doesn’t like. Well now I know, but we’re still stuck together.

Fuck. There’s got to be a good bar around here somewhere. A place serving something strong enough to wipe that look of hurt in her eyes from my mind.





Chapter 13: Angie


Why does he have to be such a jerk? I mean, sometimes he’s funny. Even sexy. But then he turns around and says shit like that. Logically I understand he didn’t know the dress I had on that night was the only decent one I own, but to have it rubbed in my face?

I rush up the stairs where there are less people. There’s the elevator, but waiting means standing still, and I can’t stand still right now. I need to walk it off. I’m sure as hell not going back to our room.

I see a door labeled AFT DECK 1 and I take it, emerging outside. It was nice earlier, but now the skies have clouded up, which suits my mood perfectly. Maybe that’s why there are so few people out here. That’s just fine.

The deck is nearly empty as I charge to the very back of the ship where I can be alone, watching the massive wake of the cruise ship spread behind us. Why do I let him get to me so badly? His opinion doesn’t matter. I don’t even like him. In fact, I’m starting to think I fucking hate him.

With all that’s been going on, I haven’t even given a thought to Paul. It makes me feel guilty to think of how easily I accepted that he wasn’t coming. I didn’t even call. Of course, he didn’t call me, either.

Argh, men! I should’ve brought Cassie. We’d have found a way, ID or no ID.

My phone rings, and when it starts playing Wild Thing, I actually freak out a little. It’s Cassie, as if thinking about her has summoned her to me in my time of need. Thank God, because I could totally deal with a friendly voice right now. I hit the button.