Page 20 of As You Crave It

Quin.

She rounded the table and took the one empty seat next to Jared, putting her directly across from Quin. He was wearing a sky-blue button-up shirt with short sleeves that looked like it was made from a material softer than anything she’d ever felt. His deep brown eyes narrowed when he saw her, and the cocky smile that had been on his face fell from his lips.

“Celia,” Jared said, touching her arm. “I believe you know everyone else at the table, but I’d like you to meet Quin Rexford, from Rexford Rum.”

In a subtle movement, Celia leaned away from Jared’s fingers and faced Quin. “Hello, Mr. Rexford.”

“It’s Quin,” he told her.

What was he doing there? Could it have been a coincidence that he’d just reentered her life and then infiltrated her work. What was going on?

“Quin is a friend,” Jared explained. “He’ll be joining us for the next few days.”

Celia’s gaze went to Quin, who straightened and jutted his chin. If it had been a decade ago, she would have known the movement to be defiant, but she wasn’t sure what it meant now.

“You’re with Rexford Rum? It’s a good one,” Celia added. “One of my favorites.”

“And Quin’s looking for a distribution deal with us.”

“Not a bad idea,” she told Quin.

The stewards again came and refilled everyone’s drinks. Quin said nothing, but his eyes stayed on Celia’s, trying to process the shock of seeing her, just as she was. She felt a sense of relief seeing him. With Quin on the boat, she wasn’t quite so alone. While she hadn’t been afraid for her physical safety—she could hold her own—she felt safer and not as at the mercy of her boss as she had just minutes ago. She had an ally.

But as she watched Quin joke with the other men, the sense of relief started to fade. Where did he fit in at this table?

Jared drank from his wineglass, then held up the empty glass and it was promptly refilled, and he drank again. He nodded at Quin. “Are you having any fun yet, Rexford?”

“Yeah, this is fantastic. There are worse ways to spend a few days than on a yacht in the Caribbean, right?”

“You got that right,” one of the other shareholders agreed.

“You know, I really appreciate the invitation and hopefully we’ll get a chance to come to mutually beneficial terms for our companies.”

Jared waved him off, and the stewards started dinner service. “We can get to all that later. For now, it’s time for food. Are you hungry?”

“Starving.” She could see Quin’s annoyance at being dismissed, but he recovered quickly and smiled. Jared wasn’t as observant and didn’t seem to catch it. “Good, this chef’s food is better than anything you’ve ever had. This goes for all of you. I want you to enjoy. You can have anything you could ever want here.” He turned to one of the servers. “And get this man another drink.”

Celia watched as a smiling Quin thanked the steward for his refill and started eating his first course. But it disappointed her to see him look like he was enjoying himself, laughing at Jared and his cohorts. Behind her own glasses, she glowered at her old friend as he sat with his chums at the dinner table. She’d thought Quin might be better than to associate with a man like Jared, but as the two men drank wine and joked over dinner, through laughter and disgusting jokes, she wondered about how she must have misjudged him. Eight years was a long time—maybe he’d changed. He hadn’t seemed like a bad guy the night before, but as she dwelled on their evening—him buying a bottle of rum for the table, taking the wine—she knew he had become a man who got what he wanted. She’d invited him in, and they’d had sex, and then she’d let him off the hook about a relationship. Just what he would have wanted. She lost her appetite at the thought that he’d manipulated her. Taken her, used her, and she hadn’t even noticed.

Celia recalled his every word and action from the night before. Had he played her? No, she realized, despite how much power he had to hurt her, she’d wanted him as much as he wanted her. She picked at her food, pushed the seared scallops around on her plate, unable to finish, and then leaned away from the table. She wasn’t hungry anymore. She pushed herself back and stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m not feeling well. I’m going to my cabin to lie down.”

“Are you okay?” Quin quickly asked before anyone else could speak.

They looked at each other for a moment before she turned away. “I’m fine. I just need to rest.”

Quin watched Celia walk away. He was still in a state of shock. She was the last person he’d expected to see on Jared Foster’s yacht. Seeing her take the seat opposite him had been a surprise. What was she doing there? When she disappeared inside, Quin pulled his attention back to the table and saw that Jared was watching him, his mouth turned downward in a frown.

“Like what you see, Rexford?”

He’d obviously misstepped, and he wondered if Celia was with Jared in a romantic capacity. What was she doing here otherwise? Why would she have fooled around with him on the beach, invited him into her home, if that was the case? “Just admiring the view,” he responded as coolly as he could. “Is she here with you?”

“Yeah, she is,” he said, his answer too simple for Quin’s liking. “I thought she might be convenient to have around on the boat.” He leaned in and his tone sounded menacing. “In case anything comes up. If you get my meaning.”

He more than understood the meaning. Jared was staking his claim on Celia, and Quin wondered if she knew it or not.

“And you know, women love the yacht.”

Quin tried to control his eye roll, but he was pretty sure he failed, while the other men at the table laughed and clinked their glasses with Jared’s in celebration. The other woman sat uncomfortably, looking into her lap. While Quin wanted nothing more than to break the bottle on the man’s skull, he had to keep the peace. He kept hearing Reid’s voice in his head—long line of Quin Rexford fuckups. He had to do his time, make the deal, sign the papers. Quin sighed. He knew he should say something. He’d been raised to be respectful of women. And he was disappointed in himself when he couldn’t come up with the words to tell Jared and the other men to go fuck themselves. But how? He was on the man’s yacht, in the middle of the ocean, and he needed his business. Quin had to focus on getting through the trip and making the deal, and then hopefully never speaking to him again outside of polite conversation and contract signing.

Quin knocked back his glass of wine, emptying it. It was quickly refilled. Alcohol would definitely help. But the conversation had moved on. The other men were now discussing plans for the next day.

“There are some pretty cool toys onboard that we’ll break out tomorrow. There’s a couple of Jet Skis, a Zodiac, a big inflatable slide,” Jared told the table. “And tonight, I’ve got some great Cubans we can enjoy. And Rexford gave me a bottle of rum. Could be a good evening.”

Quin didn’t give a shit about the boat’s toys, and he took one more look into the interior of the yacht, where Celia had disappeared. He’d wanted so badly to follow her inside, to see why she was here. And he remembered the look of disappointment on her face when she’d seen him at the table. He felt like he owed her an explanation of some kind.

But for the moment, he had to play the game and stay on Jared Foster’s good side. Play along for the next three days that he didn’t think the man was repugnant. But first, he had to check on Celia. At least she wasn’t on the yacht alone. At least he would be there to look out for her. As long as he was here, Jared Foster wouldn’t get anywhere near her.

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