Page 20 of Filthy Rich

“Would-be tragedies amuse you?” I say.

“Well, what’s wrong? Did someone die?”

“What? No. Why?”

“Because you’re glaring at me.”

I shrug it off as best I can. “Took you long enough.”

“It’s a big ship,” she says with an incredulous laugh. “And I should be the one glaring at you.”

“How’s that?” I ask, startled by the idea that I’ve caused her anything like the trouble that she’s caused me.

“Because of your disappearing act,” she says, smile fading. “You didn’t even say goodbye. Now here you are again.”

The tinge of hurt in her voice and eyes thrills me as much as it dismays me. I don’t want her looking sad. On the other hand, I damn sure want her thinking about me.

“Why would I say goodbye?” I clear my throat, determined to both sound offhand and to get my voice fully back online. “Here I am.”

“I didn’t know that, though. You never said anything about being on the cruise.”

“Huh,” I say, my poker face firmly in place. “Thought I did.”

“You didn’t,” she says sourly, staring me down.

I’m not in the habit of apologizing to anyone for anything. But my ears are beginning to burn, and there’s only so much of her reproach I can take. An unwelcome discovery on top of everything else, let me assure you.

“My mistake,” I say.

There’s a lingering hard feeling or two, but then she begins to soften, her smile creeping back.

I realize I can breathe again. And that I feel a wave of relief that’s completely out of whack for the situation.

“Come on,” I say, gesturing toward the doors and determined to get the night on track. “Let’s get you a drink. Maybe see if we can win some money.”

“Good idea.”

We head into the casino, where I immediately regret my choice of activity. I thought it might be fun, especially if she’s never been in a casino before. But it’s packed and there’s an immediate case of sensory overload, the flashing lights and various whizzing songs on the slot machines inducing a near-immediate migraine.

“This is crazy,” she says, glancing around with a vaguely horrified look. “I don’t even know where to look. My eyes can’t settle on one spot.”

“You’re right. Let’s go through here. The roulette table may be quieter.”

We find it in a quiet side room with fewer people milling around.

“This looks better.” I spot the dealer’s window and tip my head in that direction. “I’ll just grab some chips. And champagne for you?”

“Hang on.” She glances down at her dress and then at the black-tied and jewelry-heavy assemblage in the higher-stakes area. “Am I underdressed?”

Probably, not that I give a shit about any of that.

I threw on one of my new suits minus tie but didn’t think to tell her she might want to dress up a bit. Rookie mistake. I’ll make sure she knows next time.

And make no mistake—there will be a next time. Tamsyn and I have a lot of ground to cover together on our vacation idyll. On the ship. On our ports of call.

In bed.

Everywhere I can think of.

---