Page 48 of Filthy Rich

“Where have you been, Lucien? I haven’t seen you this whole cruise,” she says.

“Here and there.”

“These are my friends,” she says with a sweeping gesture that encompasses the whole group. “We’ve been having a fabulous time. They put us on a VIP tour group. You probably heard about it. It’s been first class all the way. Nothing but the best. I earned it because I’ve been on so many cruises. I’m a frequent cruiser.”

“Nice,” I say, trying hard to hide my amusement.

I wonder how the old girl would feel if I burst her bubble and told her that she is not, in fact, the VIP she thinks she is. Matter of fact, there’s no VIP tour at all. Instead, she’s been diverted to a private tour paid for by yours truly so I can keep her out of my hair while I spend time with Tamsyn.

Sneaky? Yes. Expensive? Sure. But it’s been worth every penny. And since I’m made of money, I don’t count pennies anyway. I also don’t feel guilty for hatching and executing my little plan. I’m rather proud of myself for thinking of it.

What else was I going to do? Hang around the fringes of the cruise and work in my cabin while waiting to see Tamsyn in between day trips with Mrs. Hooper and the gang? Pray to catch a glimpse of Tamsyn when she comes and goes from her work as Mrs. Hooper’s nurse?

I don’t think so.

It’s been an elegant solution for all concerned if I do say so myself. Still, I plan to keep my various, ah, manipulations to myself. Which is why I shoot a discreet frown in the direction of their little tour guide when she sees me and shows every indication of wanting to say an enthusiastic hello. Luckily, the woman remembers my strict orders and focuses on her task at hand, which is reviewing her clipboard and greeting the other ladies.

“Where you off to today, Mrs. Hooper?” I ask.

“More shopping. What else? And you?”

“The beach.”

“Ugh. No sandy toes for me, thank you,” she says, making a face.

I scan the crowd again, but there’s still no sign of Tamsyn, forcing me to ask, “Where’s Tamsyn?”

Mrs. Hooper scowls. “I sent her back to the cabin. The silly girl forgot my hand lotion.”

My benevolent attitude toward Mrs. Hooper is immediately swallowed up by a familiar tinge of annoyance. I doubt that Tamsyn forgot anything. It seems much more likely that Mrs. Hooper meant to ask her to do something but got sidetracked and forgot.

Either way, the idea of Tamsyn being subjected to this woman’s reign of nonsense—even if it’s only until the end of the summer, when Tamsyn starts her full-time job—leaves me less than thrilled. “You’re lucky to have her.”

My new frostiness does nothing to pierce the woman’s thick layer of oblivion. I doubt anything would.

“Oh, she takes good care of me,” Mrs. Hooper says airily. “And she makes me laugh. She’s a sweet girl.”

My estimation of the woman creeps out of the negative digits.

“But she’s so naïve.” She leans in for a conspiratorial whisper. “I know you haven’t spent enough time with her to notice. And you wouldn’t notice a girl like that anyway. Why would you?”

My jaw begins to clench. As if money has ever done anything to improve my character. As if a million of me with my black heart is worth one of Tamsyn with her purity of spirit.

Mrs. Hooper is a bigger fool than I thought she was.

“But I worry for her, Lucien. I really do. Her father’s gone now, and she’s got no one else in the world to look out for her. She’s lucky I hired her. What else would she do all summer with her student loans coming due and no place to stay? I saved her young life. I really did.”

I’m sure she expects someone to award her a Nobel Prize for kindness for what she’s done. Nothing else would suffice for her overinflated ego. Yet I can’t help feeling a strange pang of gratitude for the woman. Because God knows Tamsyn’s and my paths would never have crossed but for the exact chain of events that brought us together in the drop-off lane at LaGuardia.

The idea is upsetting.

Also upsetting?

Pick one: Tamsyn alone in the world. Tamsyn with no place to stay. Tamsyn with student loan debt when I’m sitting on more money than God.

I frown because I don’t like the sound of any of that.

“Oh, I know she has friends in the city. And she’ll find a little apartment, probably with three or four roommates so she can afford the rent.”

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