Page 41 of The Rebel

I despise bullies.

Thankfully, Daisy didn’t probe when I switched our conversation to light-hearted. I like that about her. She’s refreshing and fun and genuine.

And she’ll be leaving shortly.

I should be relieved. I’m not. I’m already imagining how empty this place will be without her, which is crazy considering I have no plans to stick around longterm either.

I’ve had a few applicants for the role of island manager but none have the experience to run a resort of this magnitude. I’m leaning towards offering Kevin the job but he vetoed the idea when I first mentioned it shortly after Pa’s funeral.

Then again, I didn’t exactly couch my offer in appealing terms, virtually asking him to step up so I wouldn’t have to. This time will be different. I’ll put together an attractive package, one he can’t say no to. I’ll formally interview him, on the pretext that he’s up against a host of super-qualified candidates. He won’t be able to say no.

The sooner Kevin assumes managerial duties, the sooner I can leave. But not before implementing my plan with Daisy’s help.

For my idea to have an impact I’ll need the right PR and I know just the woman for the job.

My gaze is drawn to the computer screen again. She’s a whiz. I fire off an email telling her so and asking her to meet me here in an hour. It gives me time to draw up a rough outline of what I envisage for the older villas at the back of the property.

When I hear a knock on my door I glance at the time in the top corner of my screen, surprised to see sixty minutes have flown by. I get like this when I’m passionate about something and making lives easier for the kids I deal with is my new priority.

‘Come in,’ I call out and the door swings open. I’m prepared to see Daisy; I’m not prepared for the tightening in my chest. It’s an unusual feeling, part heartburn part breathlessness, like I’m an asthmatic who indulges in one too many burritos. Stupid, because my breathing is fine and I hate Mexican food.

I don’t like that the awful burn in my chest makes a mockery of my previous belief that I’m dead inside, that I don’t feel anything, because there’s an inherent quality to this amazing woman that makes me feel something, no matter how much I don’t want to admit it.

I pegged it as lust initially. Lust is good. Lust is slaked. Lust fades and can be chalked up to a memorable fantasy to be dredged up when I’m an old man.

But that burn intensifies as she enters my office, her smile light, her eyes bright, her pale pink silk sundress swishing around her shapely calves, making her look carefree in a way I can never be.

The burn has to be lust. It’s all it can ever be.

‘You wanted to see me?’ She closes the door and sashays across my office, working it.

I want to vault my desk, grab her, and take her up against the nearest wall.

‘Yeah, thanks for coming.’ I stand and move around my desk, gesturing at the leather sofas in the far corner. ‘Let’s have a seat.’

Some of her sassiness fades. She’s shooting me glances from beneath her lashes, like she’s uncertain and nervous.

‘Don’t worry, this is a good thing.’

‘Okay.’ She sits and clasps her hands in her lap, oddly strait-laced when I’ve seen her naked and wanton and willing.

‘I have an idea. For the island.’

I have no trouble articulating my thoughts usually but this project is too close to home and I’m oddly reluctant to divulge it for fear of her judging; or worse, seeing right through me.

‘For the ad campaign?’ A tiny frown appears between her brows. ‘But we’ve already finalised everything. Adding changes now will only delay the launch.’

‘I think it’s worth it.’

I sit opposite so I can see her reaction. I’ve always depended on my gut reactions to any situation and I’ve never been steered wrong.

‘Go on.’ She relaxes slightly and leans back into the sofa.

‘On your first tour of the resort, do you remember the older villas situated down by the lagoon?’

She nods. ‘The ones you want to renovate?’

‘Yeah.’

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