Page 19 of The Rebel

It didn’t work and part of my plan is to move the Rochester brand into the twenty-first century. To try new ideas, to use PR in a way that the hotels’ profiles will be what everyone talks about: the go-to place for tourists, families, and businessmen alike.

It’s a solid plan that Daisy is onboard with. But once I’ve achieved my goal, I’m out of here. Kevin understands. He’s a good guy. But how can I expect him to have faith in me when I’m filled with a self-loathing I can’t shake no matter how hard I try?

It has been five days since I fucked Daisy in that cave. Five long, excruciating days where I’ve thrown myself into work and jacked off in the shower at night before falling into bed, sleep eluding me.

She’s all I can think about and the screw-up with me not following up with the Darwin hotel’s staffing wages is a direct result. It has me re-evaluating the wisdom in keeping my distance.

Not that it seems to affect her. She’s proficient and professional, polite during our regular meetings, while all I can think about is how her lips feel and how she tastes and that sexy groan when she comes.

It’s killing me.

We need to talk. I’ve had short-term flings before, when I’ve been in Chicago or Chennai or Cairo, with co-workers who’ve known the score. Each of those times we worked hard during the day and fucked at night, knowing it would end in a few weeks. Easy, no-fuss arrangements with a clear end date.

I want that with Daisy.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, a reminder that we have another meeting scheduled to start in fifteen minutes.

I have two options: continue as I have been, an introverted recluse working behind closed doors while I focus on fixing Pa’s mistakes and refusing help, or ask if Daisy’s up for a fling.

I know which option I prefer and I hope she does too.

Chapter Ten

Daisy

Isit at a table for six at the resort’s clifftop bar and wait for Hart. I avoid the cosier tables because I don’t want to bump knees with Hart considering we’ve already bumped uglies.

I’ve chosen this spot because I want to show him the preliminary shots the photographer has taken and how I’ve incorporated them into a snazzy slideshow to take the place of a header on the website.

I’ve also chosen it because I need fresh air. I’m sick of being stuck inside, doing my best to avoid Hart. Our daily meetings have been brief and impersonal. I should be rapt. He’s giving me plenty of leeway on the campaign, has approved all my ideas, and come up with some stellar contributions of his own. For someone who loathes social media he’s forward-thinking and innovative, and working with someone who’s so focussed on success is invigorating.

But all the fake smiling I’m doing is making my face ache and our brittle politeness is at breaking point. I can feel the tension simmering between us, like an invisible wire stretched taut, ready to snap.

It’s driving me nuts.

The six-two, ripped waiter deposits an iced coffee on the table. I smile my thanks and sign for it, including a generous tip. One thing this resort has going for it: extremely cute wait-staff. Must be a prerequisite, to have modelling experience. It gets a big tick from me.

I take a sip and savour the icy sweetness. I need the caffeine hit, considering I’ve slept poorly all week, no fault of the cloud-like mattress and perfect pillow. I see the cause of my insomnia striding towards me like he has places to be, long, confident strides I envy. Being short means I have to practically scamper when we’re walking alongside each other.

‘This is a surprising change of meeting venue,’ he says, taking a seat opposite.

‘It’s good to shake things up.’

‘I couldn’t agree more.’ He pins me with a direct stare that has me wondering if he’s talking about something other than where we meet.

Heat flushes my cheeks and I reach for my laptop in desperation, needing him to focus on anything but me. ‘I want you to check out this proposed update for the website.’

He reaches out, his fingertip grazing my top lip, and I let out an embarrassing yelp.

‘What are you doing?’

‘You had a bit of cream from the iced coffee.’ He holds up his finger, studies the minute glob of cream, before popping it into his mouth and sucking.

I inhale sharply and my thighs clench together. It’s the most blatantly erotic thing I’ve ever seen.

‘Mmm…good.’ He stares at my mouth again, like he’s coming back for seconds and I scuttle back in my chair.

‘What’s going on?’

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