Page 66 of Isla

"Hey," he whispers, winding his arms around my stomach, tucking his chin against my temple. "I'm not just interested in what we can do in bed, Isla. I love being around you. You make everything light up. My life used to be black and white, and when I met you, everything turned to color. I want to experience new things with you by my side. And that includes solving murders and then coming back to the room and making love."

How does he say the perfect thing every time? Like he knows exactly what I need to hear to assuage my fears. I never would have guessed this man was inside that rock-hard, gruff exterior.

"Do you understand?" he asks, turning me toward him and tilting my chin up until my eyes meet his.

"I understand, Theo," I say, blinking back tears.

"Are you ready to solve a murder?"

"Let's do it." I don't bother to tell him that I'm going to try to solve it as fast as possible so I can drag him back up here and rip every stitch of clothing off his incredible body.

31

Theo and I study our information cards before heading downstairs, attempting to memorize all of the details. Theo sticks them in his pocket in case we need a refresher, gives me a sound kiss on my lips, and then escorts me out the door. We don't even make it to the elevator before he has me pressed against the wall, his hand cradling my head, his lips devouring mine. The only thing that pulls us out of our embrace are the lights lowering twice, telling us it's time to make our way to the dining room.

I don't think I'll ever forget this night. I feel like we're in a dream as we step off the elevator and into the dining room–it's like a scene straight out of theTitanic. Theo's hand is warm in mine, the steady sweep of his thumb over my wrist tethering me to him. An enormous mahogany oval table is set in the middle of the room, crystal chandeliers dripping light over the opulent place settings.

"Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. DuPont. Please follow me to your seats." I glance at the waiter then up at Theo, unable to hide my nervous smile.

"Chin up, baby girl. We've got this," he murmurs, squeezing my hand. He pulls out my chair for me, and I sit, the chairs on either side of us still empty.

"Champagne, madame?" another waiter asks, the bottle poised over my glass as he waits for my answer.

"Please." I drink half the glass immediately, hoping to calm my nerves. Someone brushes against my shoulder, and I look behind me to see an older gentleman pulling out the chair next to me and settling into his seat.

"Good evening," he says, smiling at me, his face creasing into good-natured lines, blue eyes sparkling.

"Hello. I'm Anna Dupont, nice to meet you."

"Franklin Astor. Pleasure is mine." His smile is warm and friendly.

"Tell me about yourself, Mr. Astor." I already know from my information sheet that he's my father, and the woman sitting next to him is his new wife.

Just as he starts to answer my question, someone taps on a glass with a knife, the stragglers slipping into their seats and quieting down.

A well-dressed woman greets us with a tight smile. "Welcome to theTide Runner. We are so happy to have you on board. Please spend the next hour enjoying your meal and getting to know the other guests. The information you learn now will be vitally important in the coming hours."

"I believe you're my father," I whisper conspiratorially, leaning closer to Franklin.

His mouth drops open in surprise before he remembers the part he's playing, making me giggle. "I think I just watched your life flash before your eyes," I say, grinning.

"I nearly had a heart attack. This is the first time I've ever done anything like this. It's going to take me a bit to get used to playing a part."

"Did you come with anyone?" I ask, glancing curiously at the beautiful woman at his side. "My mother, perhaps?"

"Your mother died six months ago. This gorgeous woman beside me is your new stepmother, Camila DuPont." He winces an apology.

This is so bizarre. I love it.

"So soon, dear Father?"

"When you know, you know," he says, paling a bit at the callousness of his words.

Conversation dies down as our meal is served. Duck breast with a tart cherry sauce, roasted potatoes, and sauteed broccolini. It's delicious.

"How did my mother die?" I ask, trying to glean as much information as I can before dinner ends.

"It happened very suddenly. The doctor said it was a heart attack."

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