Page 6 of Embrace Me Forever

Anne then shifts closer to me. “Here’s another idea. They love luxury yachts, don’t they?”

Her words catch me off-guard. Although she might not be entirely serious, they stir a flurry of unexpected thoughts. “Well, the realm of marine technology and calculations arguably has more depth than its land counterpart.”

“What does that mean?”

I ask myself the same question. Naval engineering is unfamiliar territory, but at the end of the day, numbers are numbers. Whether it’s plotting the trajectory of a satellite or calculating the buoyancy of a yacht, the underlying principles don’t change. Algorithms and equations are my forte. What if I could concoct something so valuable that they’d happily fork over thirty grand on the spot?

“Anne, you’re a genius!” I exclaim, caught up in the excitement. “How many luxury yacht manufacturers are there in America?”

“No idea!” she shrugs.

“Probably not many,” I reply, grabbing my laptop and quickly searching online.

We scroll through the search results. Several companies pop up, but one name jumps out at me.

Hartley Marine.

I can’t go halfway. I need to aim for the biggest, the wealthiest, and this company seems to fit the bill perfectly.

My excitement grows as I click more links, revealing the profiles of the owners—two brothers named Robson and Clayton Hartley. They’re equally striking, though different. One is the golden boy, the other the dark knight. Their charming smiles beam back at me from the screen.

“These guys are definitely easy on the eyes,” I quip, mimicking Anne’s tone as I show her the photos.

Anne lets out a whistle. “It’s a sign, Gi! Two brothers for us sisters.”

I show her their Instagram profiles. “They’re married,” I point out.

“Oh, heartbreak hotel!”

“But we agreed. No walking down the aisle,” I remind her. “Maybe I can collaborate with them, keep it strictly business.” The idea solidifies as I think about Coco’s surgery.

“And do what exactly?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll figure something out.” My resolve is clear, even if the plan isn’t yet.

“What if they’re as bad as Bertram?” Anne asks, an eyebrow arched in concern.

“Now you’re playing devil’s advocate?”

“It’s a valid point, isn’t it?”

I sigh, pondering. “But this is for Coco. Maybe I need to, you know, set aside my moral compass for a bit.” But even as I say it, I know that’s not entirely true. Despite focusing on the money, I still have my ethics. I’ll deliver a solid product, and if I can help it, I want that product in the hands of good people.

Anne wraps an arm around my shoulders, offering a comforting squeeze. “Well, as they say, there’s a bit of good in everyone, including billionaires. I’m trying to stay positive for you, Gi,” Anne encourages. “Are they into any charity stuff?”

I continue scrolling, peering through various posts and articles. Robson, a dedicated father and former SEAL, holds the world record for speed on water. Clayton, also a father, used to be a fighter jet pilot and seems to have strong interests in basketball and Kenyan wine. Yet, there’s no mention of any charitable inclinations.

“So they’re the stingy type,” Anne declares with a huff, folding her arms.

“Well,” I muse, tapping my chin. “What if we try a little reverse psychology here?”

“Now you’re getting weird.”

“You’re used to my weirdness, aren’t you?” I counter. “Think about it. Maybe these guys are actually decent because they’re not out there bragging about their charity work.”

My sister shrugs. “All right, I’ll give you that.”

Curious, I type ‘Hartley Marine charity’ into the search bar, but the results are nearly nonexistent. It’s only when Idig deeper into the less prominent results that I uncover a short, old article. The main focus is Robson Hartley’s world record, with his donation to children’s mental health almost an afterthought. Intriguingly, he used his personal funds for the donation and shunned any publicity for his generosity. Further searching reveals another modest piece about his support for an organization aiding disadvantaged youth.

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