Page 3 of Ship Happens

His eyes narrow. “You clearly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“And you clearly do not know the damage you’re causing!” My voice rises. “Or maybe you do, and you just don’t care because it doesn’t affect your bottom line.”

Something dangerous flashes across his face as he steps even closer. I can smell his cologne now—something woodsy and frustratingly appealing.

“You don’t know the first thing about me or my priorities, Dr. Bennett,” he says, emphasizing my title with just enough condescension to make my blood boil.

“I know enough.” I grab a fresh glass of champagne from a passing server. “I know you’re just like every other tech CEO who thinks he can buy and sell the planet while pretending to save it.”

Ethan steps even closer, invading my personal space in a way that makes my heart race for reasons I refuse to acknowledge.

“You know, Dr. Bennett, for someone so educated, you seem remarkably uninterested in facts.”

That does it. The utter arrogance in his voice, the way he’s looking down at me like I’m some naïve activist not worth his time—it’s too much.

“Here’s a fact for you,” I say, lifting my champagne flute.

And then I throw my drink into his perfect, exasperating face.

Gasps erupt around us. Champagne drips from his chin onto his pristine shirt. For a split second, shock registers in those blue eyes.

Then countless phones rise around us, camera flashes going off like strobe lights.

“Welcome aboard, Mr. Cole,” I say sweetly, setting my empty glass on the bar. “I look forward to our sustainability discussions.”

As I turn and walk away, I hear the unmistakable sound of social media notifications beginning to ping throughout the crowd.

So much for keeping a low profile.

And so much for not making a scene on day one.

But the look on Ethan Cole’s face?Worth it. Completely worth it.

Now I just have to survive a week on this floating monument to excess with the billionaire whose face I just baptized in champagne.

What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter Two

ETHAN

DAMAGE CONTROL (AND PETTY REVENGE)

Iwipe champagne from my eyes and plaster on a smile as cameras flash. Thirty-four years of Cole family etiquette training kicks in: Never let them see you sweat. Even when you’re dripping wet.

“Just discussing sustainable initiatives,” I tell the woman beside me, whose face vacillates between horror and delight at witnessing a viral moment in the making. “Passionate environmentalists, you know how it is.”

The crowd returns to their drinks, though the damage is done. I can hear the social media captions being written:

“Billionaire Gets Champagne Facial from Eco-Warrior.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket. No doubt my PR team already has alerts set up for my name. I ignore it and grab a napkin from the bar, dabbing at my ruined shirt as I watch Harper Bennett storm off, auburn hair swinging with every confident step.

Well. That didn’t go according to plan.

I finish wiping my face, nodding at the bartender, who offers me another drink. “Bourbon. Neat. And keep the ice for later.”

I’d known Harper would be difficult. Her reputation in environmental circles preceded her—brilliant marine biologist with a take-no-prisoners approach to corporate accountability. What I hadn’t expected was the raw intensity of her dislike. Or how much I’d enjoy watching her lose her cool.

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