Caribbean Crush Read Online R.S. Grey

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
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I’m sure her entire wardrobe has been carefully curated. Her appearance as a whole, really. You would never say her beauty is effortless, but all the effort she’s put in is definitely paying off. She’s so gorgeous I bet men fawn all over her.

I don’t want her to feel stuck with me just because I’m the first person she’s chatted with on the boat. “I’m sure there’ll be other social media influencers here. People you might know. Girls a little more glamorous—”

She won’t even let me finish. “More glamorous? Do you not own a mirror? You’re as glamorous as they come, Casey Hughes.” Her green eyes belatedly glance over my outfit replete with wrinkles and ambiguous travel stains. (Ketchup or blood? Who knows!) “Well, not exactly right this minute, per se. You aren’t planning on wearing that for the afternoon’s festivities, are you?”

“No, of course not.”

I say it like it’s laughable, but I actually had planned to wear this sundress all day. Now that’s obviously not an option. Good thing I packed heavy. I didn’t want to be without choices on this trip.

As if it’s settled, she says, “Good. Well, why don’t you unpack and get ready, and I’ll do the same.”

I find I’m all out of excuses, and more than that, I want to accept her kindness. I’ll need it. “Okay, sure. Yes. That sounds great.”

I even tack on a genuine smile. Already, I feel my worry starting to dissipate now that I’ll have someone by my side as confident and carefree as Sienna.

“We can meet out in the hallway at a quarter to one and walk to the meet and greet together. I don’t want to be late! I cannot wait to meet Phillip Woodmont.”

There he is again.

Phillip Woodmont.

The man of the hour.

The person who’s going to take me to task for my crime.

My old friend . . . of sorts.

Chapter Two

CASEY

Oh, look at that; I’m panicking again.

I think it’s my new normal at this point.

Sienna did say to meet her out in the hall at a quarter to one, didn’t she?

I’m starting to doubt myself.

I’ve been out here stalling for close to ten minutes, and I’m worried that if I don’t start heading toward the observation lounge now, I’m going to be late. I don’t even want to check my watch. It’ll only make my nerves more frayed.

This is what I get for trying to make a friend!

I should have just remained a lone wolf.

A door opens down the hall, drawing my attention. An older man steps out onto the plush carpet in the hallway. Like me, he’s wearing a press badge. It’s pinned over the left breast pocket of his dinner jacket. I study his profile, trying to decipher if I know him. There will be some serious talent on this trip. Journalists and photographers I’ve looked up to since I was in college.

He’s got a little heft to him. Tall and broad. Very little of his white hair is left, and deep, hard-earned wrinkles surround his eyes.

He looks my way and nods in greeting once he sees my press badge.

“Lincoln O’Neal. Nat Geo.”

My eyes widen in awe.

Jesus. That’s how I know him! He’s a famous photojournalist!

Say something, you nitwit.

“Casey Hughes. Bon Voyage.”

I tack on a little salute that feels charming in the moment but leaves us both a little confused as to how to proceed. Fortunately, he has the sense to carry on as if it never happened.

“Heading up?” he asks, indicating toward the bank of elevators at the end of the hall.

I smile weakly. “Um . . . yes. In a moment.”

“Right, then. See you.”

He turns on his heel and leaves.

No!

I just lost out on a chance to chat with Lincoln O’Neal! I would have loved to pick his brain about his work. Not to mention, a moment with someone as influential as him could change the entire trajectory of my career. I could have endeared myself to him. We could have chatted and exchanged business cards. At which point, he would have seen my title and laughed. Dammit. Fine. Maybe it wouldn’t have been all that helpful, but as it is . . . I’ll never know.

With a new font of courage and annoyance churning inside me, I turn back to Sienna’s door and give it three loud knocks. I was too chicken to do it before when I first came out into the hall, but it’s now or never. I can’t wait around for her all day.

“Sienna?” I lean in and speak loudly against the suite’s door. “Are you almost ready?”

“Coming!” she shouts back in a chipper tone.

That’s followed up with an audible groan like she just smacked into something, and then she shouts again. “Coming!”

A moment later, the door swings open, and I see Sienna hopping on one foot, trying to keep her balance as she slips on her second high heel. She’s grimacing apologetically. “I know I’m late. Sorry. Sorry. A tale as old as time. I couldn’t decide what to wear.”


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