Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“Off already?” Tyson asks.
“I need to check in with Devin.”
“Ah, let me know if there’s any trouble.”
Phillip nods, casts me a quick glance, and says, “Ms. Hughes, enjoy your breakfast.”
When he walks away, I have to make a concerted effort not to let my gaze follow him through the dining room. I want to watch him, but I focus on my latte and take a heavy gulp.
Tyson’s attention is on me. I’m aware he’s studying me, but I’m too chicken to call him out for it.
I puff out a heavy sigh. “Well, that went horribly . . .”
He shrugs cavalierly. “Eh. Don’t sweat it.”
Don’t sweat it? Impossible. I’ll be replaying our encounter on repeat the rest of the day. I’ll be dissecting every word, beating myself up for not playing my part better. I could have kissed his ass, really cranked up the charm. Instead, I was too focused on trying to get in some verbal jabs.
“You don’t have to eat with me. I understand I’ve put you in an awkward position.”
He can’t keep the smile off his face. “You have? This has been one of the best meals I’ve had in a while. Well . . . certainly the most entertaining.”
“Entertaining.” I snort. “I should apologize to him.”
He balks. “Apologize? Absolutely not.”
“I was rude.”
His expression turns steely. “So was he.”
“Yes, but I need him. Not the other way around.”
He frowns, considering this for a moment; then he casts the thought away with a shake of his head. “I’m not so certain of that.”
On the heels of this little veiled comment, the waiter arrives with our food.
“Oh my god.”
Our side of pancakes was misinterpreted. In addition to our omelets, we’re both presented with a stack of six pancakes, each one the size of my head. Syrup drips provocatively over the sides, and butter melts in a way that has my mouth watering as they set the plate down in front of me.
Tyson’s eyes widen. “Well, damn.”
I laugh. “Eat up.”
It should be slightly awkward to eat alone with Tyson, but he’s so adept at carrying on conversation. He asks me how long I’ve worked at Bon Voyage, where I live, what I think of Aurelia.
In return, I ask about his position with Woodmont Overseas International, his time with the company, and eventually, his relationship with Phillip.
Tyson knows what I’m doing, of course. He hasn’t forgotten I’m here as a journalist first and foremost. He doesn’t shut me down, though. Either he’s trying to make up for Phillip’s harshness or he sees the benefit in throwing me a bone.
“Phillip and I are extremely close. We started working together when we were in our early twenties, and he let me live with him while I was looking for an apartment in New York City.” He gets a faraway look as he considers something. “That would have been seven or eight years ago, now. God, we were kids.”
“Single?”
He laughs. “Yes. We were both single at the time.”
“Was he a good roommate?”
“Course. I mean, his apartment takes up an entire city block. It’s not like we were on top of each other or anything. There was a cleaning service, private chef. All the usual pitfalls of having a roommate didn’t even come up.”
“So you two have been friends and coworkers for a while. That must get difficult at times?”
He mulls this over as he cuts into his pancakes. “Not really. Phillip’s extremely intense about work. So long as you do your job well, he gives you a wide berth.”
“Is he your direct superior?”
“Not technically, but with the Woodmont name, in a way, he’s everyone’s direct superior. The only people above him in the company are his father and uncle, and it’s no small secret that—with their approval—he’ll succeed them both when the time comes.”
“Do you think that’s good for the company?”
“It’s essential. No one could run Woodmont Overseas like Phillip can.”
“So he’s generally liked among staff?”
Tyson chuckles. “Think of it this way. You know the way Brits idolize Princess Diana? That’s how people at Woodmont Overseas feel about Phillip. He gives everything he has to the company. He cares about every member of staff, from the janitorial department to the chairman on the board, and they feel it.”
“So then professionally, he’s damn near perfect. What about his personal life?”
Tyson shakes his head, giving me a daring look. “That, Ms. Hughes, is something you’ll have to ask him.”
Chapter Seven
PHILLIP
My stride is punishing as I storm away from the dining room. My fists flex, then relax only to immediately flex again, over and over, at my sides as I keep a maddening pace. I don’t bother with the elevators. I take the stairs up to my suite on deck eight. I’m early for my meeting with Devin. I didn’t need to leave the dining room for another ten minutes. Getting away from that table—from Casey—felt paramount.