said quietly. She didn’t trust that tone. It suggested great horrors lurking beneath it. “I suggest you avail yourself of them. Then come find me. We will behave like civilized, professional people. We will discuss the terms of your continued employment in more detail. And we will pretend that the rest of this day never happened.”
Dru forced a smile. She told herself she was entirely uncowed.
“I was cold and wanted to get out of the water,” she said. “I’m still quitting.” She shrugged at his incredulous expression. “I can either tell you what you want to hear and then disappear at the first available opportunity,or I can be honest about it and hope you’ll let me leave with some dignity. Your choice.”
He was looking at her as if he had long since destroyed her with the force of that incinerating gaze alone, and was looking at some ash remnant where she’d once stood. She gazed back at him, and told herself the goose bumps were only from the cold
.
“Surely we left dignity far behind today, you and I,” he said in a very low voice that seemed to shiver through her, or maybe she simply shivered in response, she couldn’t tell.
“Your choice remains the same,” she managed to say as if she hadn’t noticed. As if it didn’t matter. As if this was easy for her and she didn’t feel something far too much like a sob, like despair, clogging the back of her throat. “Dignity or no.”
For a moment, there was no sound but the ocean breeze, and the waves against the hull of the yacht.
“Go clean yourself up, Miss Bennett,” Cayo said then, so softly, dark and menacing and his accent too intense to be anything but furious, and it all should have scared her. It really should have, had there been any part of her left unbattered. Unbroken. “And we’ll talk.”
But when Dru walked into the luxurious, dark-wood-paneled and chandeliered study that was part of his expansive master suite some time later, she was not, she knew very well, “cleaned up” in the way that he’d expected. He was standing at his desk with his mobile phone clamped to his ear, talking in the brusque tone that indicated he was tending to some or other facet of his business. She could probably have figured out which facet, had she wanted to, had she listened attentivelyas she would have done automatically before—but she didn’t want to do any of the things she’d done before, did she? They’d all led her here. So instead, she simply waited.
And she wasn’t surprised when he turned to look at her and paused. Then scowled.
“I must go,” he said into the phone and ended the call with a jerk of his hand, all without taking his eyes from her.
A stark, strained moment passed, then another.
“What the hell are you wearing?” he asked.
“I was unaware there was a dress code I was expected to follow,” she replied as if she didn’t understand him. “The last woman I saw on this boat, only an hour or so ago, appeared to be wearing dental floss as a fashion statement.”
“She is no longer with us,” he said, his eyes narrow and hostile, “but that does not explain why you are dressed as if you are …” His voice actually trailed away.
“A normal person?” she asked. She’d known he would not like what she wore, hadn’t she? She’d chosen these clothes deliberately. She could admit that much. “Come now, Mr. Vila. This is the twenty-first century. This can’t be the first time you’ve seen a woman in jeans.”
“It is the first time I have seen
you
in jeans.” His voice was hard then, as hard as the way he was looking at her. As hard as the way her pulse seemed to jump beneath her skin. It made goose bumps rise on her arms. “But I had no idea your hair was so …” Whatever flared in his gaze then made Dru’s skin seem to stretch tight and then shrink into her. “Long.”
Dru shrugged as if she was completely unfazed by him and moved farther into the room, settling herselfon one of the plush
Dru forced a smile. She told herself she was entirely uncowed.
“I was cold and wanted to get out of the water,” she said. “I’m still quitting.” She shrugged at his incredulous expression. “I can either tell you what you want to hear and then disappear at the first available opportunity,or I can be honest about it and hope you’ll let me leave with some dignity. Your choice.”
He was looking at her as if he had long since destroyed her with the force of that incinerating gaze alone, and was looking at some ash remnant where she’d once stood. She gazed back at him, and told herself the goose bumps were only from the cold
.
“Surely we left dignity far behind today, you and I,” he said in a very low voice that seemed to shiver through her, or maybe she simply shivered in response, she couldn’t tell.
“Your choice remains the same,” she managed to say as if she hadn’t noticed. As if it didn’t matter. As if this was easy for her and she didn’t feel something far too much like a sob, like despair, clogging the back of her throat. “Dignity or no.”
For a moment, there was no sound but the ocean breeze, and the waves against the hull of the yacht.
“Go clean yourself up, Miss Bennett,” Cayo said then, so softly, dark and menacing and his accent too intense to be anything but furious, and it all should have scared her. It really should have, had there been any part of her left unbattered. Unbroken. “And we’ll talk.”
But when Dru walked into the luxurious, dark-wood-paneled and chandeliered study that was part of his expansive master suite some time later, she was not, she knew very well, “cleaned up” in the way that he’d expected. He was standing at his desk with his mobile phone clamped to his ear, talking in the brusque tone that indicated he was tending to some or other facet of his business. She could probably have figured out which facet, had she wanted to, had she listened attentivelyas she would have done automatically before—but she didn’t want to do any of the things she’d done before, did she? They’d all led her here. So instead, she simply waited.
And she wasn’t surprised when he turned to look at her and paused. Then scowled.
“I must go,” he said into the phone and ended the call with a jerk of his hand, all without taking his eyes from her.
A stark, strained moment passed, then another.
“What the hell are you wearing?” he asked.
“I was unaware there was a dress code I was expected to follow,” she replied as if she didn’t understand him. “The last woman I saw on this boat, only an hour or so ago, appeared to be wearing dental floss as a fashion statement.”
“She is no longer with us,” he said, his eyes narrow and hostile, “but that does not explain why you are dressed as if you are …” His voice actually trailed away.
“A normal person?” she asked. She’d known he would not like what she wore, hadn’t she? She’d chosen these clothes deliberately. She could admit that much. “Come now, Mr. Vila. This is the twenty-first century. This can’t be the first time you’ve seen a woman in jeans.”
“It is the first time I have seen
you
in jeans.” His voice was hard then, as hard as the way he was looking at her. As hard as the way her pulse seemed to jump beneath her skin. It made goose bumps rise on her arms. “But I had no idea your hair was so …” Whatever flared in his gaze then made Dru’s skin seem to stretch tight and then shrink into her. “Long.”
Dru shrugged as if she was completely unfazed by him and moved farther into the room, settling herselfon one of the plush
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