Flynn just watched her silently, unworried.
After a few rings, Felix picked up. “Belle. I thought you were on vacation.”
“I am. Is Fontaine for sale?”
He made a sputtering sound. “What?”
“Are you selling Fontaine?” she repeated.
“Why would you ask that?” It didn’t escape her that he didn’t answer the question.
“Because,” she said slowly, “I’m on a ship with a man who claims he made you an offer.”
“Who?”
“That isn’t the point,” she said, patience dwindling. “Are you selling?”
Felix cleared his throat uncomfortably. “This isn’t a conversation we should have over the phone. If you want to talk when you come back to the office, you know my door is always open.”
Felix still didn’t deny it.
She felt sick. “Don’t you dare sell to Flynn Dawson,” she said, and hung up without saying goodbye.
She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, unsure what to do next. How had this happened? Her future was suddenly as unsteady as the waves shifting around the boat. And why? Because she’d shown an interest in Marco and his brother wouldn’t hear of it.
“Sit down,” he said. “We can talk over breakfast.”
Her eyes flicked open, and she marched to the table, hating that he could sit there so calmly. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. It’s blackmail.”
“No, it’s business.”
She sat down, glaring at him.
The waiter came into the room with a pitcher and notepad. He nodded pleasantly as he poured water into the glasses. “Ready to order?” he asked, oblivious to the tension.
Flynn handed his menu to the waiter. “I’ll have the lobster quiche.”
The waiter jotted down the order on his pad and turned to Belle. “And you, señorita?”
She wasn’t hungry but didn’t want to explain why. “The same.”
Another note, then he picked up her menu as well. “A good choice. You will be very happy.”
Oh, it would take a lot more than quiche to make her happy. The waiter tucked his notepad into his apron and left as cheerily as he’d come.
Belle slumped in the chair, her breaths coming too fast. She slowed them, tried to think and speak rationally. “You don’t want to buy a fashion house. You’re bluffing.”
“Possibly,” Flynn said, “but can you afford to take the risk? How you act this week could affect your future.”
A pink tint was warming the horizon, turning the water golden. She ignored it, unable to enjoy the sunrise. “Maybe it’s time I looked for a job at another house anyway. One with more reasonable management.”
“Now who’s bluffing?”
He was right. She didn’t want to start over somewhere new, and had as much as told him that last night.
She sat back in her seat. “Fine. Go ahead and give me your demands.” She waved her hand as though conceding. “But consider this: I can always tell Marco that you bought my company as a way to threaten me into staying away from him. What will he think about that?”
For the first time, Flynn grimaced. It was a slight movement that was gone in a moment, but still a point in her favor. She decided to press it.
“When I tell him, I’ll be sure to cry on his shoulder,” she said. “I can be very convincing.”
He laced his fingers together, surveying her. “You’re assuming I’m threatening you. That doesn’t have to be the case. I can finally give you the promotion your boss keeps promising.”
“You could if you actually owned the company. But you don’t. All you did was make an offer.” He wasn’t in a position of power, not yet, and might not ever be.
He didn’t take it that way. “Then it’s just a matter of price?”
She blinked at him in disbelief. He thought he could buy people off? Worse, he thought she was the type of woman who could be bought off. “No, it’s not. You are a horrible person, and I can’t believe I let you kiss me.”
He fought a smile. “As I remember it, you kissed me.”
“Clearly a mistake.” She stood, through with the conversation. “I’m going out on the deck.”
This time, he didn’t stop her.
Chapter 9
Belle went down the stairs to the main deck. In the dining area at the center of the boat, about two dozen people sat talking, eating, and taking pictures of the sunrise. She paced to the rail at the end of the boat and looked out at the water. How many hours did this cruise last anyway? She should have asked last night. Although, last night she wouldn’t have cared if the cruise lasted all day. She’d been too worried about what to tell Marco and how to explain kissing his brother.
After about ten minutes, Flynn came downstairs and walked over to her. “Your breakfast is waiting.”
She didn’t look at him. “I’m not hungry.”
He leaned against the rail with an unspoken sigh. “Trust me, this cruise is already more fun than what Marco’s doing this morning.”
“And what would that be?” She had to ask. It might help her find him later.
“A nature walk with our father. Marco will most likely be helping Aunt Karen over slippery rocks while Dad lectures about the difference between clams and mussels.”
“Sounds lovely,” she quipped. “What are they doing afterward?”
Flynn didn’t answer. Instead he unapologetically studied her. “What exactly did you do to yourself so that Marco didn’t recognize you?”
“It’s been seven years since the wedding. People change.”
“That’s not it,” he said, dismissing her explanation. “When you first saw me, you said you’d changed a lot.” His gaze slid over her. “So what is it? Did you lose weight? Get a nose job?”
“I used to be invisible, that’s all.”
“I can’t remember if I ever saw a picture of you back then.”
“Why would you have ever seen a picture of me?”
“Because Daisy hinted at the wedding that she could set us up.”
Belle’s eyes widened. Daisy had wanted to set her up with Marco’s brother? Well, that wouldn’t have worked. Not back then, and certainly not now.
Flynn leaned against the rail. “Funny that I don’t remember whether I saw a picture or not.”
Figured. “Like I said, I used to be invisible.”
“You couldn’t have been hideous. I would have remembered that.”
Belle wondered if he would have remembered if she had been beautiful. But then, Flynn was obviously the sort who always had beautiful women with him. They probably all ran into an unremarkable blur in his mind.
“Now I’m too curious not to check.” He pulled out his phone. “Daisy must have some pictures posted of you from back then. I just have to scroll through seven years to find them.”
“I doubt she kept any of me.”
“Ah yes, the unfriending drama. What was that about, anyway?”
Belle glanced at her watch. The hands hadn’t seemed to have moved since she’d come to the railing. “I don’t remember.”
“I doubt that.” He looked at her, watching her as though he could read her history in her eyes. “It was some little, stupid thing that had all of the women at the family reunion talking. I could ask one of them. They might remember.”
Great. “Your family was really talking about my unfriending Daisy?”
Flynn snapped his fingers. “Now I remember. She missed a lunch date. That was it.”
“No. Well, in a way, but it was a birthday lunch. She missed my birthday.”
“Right. And somehow that was unforgivable.”
“She said wanted to spend the afternoon together, so I took off work, and then she stood me up.”
Flynn nodded. “The women at the reunion were debating whether forgetting a lunch date was worse than skipping out on a wedding.” He tapped his fingers against the rail. “You probably don’t want to know their consensus.”
This
was good to know. All of Marco’s relatives thought she was terrible. “That lunch wasn’t the only thing; it was just the last straw. When I got upset about her standing me up, she called me melodramatic and selfish. Selfish. When she was the one who…”
She stopped herself. The problems with Daisy always led back to Marco. Daisy knew about Belle’s feelings for him, but hadn’t cared. She’d taken Marco away from her without any remorse, without any thought of what it might do to her.
“I don’t know why I’m even trying to explain anything to you.”
He scrolled through his phone again, searching through pictures. “Probably because I’m the understanding type. People naturally confide in me.”
She sighed with exaggerated patience. “Now that I’ve met you, I can totally understand why you drove Marco crazy.”
“Is this you?” Flynn’s eyes went to hers, then back to his screen, comparing.
“Let me see it, and I’ll tell you.”
Flynn stepped closer until his arm was brushing into hers. She wished he weren’t so near. The scent of his cologne reminded her of last night, reminded her that she’d wound her arms around his neck and drank in that smell.
She peered at the screen. It showed a picture Daisy had taken while they’d been cleaning their apartment for inspection. Belle’s hair was pulled back in a ponytail, she wore no makeup, and she was making a face at their dirty oven.
“Okay, that’s not the best picture of me.”
“I imagine not.”
She took the phone from him and searched through Daisy’s pictures. She’d expected Daisy to delete them after their falling out, so Belle was surprised to see any pictures of herself. Maybe deleting them had been too much of a hassle.
Belle found one of the two of them on a fall walk among draping yellow trees. Their heads were bent together; they wore huge grins as they laughed at some long-forgotten joke. That was back before Daisy and Marco started dating. Before Belle found out just how replaceable she was to both of them.
She showed that picture to Flynn. “There.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You were cute, in a fourteen-year-old, totally underage looking way.”
“I was eighteen.” Belle never knew whether to be glad or not that her ultra-high metabolism had calmed down. Yes, it was nice that some curves had finally shown up, but she missed being able to down fries and donuts without consequence.
Flynn’s gaze went to her face and then back to the photo again. He let out a slow whistle and shook his head. “You’ve certainly grown up.”
She handed the phone back to him. “Spare me your flattery.”
“That wasn’t flattery. It was worry. I was hoping you looked the same back then, and that Marco didn’t pay attention to you because you weren’t his type.”
Belle couldn’t help but smile. His words were still flattery, just of a different kind. He was afraid Marco wouldn’t be able to resist her. She hoped he was right. “I’d like to think that the biggest change is my confidence.”
Flynn slipped his phone into his pocket. “So, why Marco? Why make the effort to come all the way here to track him down?”
Another question she wasn’t going to answer. She looked out at the sea and ignored him.
He waited, studying her. “You turned down my offer of money, so apparently I was wrong about that being your motivation.”
She rolled her eyes. She wouldn’t dignify that comment with a response.
His eyebrows drew together as though she were a puzzle to solve. “I can’t imagine you’ve been carrying a torch for him all these years. I mean, you hardly knew the guy. That leaves one motive: revenge against Daisy. Seems kind of petty for one missed lunch date.”
“I did know Marco,” she said. “Really well. I knew him before Daisy ever did.”
“Ah,” Flynn said, “so it’s the torch after all.”
Saying anything had been a mistake. She turned back to the rail.
He watched her for another minute, silently scrutinizing her. “I think we can come to an arrangement. I want Marco to be happy. And who knows, maybe you’re right for him after all. You’re obviously blind to his faults.”
“What faults?” she asked.
“My point exactly,” he said. “Perhaps that’s what he needs.”
She grunted in frustration. Flynn was determined to twist her words and make judgments about her. But he also said he wanted Marco to be happy, so she’d listen. “What sort of arrangement did you have in mind?”
He tapped his fingers against the rail again. “My parents don’t know about the divorce. My mother has terminal cancer, and I don’t want her spending her last few months worrying about Marco or grieving over his broken marriage.”
Was he serious? Belle’s gaze swung to Flynn. He was. His mother was really dying.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, and meant it. She remembered how hard it was when her father left—a different kind of loss, but still a painful one. She’d taken his toolbox from the garage and put it under her bed. She was convinced he’d come back for it, and when he did, she’d wake up and talk to him.
He never did come back, not even to pick up his stuff. Six months later when she moved the toolbox back to the garage, she sobbed all the way there. Then she took out every wrench and threw them, one by one, into the empty field behind her home.
“We’re all sorry about it.” Flynn looked out at the ocean, and his expression held no arrogance, no confident swagger. Only pain was evident in his eyes.
Belle’s voice went soft. “I won’t say anything to your mother about Marco and Daisy, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“That’s not enough.” He turned back to her. “You can’t let Marco know you’re single and available until Saturday. Right now he thinks you’re my girlfriend.” Flynn held up a hand to stop any protests on her part. “I had to give him some explanation after he saw us. Lie low for the rest of the week. If he asks about you, I’ll say you’re busy with work. Early Saturday morning, my parents and sisters are flying to Cozumel for a Caribbean cruise. After they leave, I’ll tell Marco everything. I’ll admit that I tricked you and forced your silence through my evil business ways. He won’t check out of his room until late that afternoon. You’ll have most of the day to convince him that you’re irresistible.”
“An entire morning and part of an afternoon,” she said dryly. “That’s generous.”
“Hey, it only took you a few minutes to convince me.”
“Maybe you aren’t as picky.”
He suppressed a smile. “Nope. That’s not it.”
She straightened from the railing and folded her arms. “And what happens if I agree? What is your end of the bargain?”
He shrugged. “I buy your company and give you the promotion.”
“No,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow, surprised.
Before he could speak she added, “I won’t let Marco think you bought me or my silence with promises of a promotion or threats of being fired. I’ll agree to what you ask without you buying Fontaine. Tell Marco that after you told me about your mother, I didn’t want to intrude on his time with her.”
Flynn tilted his head as he considered her counter offer. Probably all for effect. One of those things businessmen did. She was, after all, giving him what he wanted and sparing him a lot of money in the process.
“All right,” he said. “We’ve got a deal.” He held out his hand to shake.
She put her hand in his. Instead of shaking it, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. The feel of his lips brushing her skin shouldn’t have affected her. She didn’t like Flynn. Yet the motion made her breath momentarily catch.
He didn’t notice the missing breath. “Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome.” She pulled her hand from his. “How is your mother doing? Can she still get around?”
He nodded. “She tires easily and she’s on a lot of medication, but she can get around
. At least for a little while longer.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
He put his hands in his pockets. The subject of his mother’s illness seemed to make him uncomfortable. Or maybe he was uncomfortable receiving sympathy from her.
“You probably won’t run into her this week,” he said. “But if you see Marco somewhere with a middle-aged woman, do not flirt with him. At all.”
“I won’t,” Belle said.
“And if I’m there, you’ll have to be nice to me.”
She pursed her lips in mock consternation. “That may be harder.”
“For this vacation, we’re all on our best behavior. Including me.”
She made a sound that was half-scoff, half-laugh.
“For example,” he gestured at her with a sweep of his hand, “you can’t make that noise when you’re talking to me.”
“Sorry. It’s just that I would hope your best behavior didn’t involve kidnapping people or buying companies to gain leverage over them.”
“I didn’t kidnap you,” he said, as though the point were worth arguing. “You came on the boat willingly, and you’ll get off it after the cruise like everyone else. People who are kidnapped aren’t taken snorkeling or fed lobster quiche. By the way, ours is probably cold by now.”
“And I’ve decided it sounds delicious after all.” She headed back to the room. She had hours left until the boat brought them back to the resort. No point being hungry the entire time.
Besides, if she had to spend the afternoon with Flynn, she’d need her strength. Who knew what he’d pull next?
Chapter 10
Belle called for the waiter and asked him to warm up the quiche. Even reheated, it was still delicious. Flynn spoke as they ate, pleasant small talk. He was effortlessly charming—and she resented him for it. How could he act as if this were a regular outing when he’d manipulated, threatened, and bribed her from the very beginning? Normal men didn’t act that way.
It seemed a bit surreal to talk to him, a man who had Marco’s face, body, and voice. He even looked like Marco today, with a T-shirt that showed off the muscles in his arms and made him look all James Dean-ish.
Around nine, the boat stopped near a cove, and the crew helped everyone into long boats that were then rowed to a small wooden dock at the shore. During the ride, a forty-something Mexican man named Juan handed out snorkeling equipment and gave instructions on using it. Seemed easy enough. The snorkel was attached to the mask so it couldn’t come loose even if you dropped it from your mouth.
How I Met Your Brother (Power of the Matchmaker) Page 8