“Yeah,” I said. “You are. Sure, I’ll meet up with you. You heading down there right after work?”
“I think so. Is that cool with you?”
“I’ve got to meet up with Dan at four-thirty down at the Port; I don’t think we’ll be more than a couple hours, though. Why don’t I plan on meeting you there when I’m done? If it’s your favorite place, I’m sure you won’t mind hanging out there for a little bit. I’ll try not to be too long.”
She smiled. “That sounds great,” she said.
“And what sounds even better than that is going back to your place again after.”
She blushed but met my eye, and I could see that she was very much into that idea as well.
Martin Harris was the CEO at Bank of Atlantic, an appropriate place for him to work considering his fondness for the water and all things boating. He’d been HTS’s first corporate client, and he employed us at all of the bank branches throughout the city and the suburbs of Boston. He also used us for his family events, when necessary, and since his brother and, now, niece, were both A-list Hollywood actors—though they came with their own entourage—Martin always called on us for any gathering he threw when they were in town.
And they were coming to town next, in a trifecta of celebration: Martin and his wife’s twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, the brother’s birthday, and another niece’s engagement (not all on the same exact day, but close enough that one huge celebration could suffice). So Dan and I were down here at the Port, scoping out where the partying would take place: on Martin’s new mega yacht, a four-hundred-and-forty-foot vessel that was basically the equivalent of a cruise liner. It put his previous yacht to shame, which was no small task. But this new yacht—the Paradise Breeze—could hold two hundred and thirty people, was three stories, and included an on-deck swimming pool, fully integrated sound system, and all the marble, leather, and silk you could imagine. They’d go from the Port around the tip of Cape Cod to Nantucket, where they’d spend a few more days, and then they’d eventually make their way back. It was a big event that Martin didn’t want anyone in the media or public to find out about, which was why I wanted to meet up with Dan and go over things well before the actual date arrived.
It ended up taking a little longer than I had planned, but that’s mainly because we’d spent the first half an hour or so just roaming the place, basically eyeball fucking the whole place. When I finally left, I was a bit later than I told Daisy I’d be, but it wasn’t so late that she wouldn’t be there anymore. So I hoped, anyway. Right as I pulled my phone out of my pocket to text her though, a call came through.
Annie.
I debated not answering. I really didn’t want to. As in, there were about nine hundred thousand other things I could think of that I’d rather do than pick up the phone and have to talk to her. But maybe she was calling to tell me she changed her mind. I gritted my teeth and accepted the call.
“This is Ian,” I said.
“You know who this is.”
“You’re right. What’s up?”
“I want to see you in person,” she said. “If you don’t meet with me in person, then I’m just going to keep bothering you about it until you do. I’m available now, if you are. I just want to talk to you face to face this one time, and then I’ll leave you alone. Unless, of course, you decide that you would actually like to be involved in your child’s life.”
She was getting a little too bold for my liking, a little too demanding, but if meeting in person now meant she’d back off, then I might as well just get it over with. “Fine,” I said. “Where are you?”
“I’m at home.”
“Then I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Great, I will—”
I hung up. Then I texted Daisy, who by now was probably wondering where I was. There’s one thing I need to take care—running a little late. Be there soon.
I’d do everything I could to make sure this little visit was over as fast as fucking possible.
Chapter Eighteen
Daisy
I got Ian’s text, saying he’d be late, so I ordered myself a drink and sat at the table by myself, watching the other people around me socialize. I thought about maybe calling Caroline and having her meet us; surely she just needed to hang out with Ian again to realize that he was nothing at all like she thought. Well . . . maybe he was a teeny bit arrogant, but, then again, a lot of guys were.
“Now what is a lovely lady like yourself doing sitting all alone?”
I turned to see who was talking to me. It was Billy McAllister. He had on a white button-down shirt with the sleeves pushed up and a pair of blue jeans. “Can I join you?”
“Sure,” I said, glad for the company. Even though I didn’t know exactly what it was that Ian had to do, it was taking him longer than I expected.
“So,” Billy said. “You still enjoy working for Ruby? How’s that going?”
“It’s good. I like working there a lot.”
“Glad to hear it—it’s quite a pleasure to know that your face will be the one to greet me when I stop by there now. The other girl . . . she was a looker, but not nearly as good-looking as you. Had a little bit of a bad attitude, t