His gaze went white hot. “Long enough.”
“Good answer.”
Beckett didn’t stop grinning all the way from the airport to the hotel. Every time he’d get himself under control, he’d take in Samara’s swollen lips and the satisfied look in her eye and know he’d put it there. Then he’d start grinning again.
“Get control of yourself.” But she was smiling, too.
The car pulled up to the curb outside the hotel, and Beckett moved quickly to climb out and open the door for Samara. She raised her eyebrows at him, but she didn’t comment. He got their bags and guided her through the doors into the lobby. “I’ll get you set up with the room and then I have to head to my meeting.” He glanced at his watch. Plenty of time.
She looked around as they walked into the main lobby. “Do you usually book five-star hotels for a twenty-four-hour business trip?”
“Fuck no.” He slipped an arm around her waist. “I usually use one of the Morningstar condos.” Beckett kissed her temple. “But this trip isn’t all about business.”
“I see.”
He let her process that while he checked them in. Next stop was the suite. They took the elevator up, and he caught her watching him. “What?”
“Are you trying to impress me?”
He grinned. “Nope. We both know you could book this place as easily as I could.” He leaned down and kissed her bare shoulder. “Want to know a secret?”
“Always.”
“The reason I chose this place specifically is because I love the ocean. It feels different than the Gulf. Wilder. Less contained. The views from this room are amazing, and the last time I decided to take a break from work and spend some time here, I sat on the balcony for hours and watched the tide come in.”
She reached up and touched his face. “A secret for a secret?”
“Always,” he said, echoing her earlier response.
“The ocean scares the shit out of me. All open water does. I could live in a swimming pool, but the second I can’t see the entirety of the body of water I’m in, I’m out of there.”
He liked this game, liked this careful peeling away of their defenses as they shared little details. The conversation in the plane had been heavy, and that was important, too. But this was something special. Something they did only with each other.
Beckett shifted closer. “Did you watch a lot of Jaws as a kid?”
“When I was eleven, my amma decided I was old enough to fend for myself while she worked Saturdays, and one of those weekends, there was a monster marathon. Jaws, Piranha, Anaconda. Back to back.”
He barked out a laugh. “I could see how that would leave a mark.”
The elevator doors dinged and opened. They walked out arm in arm, turning as one down the hallway to the suite he’d booked. This is how it could be with us. The small moments and the big. Facing down each obstacle as a single unit.
He couldn’t offer her a job again. She wouldn’t say yes now any more than she’d said yes up to this point, but at least now he understood why. In Samara’s mind, taking a job with him while they were sleeping together put her at his mercy the same way her mother had been at her father’s mercy when she got pregnant. It wasn’t even close to the same situation, but he understood why it felt similar.
The suite was similar to ones he’d used in the past—a very high-end airy feel with large windows overlooking the beach. The ocean stretched as far as the eye could see, and even that one glimpse settled something inside him. He felt Samara’s gaze and spoke without looking over. “Some days, I really consider leaving it all, buying a little house on a beach somewhere, and starting over.”
She came up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist. Samara propped her chin on his shoulder. “What’s stopping you?”
“It’s the coward’s way out. I didn’t choose this life, but it’s mine. I’m uniquely qualified to make changes within Morningstar, and it’s my responsibility to see it done.” He could sell the company—had threatened to do exactly that once in a fight with his father—but it wasn’t the right call. Most days, Beckett even loved his job.
He didn’t love what would come next in this conflict with Lydia, though.
With a sigh, he turned and took Samara’s hands, dropping a kiss to first one and then the other. “I have to go if I’m going to make my meeting.” He paused. “Why don’t you take advantage of the superior spa they have onsite? It’ll be a real vacation.” It was the least he could do after the insanity of the last few days.
“I might just do that.” She gave him a playful push. “Text me when you’re done and we’ll go somewhere for dinner.”
“Deal.” He forced himself to release her and headed for the door. The car was waiting for him, as requested, and he took a short drive parallel to the beach to Marina del Rey. Following the instructions he’d been given, Beckett made his way to a massive yacht tied to the end of one of the docks. Its name was written across the side in classy blue font. The Queen Bitch.
This is the place.
Movement on the top deck caught his attention. A thin man in a pair of swim trunks and boat shoes leaned over the railing. Judging from his tanned skin, he spent most of his time on the yacht. Silver seeded through his hair, peppering the dark brown, and though his eyes were hidden by sunglasses, Beckett knew they were blue. Elliott Bancroft, Lydia’s husband.
“Beckett King.”
“Uncle Elliott.”
The man burst out laughing. “Don’t start with that family bullshit. Come on up.”
Beckett studied the interior of the yacht as he made his way
