One Bossy Dare: Chapter 10

Imake an extra lap around the farm on the ATV the next morning, enjoying the pristine view and pleasant breeze.

Out here in the sunny hills with a pulsing green landscape handcrafted by God, it’s easy to send your worries packing.

We’ll nail the perfect drink for Brock Winthrope. Dess will take a swim before we’re on the plane home. And I won’t explode from horrifying blue balls every time Eliza goddamned Angelo invades my personal space with her sweet scent and beaming caramel eyes that make me ache to ignite her.

Surrounded by this island beauty, I can almost believe all my wishes will come true.

If only I wasn’t too aware that the picture-perfect beach behind my house is terribly deceptive.

When I start driving toward my place again, I’m frowning.

Fun time’s over. I’ll need to meet with my staff soon.

Coming closer to the side lot with the shed for ATVs, I spot a familiar face that pulls me deeper into the past.

Troy Clement, my old friend and sourcing head, in the flesh. He’s bent down and stretching, wearing an oversized Hawaiian shirt with black-and-red fern leaves and running shoes. I park the ATV and jog up to him, slapping his arm.

“Hey, you castaway asshole. It’s been forever.”

He turns, his lips curling into a shit-eating grin.

“Cole! Man, I can’t remember the last time I was here, either. It’s just as beautiful as ever—almost as sexy as Bali. You’re looking good.”

No joke. Troy has the job any sane person would ever want. I could’ve had his life of travel if fate hadn’t made me a single dad marooned in obligations and acid heartbreak.

“You’re just heading out?” I ask.

“Nope, I’m wrapping up my workout. The flight here left my legs stiff as nails.”

Could’ve fooled me. There isn’t a bead of sweat on the guy. That’s Troy, though, always put together like solid granite no matter how much he complains.

“Come with me to the meeting then. It’s a rare chance for you to show off in person instead of over a screen,” I say.

“Sounds good.” He follows me back inside the house through the huge open doors.

“Have you found your room and gotten settled in yet?”

“Yeah, but it’s no big deal. How could I ever forget this place?” He gives me an easy smile. “You’d need a pipe to the head to forget this scenery.”

He’s trying to be friendly and easygoing. Even if he’s been away from this house as long as I have, he also made the trips to our Hawaiian farms I couldn’t bear to.

It’s stupid to resent anyone for gushing over this place.

Hell, this company would be far worse off without Troy handling sourcing. He’s always ready to island hop at a moment’s notice and spend whole weeks away from civilization, hashing out production woes with local managers and sweating it out in steaming warehouses without air conditioning.

Still, I knew this was coming.

The jagged unease that keeps knifing me in the gut every time I look at him. My own traitor mind tries to claw me back to another time and place.

“Go hit the shower so you don’t stink up the room,” I joke. “We’ll reconvene in the back hall. It’s the one place big enough for everyone.”

“Sure, boss. Have you put Destiny to work yet?” he asks with a gaping smile.

I force a smile back. “Her job shadowing for a project recently was hard enough. I’m not sure there’s any use putting her to work in a place as distracting as this. Although she does seem to like Development.”

I can’t say I mind how well she’s been doing since we landed, but I need to keep an eye on her.

“I saw her while I was out walking. The little lady’s almost as tall as you.” He laughs loudly.

My smile never wavers as I nod. Something about that comment bothers me.

I just can’t pinpoint what.

Probably my damn overwound instincts overreacting. It’s hard for anyone who’s been in the military to dismiss them, even when they’re misfiring.

“She’ll be glad to see you again,” I say cordially.

“Yeah! She’s still like a niece to me, Cole,” he says, his eyes turning serious. “You kept your distance—I get it—but I’m still mighty fond of her. That’s why I kept sending you the Christmas postcards all these years. Shit, she looks so much like her mother, doesn’t she?”

No denying it.

Destiny resembles Aster more with every passing week.

That’s something to be proud of, never mind how it stings my heart. Her mother was a lovely woman, a walking magnet for every male gaze anytime she stepped into a room. Hell, objectively, she was a goddamned knockout—even when we were so strained it dampened my own attraction to her.

He’s telling me the truth, but I still have to try like hell not to glare.

“She’s fifteen years old, Troy. The kid has a lot more growing up to do.”

He looks away, scratching his neck like he needs to reconsider his next words. “Well, it’s in the face, I think. There’s a serious resemblance—a good one, man. That’s all I meant.”

I wish I could just take the compliment and move the fuck on.

Not spiral into the dark crevices my brain keeps tumbling into.

How much time has he spent staring at my daughter’s face? Every time I read a news story about some sick fuck who goes after a child, I bristle, so maybe I’m just extra-sensitive.

I know Troy. He’s nothing like that. There’s no double meaning or innuendo in his words.

Christ, I need to get a grip.

This guy was my best friend once. He truly was like a stand-in uncle for Dess during her first five years of life.

Just because we drifted apart after everything that happened is no excuse to treat him like a criminal.

“What was she doing, anyway?” I ask, raking him with a look.

“Huh?”

“You said you saw Destiny.”

“Oh, I don’t know. It was right after I got here and they were hauling my luggage in. I think she was standing on the hill, looking out at the sea…” His face falls and he turns away from me. “I hope she wasn’t looking for the spot,” he adds in a whisper.

My jaw tightens like a vise.

He means that beach. That scene.

Aster’s twisted, cold body lying on the sands with the foamy waves still washing over her. My gut twists.

Fuck, those doubts I had come crashing down like a load of bricks.

I agreed to this trip for the lucrative Winthrope deal, but am I really ready?

Here I am, ready to beat the shit out of an old friend and excellent employee for telling me that my daughter looks like my dead wife.

I’m on knife’s edge. Just waiting for something to go wrong.

Fortunately, my staff starts filing past us in the hall a minute later, putting an end to this conversation.

Seeing Eliza helps in the worst way.

My breath fucking catches in my throat the second I look at her.

She’s wearing a pale-blue island dress today. It’s strapless and looks like a towel that would only take the slightest pull to rip off her.

I’m staring, frozen and dumbstruck and well aware I shouldn’t be.

I don’t care.

Not until I sense Troy’s eyes following my gaze.

Shit.

My heart slams my rib cage. I don’t want to give him a chance to talk to her, but I also don’t want to be a raging dick to an old friend.

“Eliza, join us,” I say, waving a hand.

She comes over obediently and stops beside me with none of the usual suspicion on her face.

What? Is she going to give me less shit now that we’re on a first-name basis?

I look at Troy and gesture to her. “This is Eliza Angelo. She’s our new R & D beverage specialist.”

“Ahhh, our ace with those scorched drinks, right?”

“Campfire drinks,” she corrects softly.

“Oh, yeah. Right. Gina couldn’t say enough good stuff about you in the emails.” Troy’s eyes roam up and down her barely clad body.

I belatedly realize I’ve altered my stance.

Now, I’m partially blocking her from his view. I’m also fighting the sudden urge to drag her off after this for a talk about dress codes and company events.

Not that it’s her fault Troy keeps gawking at her like he’s having the same diabolical thoughts about that dress—like the fuck wants to strip it off and hurl it to the trade winds.

“Thank you, Mister…?” she trails off.

I realize I never introduced him.

“Clement,” I supply.

“Mr. Clement, Cole—uh—Mr. Lancaster tells me we’ll be working with the peaberry bean. I’m pretty pumped about that. I’ve never worked with anything so rare, let alone this fresh.”

Troy’s lips turn up, his smile almost predatory.

“You’re in luck, Ace. The farms here use the latest harvesting techniques. We should net just enough small-batch peaberry loads to keep up with demand for the resorts. But since this crop is more delicate, you’ll probably have to test them over and over to find just the right method for your campfire brews. I’m no expert in development, of course, just a thought.”

I hate how she looks at him.

Why is she smiling?

And what the actual fuck is wrong with me?

“I don’t mind the testing. It’s my favorite part of the job, actually, but are you sending the peaberry beans to Seattle? I don’t have a lab set up here, so—”

“You have everything you’ll need in a sunroom on the other side of the house,” I bite off, cutting in. “It’s not as large or as glamorous as your usual workplace, but with your skills, you’ll manage.”

My fists are slightly more relaxed as her smile shifts to me and her cheeks go pink.

“Oh, wow. I wasn’t expecting that. Thank you!”

Any-fucking-time.

If only a hundred scenarios weren’t stampeding through my head every time my eyes try to see through that dress.

All of them end with her under me, scratching my back as she screams, battle scars I’ll gladly show to goddamned Troy so he knows she’s off-limits.

Fuck me.

I’m breathing harder than I should.

Yeah, I’ve got to get my head screwed back on.

My phone buzzes with a calendar reminder. Meeting in ten minutes now. Thank God.

“Go sit, Eliza. We’re about to get started,” I say.

She nods and scurries inside the room to the first open seat, throwing a sunny smile over her shoulder.

Goddamn, I’m glad this gathering doesn’t require much brainpower.

Thankfully, Troy also disappears for his shower and returns a few minutes after the meeting starts.

It’s a quick gathering just to review the mission and plans for the next few days. I remind everyone we’ll be meeting virtually daily as long as we’re here for a quick check-in.

I’m well aware I can’t expect all work and no play.

This isn’t my first trip to a place rife with wonders competing for company attention. Without the regular check-ins, it’s too easy for them to get lost on the beaches, and then a vital trip costing tens of thousands of dollars becomes a missed opportunity.

I dismiss the meeting and people trickle out, talking amongst themselves loudly.

“Cole, why didn’t you tell me Ace is smoking?” Troy says when it’s just us again.

I hold his gaze, careful not to let my temper boil over, my face set like stoic steel.

“Ace is not her name. That’s probably also not an appropriate comment to the CEO about a woman you work with while we’re on a work trip.”

He does a double take and slowly winces. Before he can even hold up his hands, offering a half-assed apology, I shake my head.

“Look, I know things are more laid back in Bali. I’m not here to bust your balls or play a game of ‘gotcha,’ but my c-team back home expects a certain discipline. If it’s anything I’d frown on with them, then it isn’t fit for me to be a huge fucking hypocrite and gab about her appearance either—no matter how striking she might be.”

For a second, he’s damn near speechless.

Way to be a sanctimonious jagoff, I think to myself. Where was your concern when she had her fingers in your mouth? When she tripped into your arms and you almost fucking kissed her?

But I left the lab then. I refrained from leaving teeth marks on her lips under the banyan tree.

I do the right thing, dammit, even when it’s the very last thing I want.

Troy stares at me, his mouth parted in this awkward half smile. Then he throws his head back and chuckles.

“What?” I clip. I wasn’t expecting that.

“Oh, man, good for you. The single widower has moved on.” He slaps me hard on the shoulder. “It’s healthy, Cole. I’m happy for you. Honest to God.”

Fuck this.

I should’ve known he’d read between the lines and start flinging crap.

“I have no idea what you mean,” I growl.

“Like hell, you don’t,” Troy whispers.

I stare him up and down, wondering how he’s matured so little when he’s married to his job like I am. And how was I ever close friends with this guy?

“If I said the same thing about Lola Goodwind in finance—”

“I’d tell you to get your eyes checked.” Lola’s image comes to mind. She’s not hideous, but she’s a human chameleon. Maybe if she stuck to a single color or at least one color palette and washed her hair regularly, she’d have men up her ass. She also keeps about fifty different inspirational quotes taped around her desk, the surface littered with disposable cups from every coffee she’s drank that week. “And maybe your head, too,” I add glumly.

“See? No harm, no foul. Like I said, the big man’s moving on and I love it,” he ribs me again.

I shove his arm away, taking a step back.

“Enough.” I try to loosen my frown. “Again, I’m not trying to be a hardass, but what if Destiny hears us? She’ll be upset if we’re talking about our female staff like wagyu steaks, and I’m not having it.”

“Bullshit. You know it’s okay if you get on with your life, right? It’s been years. You’re allowed to have a pulse, Cole. I bet your daughter doesn’t expect you to be celibate for the rest of your life.”

My hand balls into a fist at my side. Mainly because he’s right, and it’s annoying as hell.

“Point is, my fuck habits—or lack thereof—aren’t on our agenda.”

He sighs, slow and hissing. “Yeah, okay. Well, we used to be more than just co-workers, remember? We were friends, Cole.”

He waits for me to respond.

When I don’t, he continues. “Why’d you shut me out, man? Really? I did everything you asked after Aster—well, after—”

“After she died. You can say it,” I spit.

He flinches. “Right. After that. I did everything you asked—including taking on this overseas role that keeps me three thousand miles from home. Not that I’m complaining, the lifestyle suits me. But still, why’d you go and freeze me out?”

I don’t have an answer.

Maybe I just didn’t feel like talking after Aster died. And Troy—sole witness to the torture I went through immediately after her death—became the last person I ever wanted to deal with.

There was no deeper reason than soul-crushing grief and single parenting. I never had time to analyze it in gritty detail.

Now, standing here in the same room with him and seeing the same old Troy, I can’t say I regret it.

“I expect reports on the availability of our peaberry stock at each farm by four,” I say coldly, taking a step toward the door and halting when I’m almost there. I look back over my shoulder. “Remember, Troy, I manage our people. You handle the farms.”

His head rolls from side to side slowly.

“I don’t get it. Did you have me fly in from Indonesia just to berate me?”

“No. I called you here because I need detailed reports. This is too important. I also thought you could add value to the daily briefings as we work on this new specialty line,” I say, all business, answering him but not addressing his real question.

I’ve had enough of his shit, and I’m out.

Before he can utter another word, I’m stomping out the door.

Brooding in paradise feels illegal, but here I fucking am.

I sit on the lawn under my favorite tree, inhaling the sea salt and sun-kissed air. The clouds overhead gather in a thick line, marching across the sky and making me think there’s a rainstorm on the way.

I welcome it.

The quick island cloudbursts usually last no more than a few minutes—just long enough to cool the skin and wipe the grease off my soul.

It’s like the weather wants to match my mood.

Destiny walks by, holding a couple yellow-green bananas freshly plucked from a tree. Anyone else would mistake her for happy.

But I know my daughter. Her shoulders are too high, her spine too straight, her body too stiff, and her smile is fake as hell.

“Destiny, what’s wrong?” I call.

Her brows lift. “What?”

“You’re traipsing along like a scorned cat.” I shrug. “Just wondering.”

“No, Dad, I’m good!” She says it with way too much enthusiasm, searching for a diversion until her eyes land on her hand. “Banana?”

“No thanks. You enjoy.”

Part of me wants to tell her it’s okay to have a hard time here. It isn’t wrong to grieve, to process, especially now that she’s a young adult and not a child who lost her mother years ago.

But another part of me says I’m better off leaving it alone and not dealing with the fallout until she signals she’s ready.

She passes by too quickly before I can say anything else.

Why shouldn’t she be guarded?

Aster’s death was a fucking shock. There were always more questions than answers surrounding it, too.

A tragic drowning. No mystery in the end result. As for everything else…

Why the hell was she out so late?

She knew how dramatically the ocean changes out here.

Did she just walk into the waves or fall off a cliff?

I’ll never understand why she just had to go to the beach alone in the dark.

Sure, Aster always kept me guessing, especially as her mental health worsened. In the beginning, her unpredictability was what drew me to her.

If my family put me up to marrying a woman of their choice, at least it was one with a spontaneous side.

Still, I wonder. Did her condition worsen, far beyond any danger her doctors noticed?

She was never suicidal or prone to self-harm.

She took risks, but not outrageous ones.

In all the time I knew her, that nighttime death swim didn’t seem like something Aster would ever do.

She was there for a reason, but why?

Did she take her own life after all?

Was it part of some fucked up energy cleaning ritual she read about?

I don’t know.

There’s a hole in her final chapter and a yawning chasm in my life.

If she took her life, that’s partly on me. I couldn’t give her a happy home.

Everything I did to support her was never enough.

The sex was fine—when it happened at all in the last few years—and once Destiny came into the picture, I liked watching them together. They had their good moments between her storms.

If only we’d had a connection beyond entangled finances and raising a daughter together.

Deep down, I think she craved that connection, the kind of love Hollywood serves up to the masses. She was a romantic at heart.

A romantic who found her way into a goddamned arranged marriage.

Her parents owned a major shipping company, making coffee cheaper to import to North America.

My parents never asked me what I loved about her—or even if we needed more time together before I agreed to a life with her.

For our families, it was business.

My folks were too excited about the soaring increase to their net worth and status, plus the prospect of new investments. Hers were no better.

At the engagement party, her father never referred to me as “son.” He called me a coffee prince.

To him, she was a bargaining chip, an expendable thing to secure more clout and money and connections.

Is that what ended her life? Being locked into this dreary disappointment she could never walk away from? Being stuck with me?

My gut churns, and I wonder for the ten thousandth time if I’m the reason why she’s gone.

Of course, the official reports said otherwise.

The local police chief settled on a tragic accident within days and never looked back. The detectives always frowned on the suicide theory, though it was possible.

My fist slaps the ground next to me so hard it vibrates up my arm.

Fuck it.

Waiting around for the first heavy beads of rain to slap my neck isn’t doing me any favors.

The rain thickens, but I’m back inside the house before it starts pouring.

With everyone in their rooms or out sightseeing, it’s eerily quiet.

I gaze around the family room, full of priceless antiques and old mementos Aster bought on this trip or that over a decade ago.

I never asked the staff to change anything during our absence.

Maybe that’s the problem.

Everything’s left in place like a depressing time capsule. Aster’s presence is still alive, frozen in her bygone style.

My heart sinks and I huff out a disgusted snort.

Even in paradise with unlimited money, I couldn’t keep her happy.

Our marriage was atrociously shallow.

We looked good together. We made people jealous.

I brought a beautiful woman who was a billionaire in her own right to every business function I had, and we had a passable physical connection.

It just never went further.

It was never love.

It was never what she wanted—and then her life ended.

As horribly as it is, I’ll always be grateful for one thing.

Destiny.

Whenever anyone asks—which they didn’t until Troy stuck his nose in things—she’s also my excuse. I’ve never dated again because it would be hard on my daughter.

No matter how she’d deny it, it’s true. Imagine seeing your mother’s body washed up on the beach and then watching your father start a new life.

I could never protect my family and keep it whole.

I couldn’t give Aster the life she craved.

Who the fuck knows if I could ever make any woman truly happy.

Especially women who are already intimately involved in my work life and up in my face. An unworkable polar opposite, regardless of whether or not she aches for me like I do for her.

“Cole?”

Katelyn’s voice startles me. I whip around, nearly knocking a tall antique vase off a mantle as I do. I catch the bastard thing—just in time—and place it back where it belongs.

“Sorry. I was just—fuck,” I stammer, thrown off my game.

She nods, offering a knowing smile.

“This is the first time you’ve been back here, isn’t it?”

I’m still rattled, though I’m not sure it’s visible to anyone but me.

I hope it isn’t.

I sit down on the couch, safely away from any priceless artifacts.

“You know it is,” I mutter.

“I heard Destiny doesn’t want to go to the beach,” she says quietly. “Between a teenager who loves sea creatures so much she avoids the ocean, and you staring into the void, I put two and two together. If this is hard, Mr. Lancaster…it’s okay. Don’t feel embarrassed.” She smiles sadly. “I have to let you know, I was in the hall and overheard you and Troy talking…”

I bury my face in my hands with a defeated sigh.

What the hell else can go wrong today?

“I told him to cut the crap. He shouldn’t be talking about employees the way he—”

“Honestly? I think he was right. Not the unprofessional guy talk, but the way he called you out.” She clears her throat. “I saw you coming up the hill yesterday with Eliza. You looked like you were having fun with her. That’s good.”

“Not good, Kate. She’s an employee and the key to why we’re here,” I snap. It’s automatic.

Thankfully, she’s had well over a decade of dealing with me.

“Oh, I agree. But Seattle is full of beautiful women. It’s been ten years and you haven’t found anyone. You can’t let optics scare you away from a good thing. If it’s meant to be, then—”

“I’m not having this conversation,” I growl, tugging at my collar.

She’s quiet, staring, and I hate that it came out so acrid.

“With all due respect, I taught your daughter how to wear a tampon. I’m not sure this is the most awkward conversation we’ve ever had.”

My eyes flick to the wood ceiling and back again as I let out a rolling sigh.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know—”

“I did.” She smiles. “And if anything ever happens to Patrick, I expect you to pick up the slack with my boys.”

I nod sincerely.

“Fair enough.” That sobers me up fast. “I’m a decent father, just a shitty husband. And Aster—maybe she saw death as her only way out of the misery.”

Katelyn stares at me, her eyes growing wide.

I know I’m in a mood, far past the point where I should shut my damn yap.

If only I could take it back.

“Mr. Lancaster?” She waits for me to look at her, and I do with another sigh. “You can’t be responsible for Aster’s actions. What happened was an accident based on every report I ever saw. You know that, right?”

“Accident or not, our marriage was a dumpster fire. All thanks to me,” I say.

This conversation is also flaming trash. I’m about to stalk off when she speaks again.

“My sister’s first husband sucked—definitely not like you. She divorced his butt, took his money and his kids, and moved to L.A. She works for the Mouse now, and she and the kids get season passes to Disneyland every year. She chose how she responded to her situation. I know it wasn’t the same for you, but if the reports were wrong…then Aster made that choice.” She throws up a hand. “Not that I’m saying she did! If the cops said it was an accident, I bet they’re right.”

I turn my head. “Who the fuck knows. It doesn’t matter.”

When I look again, Kate’s staring at me.

“Is there something else?” I ask over my shoulder, annoyed.

She grimaces. “I need to ask you a question, but I’m not sure how without offending you.”

“Ask.” I’ve had enough drama today.

“Do you think maybe your inability to let go of this is why Destiny won’t go to the beach?”

Deafening silence.

“Are you saying Destiny can’t move on until I do?” I look at her sharply.

She swallows. “I don’t know. I’m no shrink, but I do know you’re the most important person in her life. If you have any lingering doubts, it’s likely she’s picking up on them. Kids are intuitive, and Destiny is smart as a whip. She deserves to be happy.”

“I know.” The words feel like solid lead.

“You deserve to be happy, too, boss.”

“Irrelevant. And I won’t be—not until I know what happened that night,” I say, shocking myself.

I didn’t realize that was even what I wanted until now.

“You’re a billionaire. You’re connected to every high and mighty moron in America,” she points out. “So, if you feel like you need answers for closure, go get them. This is the time and place. I guess I don’t understand, though… The police already gave you one set of answers you didn’t like.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Are you sure you need more answers? Or do you just need to accept ones you already have?”

I mull that over for a minute, stroking my beard.

Could that be the problem?

If the police just up and told me Aster killed herself, or they were looking for her murderer, would I have believed it?

Yeah, I would have.

I might’ve been a rotten husband, but I knew her well enough to know she didn’t just decide to go for a dip in the dead of night.

“I need more,” I say, more confident of that now than I was before she asked.

“If you insist. And speaking of chasing things down, I think your R & D girl is alone in her makeshift lab…”

I shake my head angrily. “For the last time, she’s nothing and you’re not goddamned cupid.”

She huffs out a breath. “O-kay. Stay here and mope then—”

“I’m not moping,” I throw back.

“Fine. Brood away, Mr. Heathcliff. I have to go fetch your reports for the next meeting, or you’ll make me look worse than I already do for getting personal.”

I laugh bitterly. “Isn’t it the other way around?”

“I’ve always known who the real CEO was.” She starts speed walking toward the wing with the guest rooms.

“Kate?” I call.

“Yeah?” She faces me, blinking slowly.

“Destiny and I would’ve been lost years ago without your help. You’ve done enough for us. Stop worrying, and leave the rest to me.”

“I won’t,” she says sharply. “And bossman, don’t you know? I won’t stop saying you’re a good man who deserves to smile until you actually believe it.”

Poor Katelyn.

She’s going to be waiting until hell freezes over.