want me to list the other events we have scheduled?” the concierge prompted on the other end of the line.
“Put me down for the ball,” he said. If he was going to be here, he might as well make a couple of appearances. “Otherwise, make my excuses.”
“Will Ms. Whittaker be attending with you?” the concierge asked.
He frowned, suppressing his kneejerk desire to say no.
The less time he spent with Katherine, the easier it would be for them both. But, as he watched her sleeping, it occurred to him that sometimes the easy option wasn’t the smart option.
Perhaps he should rope her into the circus too. Given her aptitude for PR stunts, she’d enjoy the press attention—and it might stop her from getting up to mischief. He didn’t trust her not to run off if left too much to her own devices.
Whatever happened, he was delivering her to Dario in New York as promised. And entertaining her in public was a lot less dangerous than entertaining her in private.
“Yeah, Ms. Whittaker will attend the ball with me.”
“Wonderful, Signore Caine, I’ll add you both to the guest lists.”
Ending his call with the concierge, he headed back on deck.
But, as he let the sea spray mist his face, it didn’t do a lot to cool the heat flowing through his veins.
He would have been quite happy never to see Katherine Whittaker again in this lifetime. And now he was going to be stuck with her for several days. He didn’t like it one bit.
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