picked her up and swung her around. ‘What are you doing here mid-week?’
‘I got a last-minute gig catering for a dinner on one of the bigger boats tonight,’ he said proudly, jerking his chin towards the sound.
‘No way!’ she gasped.
‘I’m just on my way to get the fish. Wanna hang for ten minutes? I could murder a beer.’
‘Oh.’ Her smile faded. ‘I can’t. I’m working.’ She looked over to where Emil and Linus had stopped, further ahead, looking back and watching them with curious stares.
‘Oh. I didn’t realize you were all together.’
‘No, well, I think that was the intention,’ she said under her breath.
‘Right.’ He frowned. ‘You okay, Hell? You look a little . . . wonky.’
‘Wonky?’
‘Out of sorts. Not quite right.’
She shook her head. ‘All good. Just working hard, around the bloody clock.’ She couldn’t help but groan.
‘You don’t mean that, I hope.’ He gave her a quizzical smile.
She twitched her nose. ‘Things have changed quite dramatically in the last few days,’ she sighed. ‘But it’s a long story. I’ll have to tell you properly when there’s time.’
‘At the weekend, then? Marc and Tove are coming back tomorrow night.’
‘No, I’ll be working this weekend, sadly. And the one after that. And the one after that.’
‘Hell, Bell, that’s crazy,’ Kris said sternly. ‘And it’s certainly not legal.’
‘It’s a very complicated situa—’
‘Hi.’
She jumped as Emil came back and stood beside them both.
Kris stared back at him, not looking his friendliest, although even unfriendly, he was still traffic-stoppingly handsome. From Emil’s assertive, questioning body language, an introduction appeared to be required. ‘Hi?’
‘I’m Emil. Bell’s boss.’
Bell inwardly flinched. Last weekend he’d been the best sex she’d ever had; her mystery lover. Now he was her boss.
‘Hi. Kris,’ he replied, deliberately not supplying any further information, like who he might be to her.
Both men shook hands, but there was a passive-aggressiveness to it, as though they had decided they didn’t like each other.
A brief pause followed, with Emil looking as though he was waiting for something further – for her to stop talking to Kris, perhaps? Then he said, ‘Linus and I will go ahead. We’ll see you in there.’
Had he really come over just to say that? ‘Okay. I’ll be right there.’
Kris watched him go, his eyes narrowing. ‘He seems easy-going,’ he muttered under his breath.
‘Yeah,’ she sighed.
‘Emil . . . Emil . . . He looks familiar . . .’ Kris murmured as they watched him catch up with Linus and go to pat a hand on his shoulder; but the boy ducked and pushed away on his board, out of reach again. ‘That’s not . . . oh, holy shit, that’s not Emil Von Greyers, is it?’
She blinked her reply.
His eyes widened. ‘You know who he is, right?’
‘Yes. My boss.’
‘And scion of one of the biggest industrialist families in the country.’
‘Bully for him,’ she muttered. ‘Trust me, you’d never know it from the state of his boat. Or shoes,’ she added, watching him go.
‘How come you’re working for him?’ But the answer came even as he asked the question. ‘He’s coma guy? Hanna’s ex?’
‘Technically not ex, they’re still married. But yeah – and he’s now my new boss for the rest of the summer. Long story short – he wants to bond with Linus. I’m the chaperone.’
‘I can’t believe you never said!’
‘I didn’t know myself until a few days ago. But look, it’s probably best if you don’t say anything to anyone. They’re very private.’
‘Not that private. Everyone on the island saw the helicopter arriving yesterday.’
‘Oh.’ She could already imagine what Emil’s reaction would be to that.
‘You weren’t on it, were you?’
‘God, no.’
‘Shame.’ His eyes twinkled with mischief. Kris had a taste for the finer things in life.
‘Look, I’d better go,’ she said, standing on tiptoe and kissing his cheek. ‘We’re watching the new Avengers movie.’
‘I didn’t think that was out yet?’
‘It isn’t, apparently,’ she shrugged, beginning to walk away backwards. ‘Give my love to the others. I’ll let you know when I can get away. I’d better dash.’
She hurried along the boardwalk, hopping out of the way of a cyclist and running up the steps into the dark-timbered cool of the hotel lobby. She stood at the door for a moment, trying to get her bearings. Emil had said ‘conference room’, hadn’t he?
There was a man with an extravagant blonde moustache working at the reception desk and she walked over, composing herself with a deep breath. ‘Hello. I’m with Mr Von Greyers and his son. Could you tell me where