Page 49 of The Cruiser
ChapterEighteen
MORGAN
Impossible odds.All working in my favor. This ravishing creature, the one sitting beside me charming everyone with her grace, is officially on the market.
Or will be soon.
“You look happy,” Vandana says, turning to me, her smile brighter than the stage lights.
“I am.”
Because I’m here with you.
Shoulder-to-shoulder in a packed ballroom, the Design Innovation Awards are about to be announced and tonight’s veal tumbles dangerously in my stomach. Or it might be due to her. She’s a vision in a royal-blue, one-shouldered ensemble, her hair flowing down her back in sexy waves.
Knowing I have a chance, a window, makes me not want to blow it. I haven’t brought up what her friend said at the bar. I’m not that much of an idiot. But it all makes sense. The missing ring, how she ransacked my thumb.
If I do things right for a change…
Applause breaks out as tonight’s MC strides onto the stage. Carlo Pasolini is the head of Strazzuza, one of Italy’s biggest shipyards, and one of the judges for the awards. We bickered long and hard over costs for Catch Me, and I threw down some harsh words when the delivery schedule got delayed. But he’s all smiles tonight with his three-piece suit and silvery hair, the anticipation of public speaking most likely washed away by copious amounts of wine.
Vandana leans in and whispers, “I am so nervous.”
I need to quiet my brain, but her hand is warm and distracting on the hard muscle of my thigh. Carlo drones on with several minutes of pomp and circumstance. Sponsors thanked, volunteers recognized. My body tenses up as he gets closer to the award announcements. I scan the room to loosen up, and my gaze lands on a shadowy figure in the dark recesses of the ballroom. I can’t quite make out the face, although something about the body registers in the back of my mind. I squint for a better look, but the figure seeps into darkness and disappears.
“We’ll start the evening with the Talent Award,” Carlo begins. “But please don’t accuse me of ageism.” A murmur of laughter drifts up from the crowd, most of them close in age to Carlo’s fifty-five. “This years’ designers are an exceptional lot, their yachts reflecting quality and craftsmanship that belies their years.”
He runs through a bio of every designer, accompanied by a slideshow of the six boats in contention. It’s always surreal to look at images of a creation that first existed only in my mind. When it’s time for the winner to be announced, Vandana gulps her remaining wine. Henri and Alessandro offer nods of encouragement.
My stomach fills with butterflies.
“And the award goes to …” Carlo milks it, clearly loving the stage time, “Morgan de Rohan-Chabot for Catch Me, Royal Morgan Yachts.”
Applause thunders so loud, I barely hear Vandana encouraging me to stand. She’s on her feet, clapping and laughing, and her joy overwhelms me. Maman likes to remind me boats will never love me back and she’s right. But I’ve worked hard and long for this peer recognition, the one thing money can’t buy.
Caught up in the excitement, I wrap Vandana in my arms, and she hugs me back. “Congratulations,” she murmurs, her breath warm in my ear.
The thrill of her breasts pressed against me, the pride in her voice. The spike of jealousy that ruined me when Stryker touched her hair… Before I think about what I’m doing, I kiss her.
I mean, really kiss her.
Under the bright lights of a ballroom with 150 people watching.
And she’s right there with me, unashamed. Cutlery clanks against glasses, and the liquored-up crowd, ready to cut loose after a formal dinner, shout woo-hoos.
“Well,” Carlo says, his rich voice popping the microphone, “we can always give you your trophy tomorrow.”
We break apart, laughing with the crowd. Vandana gives our table mates an Oops, got carried away look that is so adorable I want to kick open the door to one of the hotel rooms, drop her on the bed and eat her out until she’s boneless and begging for mercy.
Don’t accept your award with an erection.
Right.
I make my way to the stage, colleagues patting my shoulder, offering congratulations. Carlo hands off the trophy with a shine in his eyes. He knew Catch Me was special and put up with me because of it. He steps back, giving me full run of the podium.
It’s true what they say—how your mind blanks when you win an award. It’s the reason why winners unfold tiny scraps of paper with shaking hands. With the heat from the lights and the hush of an expectant crowd, I don’t know where to start. Names and companies involved all blend together. The sensation is not unlike being miles offshore, no land in sight and in need of a beacon.
With a hand on my forehead to cut the glare, I find Vandana. She waves and gives me a thumbs up.
