Tide Changer

Thirty-three

Soft notes of jazz drifted from the built-in speakers at the hotel bar. Other than the bartender, Rys was the only person there, sitting on a black leather couch with his open laptop and a glass of whiskey on the rocks on the small table in front of him.

I walked a few steps until I stood next to it. "Hi."

Rys looked up from his computer. Relief danced across his chiseled features as if there was a possibility I wouldn't turn up here after I texted him to ask where he was barely half an hour ago.

He rose to his feet and nodded toward the bar. "Would you like a drink?"

"I'll have the same as you," I said, sitting.

Rys returned with a glass of whiskey. I ran my eyes over his face while he made himself comfortable beside me. Although he looked more relaxed, tension lingered in his expression. I trailed my fingertips over his jaw, taking my time to relish in the feeling of his skin. A few days ago, I didn't think I'd touch him, speak with him, or see him again. But he was here, and we had a chance to make it work.

"Are you okay?" I asked. "How's your dad?"

"Recovering." Rys leaned into my palm. "The surgery was a success. They're going to run some tests, but he might not need additional treatment."

"That's amazing news."

"It is." He picked up his drink and took a sip.

After staring at his lips for too long, I reached for my glass. Liquid courage glided down my throat, helping me form words. "I wanted to thank you."

Rys gave me a half-smile. "For what?"

"The white envelope. It was you, right?"

He rested the tumbler on his knee and rubbed circles on the glass with his thumb. "Yes, but I didn't do it for your parents. I still think depriving you of your trust was the worst decision they could've made, but I got some people to look into the Colemans' finances. If your father merged his company with theirs, his business would suffer, and in the future, those resorts will be yours."

"I didn't know your father knew Brock's well enough to invite him to the party." I curled my palms around my cold tumbler.

"Roger Coleman isn't my father's friend. More like an acquaintance he's seen maybe twice in his life. But my father is influential enough for people like the Colemans to try and kiss his ass. It just backfired for them this time, and I was lucky to see my father's invitation when I was at his office."

"I'm glad you turned up at La Delicia."

Rys set his drink on the table and tugged at my hand. "I was going to talk to you, anyway. Now come here. I haven't held you in days."

I snuggled into his side, closing my eyes. "It feels so much longer than that."

"It does. And we have a lot to discuss."

"Yeah." I inched away, although Rys kept his arm around my waist. "I'm going to Milan soon."

His lips spread into a grin. "You got a grant?"

"No. I mean, I don't know. I'm waiting for the school to reply. But I might have a job."

I told him about the portfolio, Kaia's help, and Paolo's call. Rys caressed my arm while I spoke, only asking a few questions.

"I have a plan B in case they don't accept me," I said when he fell quiet after my last response. "I'd work, save, and sell jewelry meanwhile. Then I'd try to get another grant or pay for my studies."

"Did you tell your parents any of this?"

"Not yet. It seemed like too much for one day. Dad was upset after he read the papers you gave him, and Mom sort of felt guilty for pushing me toward Brock. I wish she'd taken my side way sooner."