I thought Tabs had said we were going to their home first. Clearly, we were headed straight to the boat. “Um. I thought we were going to your home first.” God, I thought I’d have a day to at least get my nerve up to get on a boat. Great.

“The plans changed,” he said.

There was another long silence, and I was suddenly swamped with a sense of homesickness.

My eyes stung, and I gritted my teeth. I was damned if this frozen ice prince would make me cry on my first day. Tiredness and jet lag, that’s all it was. Plus, I hadn’t really processed the fact my career had just evaporated.

So we all sat quietly. Uncomfortably.

Dauphine pulled out a tablet, and my blinks became longer. The car ride was smooth and lulling. The air was cool. The stress of the last few days caught up with me, and despite my nap in the train, I closed my eyes.

The motion of the car woke me. After an hour or so, we’d left the highway and meandered down toward the coast. Again, the arresting sight of the Mediterranean Sea caused me to temporarily hold my breath when I saw it. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. What a view to wake up to.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Dauphine asked from beside me.

Turning to her with surprise, I saw nothing but a new curiosity on her face. “No,” I whispered and shook my head.

She frowned. “Why not?”

“Uh—”

Blue eyes flashed across the rearview mirror. My boss was listening. If there was any chance my new boss had seen my initial reaction to him, it might be a good thing to casually mention I was off the market. Oh, how I wished I could say yes. Maybe I should make one up? Lying about having a boyfriend was just a boundary. Women did it all the time. I had girlfriends who’d put a ring on their wedding finger for girls night out so as not to be harassed in some of the clubs we liked to go to. I called a frantic emergency meeting in my head. Use a real ex? That cheating stockbroker I dated a year ago? Who else?

Crap. The moment had passed.

“But have you had a boyfriend?”

“Yes. Of course.”

Dauphine clapped. “He’s American?”

I nodded.

“What does he do, this American boyfriend? Is he a movie star?”

A laugh burst out of me. Did all foreigners only think of movie stars when they thought of America? “No. He was a financial journalist.” Okay, so that was the ex, ex-boyfriend’s job. A stockbroker who wrote opinion editorials. Who’d dumped me when he realized I was never going to talk about my stepfather.

“What is this, Finansh …?” she tried to pronounce with a frown.

“Financial journalist. I’m afraid you might think it’s quite boring.”

“What is the word boring?”