My first meeting with Josephine Marin yesterday had me second-guessing the decision from the instant I saw her. I knew immediately that she’d been the woman who’d stumbled into my video call with Tabitha. Who I was ashamed to admit to myself I may have also thought about again, in graphic detail, that night in the shower. I’d almost put her back on the train right then. I couldn’t even remember how to speak English properly. Me. A man who’d gotten his degree from the London School of Economics. My English was usually flawless. Evan was going to have a field day with me, since he’d witnessed the whole thing. As it was, he’d given me massive side-eye the whole drive to the boat. It was like he knew she’d knocked me for six. Her green-gray eyes seemed to shoot straight into my soul.

Something about Josephine Marin messed with the carefully ordered equilibrium I’d honed over the last few years, like a faint earth tremor along a catastrophic fault-line. The kind that made my hair stand on end. And last night when she’d tried to quit … well, I wasn’t going to even admit to myself that her tirade and the way she’d stuck up for herself had been like a blunt force awakening of my libido, so there was no point thinking about it. If it had been anyone else reacting like that I’d have been glad they quit. But for some reason I’d found that unacceptable.

As much as I’d sort of encouraged her to stay, I realized now after a long night of barely any sleep that she was far too dangerous. I should send her home. I had to send her home.

I pressed the intercom button in the master stateroom where I was using the desk while on board. “Evan? See me in my office please?”

Minutes later Evan appeared at the door.

I waved him in from the desk where I’d been trying to concentrate for the last two hours to no avail.

“I have the tender ready to take you ashore as soon as you’re ready,” he informed me.

“Bon.” I raked my hand through my hair.

“Are you ready for the meeting?” he asked.

Meeting?