Chapter Fourteen

He took her by the hand and brought her close to him. As he nuzzled her neck, inhaling her fragrance, her body relaxed against his. “Let’s go back to the guesthouse,” he whispered in her ear.

Augusta quickly pulled back, staring up at him. “Wow, you think this is going to be easy, don’t you?”

Bryon cocked his head in curiosity. “Yeah.”

“Tell me that you’re willing to work on this story with me.”

“Tell me that you’re willing to consider the possibility of seduction.”

Augusta burst into laughter. The spell was broken. “You’re so full of yourself!”

He sure did like seeing her smile, even if she was teasing him. “I can wear you down, darling.”

“Give me your word,” she said, trying to be as stern as she could.

“I can give you something else.”

She shook her head. “Keep ’em coming, Bryon.”

“So you’re going to make me work at this?”

Augusta appeared to think about it. He wanted to know where her head was. Was this a possibility? “Yeah.” It was like a lightbulb went off in her brain. “Yes, I want you to work at it. If you help me on this story, I will let you try to—” She used exaggerated air quotes for this. “Wear me down. Happy?”

Actually, that did make him happy. If she was open to the chance of picking up where they left off, he would find a way to help her navigate this city. They had five days to either write a Pulitzer Prize–winning piece on Bangkok’s sex trafficking culture or they could finally reunite as past lovers.

The first time her bedroom light flickered, Antonia paid no mind. She hadn’t heard the howling of the impending storm because she was listening to music with her earbuds. The long writing block she had set aside for herself was finally paying off. She was playing God to her characters and pushing them into situations that could potentially solidify their love for one another. Her intrepid reporter, Augusta, just had an accidental meet up with her old flame, Bryon, after years of not speaking to him. It’s just her luck that they must work together for a new magazine. It was her second chance at journalism after Augusta’s traumatic accident in Tunisia.

By the time her bedroom light flickered again, Antonia had sent her characters to Bangkok, the setting for her novel. When the lights finally went out, she paused her writing to save what beautiful progress she had made.

“Third day in Ireland and there’s a power failure,” she said in the darkness.

Only after removing her earbuds, did she fully understand what was going on beyond her bedroom window. It sounds like a goddamn hurricane. Antonia flung her covers aside and got out of bed. Her home was dark, but there was still some visibility. She didn’t know if there were candles in the house or even a flashlight. In the darkness, the wind sounded more menacing. It screamed like the village banshee, shaking her shutters and rattling her door.