Page 15 of The Cottage on Plum Island
He walked toward the lavish glass-fronted hotel lounge with its magnificent three-sixty-degree sea view. Harley considered turning back. Still, he encountered Dawn Vanderbilt, the screenwriter for the series, and Harriet Joyce, who used to be Brad’s executive assistant.
“Good evening, Harley,” Harriet greeted him and introduced him to Dawn. “I don’t think you’ve met Dawn.”
“No, we’ve only seen each other in passing,” Harley answered, holding his hand out to Dawn, who took it with a firm grip.
“It’s nice to meet you, Harley.” Dawn smiled. “I’ve heard so much about you from your Uncle Sam.”
“Uh-oh!” Harley joked.
“Oh, come now,” Harried laughed. “You know how proud your uncle is of you and the rest of your family on Plum Island.”
“Yes, Sam bursts with pride every time he mentions the five of you,” Dawn told Harley.
Feeling uncomfortable with the line of conversation, Harley shifted it as he noted the ladies’ evening attire. “You ladies are looking stunning,” he complimented them. “Am I to assume you’re on your way to Alex’s party?”
“Yup!” Harriet sighed resignedly. “We tried to decline, but Alex has this way of twisting your arm until you succumb to his will.”
“I was going to curl up with Caroline’s latest book in the Cobble Cove Mysteries,” Dawn admitted. “That was until I ran into Alex when I got back to the hotel after my run earlier.”
“Yeah, I also ran into Alex,” Harley said, pulling a face. “In my driveway when I got home this afternoon. He was there waiting for me and stuck around until I agreed to come to his dinner party.”
“We’d better not keep him waiting,” Dawn warned. “Or he’ll just have another dinner party and rope us all into going again.”
“Why would he do that?” Harley asked, opening the door for the ladies that led out of the hotel and to the dock.
“Because he’s Alex Blackwell, and he can!” Harriet said sarcastically.
As they stepped out into the crisp night air, the distant sounds of music, laughter, and the scent of the ocean filled the air. With the warm lights of the Summer Inn guiding them, the trio walked towardthe yacht dock, where the superyacht gently bobbed, rocked by the sway of the sea.
“If you dislike Alex, why do you attend his parties and hang out with him?” Harley asked as the lively sounds of the party on the yacht reached them when they got closer to the dock.
“Our families are friends, and that makes me obliged to.” Harriet blew out a breath. “And I’m best friends with his brother.”
Harley’s shoulders tensed at the mention of Ethan Blackwell, Alex’s reclusive brother. The man was lucky that he kept to himself and was hardly seen except on the movie set. Harley was not a fan of Ethan Blackwell, and for a good reason—the man had all but ruined his sister’s life. Harley shook off thoughts of Ethan. He’d had enough contention for one day. It was time to relax and enjoy himself with good company, food, and music. Plus, he loved Alex’s superyacht.
Harley’s eyes drifted to the boat. A sleek design and luxury marvel stretched an impressive 200 meters in length as it gently swayed on the inky waters. The exterior, painted in a deep, glossy black, perfectly complemented the yacht’s moniker, “Dark Ocean.” Soft LED lighting illuminated the sleek structure, creating a romantic atmosphere topped by a curtain of gleaming stars.
While Harley was not much of a party person, especially one packed with A-listers and hosted by a billionaire, a world he did notbelong in, as evidenced by his failed marriage to a socialite, a party on that yacht was well worth the effort.
“Do you drink champagne?” Harriet asked.
They stopped at the bottom of the gangplank, which wasn’t so much of a plank as it was a set of stairs engineered to fit the side of the boat without too much sway. As an engineer, Harley could appreciate the small things, like the stairs, and what went into designing them. He doubted that any of the people at this party even noticed the stairs. They just took it for granted that they’d be there for their convenience as they boarded the boat.
“Harley!” Harriet’s voice snapped him from his thoughts.
“Sorry,” Harley said, looking at her. “I’ll drink it, but it’s not my beverage of choice.”
“Good!” Harriet’s eyes opened and were filled with mischief.
“Harry!” Dawn rolled her eyes and shook her head as she turned to Harley. “You’re about to get roped into stealing a bottle of champagne before you leave tonight for her.”
“Can’t you just order yourself a bottle from the hotel?” Harley asked, frowning. “I believe Liam has quite an expensive collection for his guests.”
“Yes, but he doesn’t have Krug Clos d’Ambonnay.” Harriet’s pronunciation was perfect. “Alex always has buckets of it lying around.”
“Wait!” Harley’s brows rose. “Isn’t that like over three thousand dollars a bottle?”
“Uh-huh!” Dawn nodded. “Harriet is collecting bottles of it from Alex’s party.”
