Page 26 of The Dare

“Is that what she told you to tell me?” I ask, not trying to hide my annoyance anymore.

Mom makes a face. “Suzanna didn’ttell meto say anything,” she snaps, and I hush her with my hands, whispering for her to keep her voice down.

If we were anywhere else and starting to argue like this, one of us would just walk away, but I’m not budging from my spot with Michael.

And it’s pretty clear that my mom isn’t gonna budge either.

“What do you want me to do mom?” I ask. “Put everyone else first as usual, just so you don’t feel bad?” I snap back at her.

I forgot how mad my mom makes me feel sometimes. We haven’t even had a full day together and already I feel like she’s on my case.

Like she can’t stand to see me happy, almost as much as all she wants is to see me happy.

I don’t get it.

Right when I’m about to say something horrible, something I might regret, about her and Suze getting so close since I’ve been gone, the suite door behind me swings open.

Michael’s face pops out into the corridor as he stoops a little, excusing himself for interrupting.

“I was just thinking,” he says in a deep, confidential tone as he looks to me first and then my mom. “About dinner. Maybe we can all have dinner together, your friend too, Natasha. My treat.”

It sounds more like an instruction than a request, which I love.

I love it when Michael just says something and makes it happen. Lays down the law, just like he did with Suzanna’s dare.

He totally just walked up and owned it. Owned me.

The same with dinner now. He’s made a decision and it’s kinda impossible to say no to such a handsome and huge man like Michael.

I get the strong impression he gets his way a lot, and not by being pushy about it.

He just has that commanding presence.

I look up at him, feeling my head nod, not even minding the idea of spending dinner with mom and Suzanna, as long as Michael’s gonna be there.

“I uh… I really don’t know, Mr. uh... Sorry, what was your name?” Mom stammers, wanting his full name now.

I cringe internally, but Michael doesn’t skip a beat.

“Stapleton. Michael Stapleton. But please call me Michael,” he says casually.

“Natasha mentioned you’re getting off before she will. You’ll have plenty of time for dinner though,” he adds, noting my mom’s still wavering and uncertain look.

“Or… If you’d rather it was just you three, I understand,” Michael says with equal confidence, making my stomach lurch in a near panic.

No dinner with Michael? I don’t think so.

“We’d love to. Wouldn’t we, Mom?” I ask, making sure she catches my eye.

Before we know it, it’s all settled.

“I can meet you in the dining car in say, twenty minutes?” Michael asks my mom, who’s come around quickly to his way of thinking.

She only makes a weird humming sound and nods her head as Michael lets us know he’ll call the steward and have a table made up for all of us.

Chapter Eight

Michael