Chapter 88: Sloane Bennett Sipped Coconut Water Through a Straw

Sloane Bennett sipped coconut water through a straw, mimicking Clara Whitmore's pose behind her sunglasses. A lazy smile played on her lips.

Clara stretched her long legs, crossing them at the ankles. "I thought you had a date today?"

"Don't remind me." Sloane wrinkled her nose in distaste. "That gym trainer looked ripped but couldn't even open a bottle cap. My puppy boy does better."

"Alex, was it?"

"Ancient history." Sloane's eyes sparkled. "The new one plays piano, has dimples when he smiles, and—" she lowered her voice conspiratorially, "his tiramisu beats award-winning restaurants."

Clara chuckled.

"What about you?" Sloane studied her through tinted lenses. "Still not dating?"

Clara gazed at the turquoise horizon. "Not interested."

"Fair." Sloane stretched like a cat. "Men would only slow down your Kepler Prize." She suddenly perked up. "Oh! A half-blood hottie at ten o'clock. Gotta shoot my shot!"

Clara raised her coconut in salute. "Play safe."

* * *

Grant Holloway stood before floor-to-ceiling windows, fingertips tapping glass. "Confirmed?"

His assistant dabbed his forehead. "Verified. Miss Whitmore's in Harbor Cay."

"Not another decoy by Connor Hayes?"

"We checked immigration records. Solid lead."

Grant's expression darkened. Last time Connor's misdirection sent him chasing ghosts in Iceland.

"Book the earliest flight."

The assistant scrambled. "Seven AM tomorrow."

"Do it."

"Yes, Mr. Holloway." The assistant exhaled in relief. "Arrangements underway."

As the office door shut, whispers erupted outside.

"Mr. Miles, you look pale!"

Miles wiped his brow. "Nightmare. Need tickets for tomorrow's seven AM Harbor Cay flight. Gotta pick up my kid after."

The new assistant beamed. "I'll handle it!"

"Don't screw up," Miles cautioned.

"Relax!" She waved him off. "Just ticketing..."

Alone, she noticed two default passengers in the booking system. Her call to Miles went unanswered.

She chewed her lip. Mr. Holloway's sudden Harbor Cay trip... must be a getaway with Miss Lawson.

With decisive clicks, she selected both names.

Executives always travel with secretaries. Or girlfriends. Standard procedure.