She shrugged. “Then neither is the reason I rejected the offer.”
Why does she have to be so difficult? “Look, Kai. I’ve invested everything in this show. Everything.” My stare burned through hers, begging her to listen. “Good talent is rare, but you’ve got something special.”
“So does everyone else who auditioned.”
“Not like you. You were the best one in that room, by a long shot. Just think about the opportunity. You get free food and board on top of a salary. And entertainment staff gets free run of the ship, which means fine dining, spa treatments, land excursions, dance clubs… You name it.”
“Ha,” she said, faking a laugh. “You think fancy amenities are going to sway me?” She shook her head. “You don’t know me at all, Sebastian.”
“Yeah, well, you’re not really giving me a chance.” I squeezed my eyes shut then faced her again. “If you want to know the truth, I think you’re a prissy little thing in tights who freaks out over a little water damage. But I need you on that stage.”
“Why me? Tell me why you need me, and I’ll tell you why I can’t get on that ship.”
I sucked in a deep breath, completely caught off guard. She was relentless. “Kai, I don’t want to get into it.”
She chuckled. “Fine. Because I don’t want to get into it either.”
“Damn it,” I said under my breath. Then I sighed. “If you don’t accept the role, then Dirk is going to offer it to someone else… and I just don’t trust him. I’ve worked too damn hard on this production to give it all up to someone who will run it into the ground.”
She assessed me for a few seconds as if weighing the truth of my words. “I’m sorry, I really am. I get it. And I wish I could help.”
“Why can’t you?”
By the way her entire body tensed, I knew her response might be more complicated than I’d originally thought.
“I just don’t think I’m right for the part.” She looked at me, her eyes bleeding a sadness that didn’t belong on her. She was fucking brilliant, and she didn’t even believe it. That took all the fun out of pissing her off.
“But you are. The stage can be daunting, I know, but you need to start somewhere.”
She glared. “I’m not afraid of the stage. I’ve done a Broadway show before.”
I bit my lip. “Playing Dancer Number Two in a high-school production of Mary Poppins doesn’t count, sweetheart.” When her jaw dropped, I chuckled. “I might have had a look at your portfolio.”
Disgust slipped past her lips. “Well, that explains how you found my apartment. You know way too much about me.”
“That’s my job.”
“Is it? I thought you were just the piano man.”
Rage bubbled deep in my chest. Kai needed to watch herself. “I’m the creator, co-executive, songwriter, lead singer, and producer of a Broadway musical. Your presumptions are insulting.”
She threw me a glare. “What makes you think I care an iota if I insulted you?” She huffed and shook her head. “Look. I’ve been dancing professionally for six years. If I take this job, then it’s like… switching majors in college. I’d be starting from the bottom. I just don’t know if that’s the direction I want to take my career.”
I didn’t know if I believed her rejection had to do with her lack of confidence or fear of future opportunities. Something wasn’t adding up.
“What if I could get you more money?”
She seemed to consider that for a moment but then shook her head. “It’s not about the money.” She sighed, and when I looked at her again, something resembling fear showed in her eyes. “I just—”
A tiny ball of hope formed in my chest as I waited for her to open up. Surely, I could do something to help.
“I don’t do boats.”
My eyes searched hers, waiting for her to offer more. That was it? She didn’t do boats? When nothing else came, I frowned. “You don’t like them? You get seasick? You can’t swim?” I paused, hoping she’d pass me a clue. “C’mon, Kai. Help me out here.”
She sighed and shifted on her stool, avoiding my stare. “No, nothing like that. My dad died in a… sailing incident. I was eight, and… I haven’t been on the water since.”
My chest ached. Her explanation was vague, and I felt her silence was protecting more of her story. “I’m so sorry.” What else could I say? I had more questions, but I didn’t feel right asking them.
She offered a small smile. “Not as sorry as I was, growing up in Hawaii… when my friends went boating around the island and I stayed back alone on the shore. I missed out on so much, and I hate that I’m going to miss out on this.”
“You don’t have to,” I said.
“Sebastian—”
“Kai,” I interrupted. “I understand why you wouldn’t want to get back on a small boat, but a cruise ship? You know they’re massive, yeah? It’s not the same.” For the first time since I’d met her, I was making a conscious effort to not be a dick. Maybe whatever fear she’d been living with was something she could work through.
She slid her gaze to mine and tilted her head. “You can’t fix this, Sebastian.”
“Let me try.”
“There’s no use. Just the thought of being out there in the middle of the ocean after what happened to my father… It’s too much.”
I let out a breath, feeling a charge of energy shaking my nerves. “What if you saw someone?”
“Like a therapist?” She shook her head and laughed. “It’s been twenty years. Not even therapy could save me. It’s not like I have unresolved feelings about my dad’s death. He lived a beautiful life and died in the arms of what he loved most. But what the ocean meant to my father and what it means to me now are two completely different things. To him, the ocean was life. To me… it’s death. And I can’t go back to the place where he drowned.” Moisture had formed in her eyes, and I hated myself for making her talk about this. “I just can’t.”
She stood before even getting her drink and stepped away from the bar. “Besides. I just fired my agent, and I refuse to hire her back. I’d need new representation.”
Her last comment told me she wasn’t slamming the door to this for good. “Then represent yourself.”
She looked like she was considering my suggestion.
I took that as a good sign and jumped back in. “You’ll have an updated contract sent over in an hour.”
She deflated a little, her shoulders folding in and her back rounding slightly. “I should head back.”
I swiveled in my stool, desperation knotting my gut. “Just think about it, Kai. You’ve got forty-eight hours. Take every minute.”
Chapter 7
Kai
It always seemed like fate made the hard decisions for me. Like the time I was fourteen years old and was told with acidic certainty by my ballet instructor that I would never be a prima ballerina. I was just young enough to listen, so I focused on modern dance instead. Turned out that I loved it a million times more than I had ever loved ballet.