Sasha clenched her arms around her middle, trying to keep her emotions dormant. But they swirled inside her like a whirlpool, becoming more violent the longer she stayed silent.
She did not need the advice of a freaking billionaire. He had no idea what running The Straw was like—he’d never even been to her drink stand before. He probably didn’t even know what it was like to live in a house smaller than ten thousand square feet.
no ideaThe storm brewed, billowed, grew, groaned inside her.
“Look,” he said, and that broke her composure.
“No, you look.” She turned toward him, very aware that she stood only a few feet away from her employees, and only a few inches away from other people. She grabbed onto his forearm and towed him further down the beach. They left behind the lights of The St
