The Importance of Being Alice Read Online Free PDF Page B

his comments, he had probably snuck in thinking it was empty and thus available to be used as his personal office.
    He had one of those rich British accents that made me think of Stephen Fry at his most pompous, and although he certainly wasn’t hard at all on the eyes, he was most definitely not what I wanted in the form of cabin accoutrements. “You can blame the ‘um’ on jet lag. I’ve been awake for over twenty-four hours, and frankly, I don’t give a damn whether or not you wish to bedisturbed. You’re in my cabin, and I would appreciate you writing your book elsewhere.”
    â€œ
Your
cabin?” he said, frowning even more.
    I went out to the hallway and pulled my suitcase in, noticing then that there were two small bags stacked against the wall next to one of the two twin beds that dominated the small room.
    â€œI beg to differ,” the man said, observing me with what might have been alarm. “This is my cabin.”
    I held up my key. “Beta deck, room four. That’s what it says on the door, and it’s where Tiffany left me, so would you please mind finding yourself another place to write?”
    He stood up slowly, his eyes—which I noticed were a particularly clear gray—roaming over me in a speculative, wholly impersonal way. I will admit that the woman in me was a bit annoyed about that. I might not be seeking male attention or appreciation, but dammit, he didn’t have to look me over like I was a particularly uninspiring view. “Your name wouldn’t happen to be Anise, would it?”
    â€œAlice,” I corrected. “Who are you?”
    He started to answer, checked himself, then said hesitantly, “Elliott Ainslie.” I was about to tell him that I was tired and would appreciate him vamoosing when he added, “You’re Patrick’s ex.”
    A chill ran down my back, curled around my side, and settled in my stomach with a sick feeling. “You know Patrick?”
    He nodded. “We were at school together. It would appear that there has been a gross miscommunication. Patrick gave me his travel tickets saying that his ex-girlfriend had decided not to take the trip, and since he had more important things to do, he’d let me have his cabin.”
    â€œOur cabin,” I said, righteously indignant about many things, but mostly that Patrick felt so little about a vacation that I had long anticipated that he had tossed it away on a pal. “We went in halfsies on the cabin.”
    â€œI see. No doubt you will wish to take that matter up with Patrick. I’m sure he will see the justice in having to reimburse you for the cost of a different cabin.”
    â€œDifferent cabin?” I plopped down on one of the beds, the one nearest the tiny bathroom. “I
have
a cabin. There’s no reason for me to get another one.”
    â€œBut I am already in possession of this one—”
    â€œYeah, and you didn’t pay for it, did you? You said Patrick gave you the tickets. Well, I
did
pay, a lot of money, four grand to be exact, so if anyone is finding a new cabin, it’s you, not me.”
    Oh, he didn’t like that. “Now, see here, Miss . . . Miss . . .”
    â€œAlice Wood.”
    â€œSee here, Miss Wood.” He strode the three steps over to where I sat like a limp bit of broccoli on the bed. “I recognize that the situation is not of your making—although Patrick was quite adamant that you had made clear your intention to not take the trip as planned—but neither is it of mine, and since I was in possession of the cabin first, it only makes sense for you to be the one to relocate. You haven’t even unpacked.”
    I lay down on the bed, wincing a little at both the mattress’s lumpiness and the fact that it was inclined at a slight angle. “My cabin. I paid for it, I’m staying. Besides, if you were a gentleman, you’d offer to find