Chapter Nine
“Thanks for bringing me here. You’re the best,” Emma said, and gave him a kiss on his cheek.
Nico nodded. Most people on the boat contemplated the cute dolphins swimming and doing tricks he imagined they were already used to doing for tourists. He’d taken that sightseeing trip once before, when he was five or six, but the memory had been buried deep in his brain. Earlier that morning, when Emma mentioned making arrangements with the hotel’s concierge for the little adventure, he’d found himself not only agreeing, but deciding to go with her, wanting to spend more time with her. Looking forward to it, actually.
And now she kissed his cheek like they were on a damn date.
This isn’t a date. He knew the difference, because all she wanted from this month with him, besides sex, was getting her fiancé back. A man who supposedly would give her all she needed. Nico snorted. Simon knew jack about her needs. No one knew but him.
Willing the intrusive thought away, he focused on the stunning ocean.
Nostalgia flooded his chest, and he tugged at the collar of his polo shirt. The image of his beautiful mother, explaining about sea life, invaded his mind. Marco had been a toddler, so he’d stayed behind with the nanny. His mother had already started her health scares, which was why she’d taken him without telling anyone—he’d found her wanting to spend alone time with him sweet and caring.
Now it just seemed unsafe to let someone with unpredictable mood swings bring a child on a boat. Unsupervised. What if he got lost, like that cute little boy from the beach? I’ve been lost. His wanting to buy the house was a good step to find himself again.
“Male dolphins usually mate with multiple females every year, but females only mate every two to three years.” The voice of the tour guide yanked him from his reverie.
Emma snorted, then tapped his chest. “Of course they do,” she said, with a trace of accusation in her voice. “Males get away with too much even in the sea.”
“Hey, don’t look at me. You’re not a dolphin. You’re a real-life mermaid who can mate as often as you want.” A mermaid who didn’t need to get married and have kids so soon in life. Didn’t she know she had a lot of time ahead of her? He scratched his head. Not his business, but the idea still nagged at him, inconvenient like a fly buzzing over fresh food.
As a friend, he’d hate for her to go through all this to get divorced in two years. Simon wasn’t the man for her—no matter how much she wanted to believe it.
He curled his fingers into a ball.
One of the dolphins made a whistling sound, and the tourists giggled and talked to one another. Emma chuckled and snapped several pictures with her cell phone. “This rocks. They’re so cute. Can’t we take them with us?”
He fixed his sunglasses. “Nope.”
She stuck out her tongue at him. “You’re no fun, Nico Giordano. No fun at all.”
“I thought I was the best a few minutes ago.”
“The best at avoiding attachment. Even with these innocent creatures. That’s what I meant,” she said playfully.
“Ah.”
She excused herself and strolled to the other side of the boat, where several of the guests stood in hopes of taking better shots. He stood, watching her go. What would their relationship be like once their time together ended? An annoying shiver zapped down his spine, and he squared his shoulders.
She’d go back to being Zaine’s little sister. And he’d go back to his life. Finito.
What if she doesn’t patch things with her ex? She and Nico shared a palpable chemistry, and she was someone he surprisingly enjoyed spending time with out of the bedroom. He thrust his hand into his hair. Nah. She deserved more, and he’d be a bastard for not giving it to her. Hell, Zaine would hate him—as open-minded as he was, she was his sister, and he didn’t want her to be miserable because of an older bastard like Nico. A man with baggage.
“American?” said an older man, tapping the railing of the boat. He wore a white shirt and gray khakis, his accent hinting at a Boston accent.
“Italian, but live in Los Angeles.”
The man coughed. “Nice. Honeymooning?” he said, pointing in the direction she’d gone. Maybe he’d watched them interact, and Nico hadn’t paid attention to his surroundings.
“Me?” He waved it off, chuckling at the irony. He almost told the truth, which would certainly shock the elderly stranger. Why would he? He hadn’t shared about the deal even to Marco. He’d never betray Emma’s trust, and he doubted she’d want anyone to know. “No.”
The man touched his balding head, then sized him up. “A lot of people honeymoon in this area. I’m giving myself a world tour of my favorite places while I still can.”
“Sounds like a great way to enjoy retirement.”
The man coughed again, and Nico wondered if he had a cold or if it was a more serious illness. “It’s the only way I’ve got. Seventy-five years old, never married. No kids or grandkids to call me on the weekends.”
A lump lodged in Nico’s throat. “Friends?”
“Yeah. At my age, a few of them already died.”
Discomfort kept Nico from talking. What did he have to say? To most people, traveling the world didn’t come across as a burden—no matter what their age. Having a spouse or grandchildren didn’t equal happiness. Hell, he knew enough people who had fulfilling lives without marriage and kids.
Then why did the man look at the ocean with such regret washing over his expression? He squinted his gray eyes, a few creases forming in his forehead. Nico didn’t know if he wanted to give him a friendly tap on his shoulder or leave him the hell alone.
“I’ve seen how you look at your girlfriend,” the man said, removing his glasses and cleaning them with an old-fashioned linen handkerchief from his pocket. “While everyone was watching the dolphins, you kept your attention on her.”
“She’s pretty,” he said, deciding to downplay the man’s invasive remarks. Maybe he didn’t have a lot of friends and just spoke whatever was on his mind with whoever happened to be close. Pretty? The word didn’t even begin to describe Emma, but he refused to sound like a smitten fool in front of a complete stranger.
“Pretty, huh?” The man gave him a knowing smile, then drummed his fingers on the railing one more time, as if he’d come to a realization. “All right. Good luck with everything,” he said, before walking away.
“I’m overwhelmed,” Emma said, glancing at the many options of adult entertainment toys. “I mean, I’ve been to bachelorette parties, but this place takes it to a whole new level,” she said, circling her index finger in the air.
He’d taken her to the store, because if she really wanted anal sex at some point, they needed to be prepared—it’s not like the hotel convenience store sold that type of stuff. The next day, they’d finally meet Desmorais for lunch when hopefully he’d plead his case and make an offer.
Colorful aisles of toys and sex enhancement devices for men and women crowded the store, where only a handful of people browsed. He’d kept Emma by his side at all times, ready to punch the first bastard who said anything inappropriate to her. Where did this possessiveness come from?
From being Zaine’s sister, he told himself. Of course, it made complete sense.
She carried a small basket, where they’d added a couple of tubes of lube. They neared the anal devices aisle, and he grabbed a probe from the shelf, studying the box.
“What’s that?” she asked, inching closer.
“A little something for fun.”
She grabbed the box from him, her eyes reaching her hairline. An adorable wave of red stained her cheeks. “Oh. This is for my—”
“Yes.”
“I’ll trust the connoisseur.” She tossed it into the basket, and they strolled side by side. Ever since she’d confessed wanting to try back entrance, the fantasy had assailed him more than a few times. The idea of having her on all fours, and him thrusting into her tight hole, prickled the hairs on the back of his neck. “Tell me, what do women do when you blow them off? Do they buy an emotional support peacock or go to intensive therapy?”
“What do you mean?”
She picked a double vibrator from the shelf, frowned at it, then put it back where it belonged. “Well, let’s be honest. You’re a billionaire, you look hot as sin, and you screw like a pro. So despite all your spiel about not wanting anything serious, don’t any of them ever think they’re the mighty one who will break those carefully built walls?”
“Usually not.”
She angled closer. “When did you blow off the last victim? Come on, give me something. You’ll pop my ass cherry. I need some dirt on you for fun.”
He rubbed his forehead, wishing he could run. She folded her arms, the amusement in her close-lipped smile reaching her eyes.
He sighed. “You’re a pain in the ass.”
“That’s what I’ll be saying about you later.” She winked. “What was her name?”
“Linda. A lawyer,” he said, annoyed. Linda’s accomplished firm had represented his interests for a few years, and her experience with him two years prior had taught him never to mix business with pleasure.
“And?” She tilted her head to the side, and the playfulness faded from her expression. She unfolded her arms, staring at him with intent, probably vying for more information. He’d never told anyone but Zaine about dating Linda—not even Marco. He hadn’t wanted his brother to tease him about it or make a big deal, especially since she worked for their company.
“We were together for a few months, but then she wanted to move in with me. At first it sounded practical, so I considered. But then in the end, I wasn’t ready to give her what she ultimately wanted,” he said, using a casual tone on purpose. His gut clenched, memories from the short time frame when he’d considered changing his ways tugging at him.
She’d been quick to ask him for an emotional damage financial compensation, since she could no longer work for him after the breakup. He’d transferred a small fortune to her bank account and had made her sign a confidentiality agreement to make sure their affair wouldn’t bite him in the butt later. If you can’t trust your own lawyer, who can you trust? “It wasn’t a love story, Emma. She got reimbursed because she didn’t want to work for me anymore.”
“Can you blame her? It’s hard to be around the person you want but can’t have.”
“Well, I paid the price.”
“Did you like her? Even a little bit?”
He pursed his lips, thinking of an answer. He’d liked her a lot and loved having her in his life while they were happy and agreeable. “Yes. She was nice.” He scratched the back of his neck, trying to alleviate some of the kinks. “Listen, let’s talk about something else. You’re young and idealistic and think love wins all in the end. It’s a nice idea, but trust me, reality is different.”
She withdrew, her eyebrows furrowing at him. Tension crackled between them. “Just because I’m not bitter like you, there’s no reason to talk down to me.”
“I’m not. You’re very bright and smart. I’m being a realist about what to expect. For instance, you’re twenty-five years old. You have your life ahead of you, so why would you waste it and get married so young?”
“People don’t die when they marry. My parents got married when they were young, and they’d still be together if my father hadn’t died.”
“But we don’t know for sure, do we? We don’t know if you’ll get your dreamy happy ending with a guy who’s too blind to even fuck you right.”
“Screw you, Nico, because I sure as hell won’t be doing you tonight.”
He blinked, trying to make sense of what happened, but she spun on her heel and marched out of the store before he had a chance to exhale.
…
Emma checked her Facebook messages. One from Simon popped onto her screen, and she read it out loud. Hi Emma, hope you’re doing well. When I’m back in the States, we’ll go out to eat, and I’ll tell you all about the people I’ve met.
She touched her phone, outlining the blinking message notification. Then she clenched the cell phone and glanced at the beautiful beach in front of her. She’d taken a cab after storming out of the sex shop, hustling into the first one that stopped for her. Despite her telling him not to follow her, she knew how freaking stubborn Nico could be, and she needed to think.
Why did his dissing her plan hurt her so much? She’d already known his views from the start. They never mattered before—why did they matter now?
Because he’s a good guy. Despite him acting all tough and heartless, she’d seen how he helped Gurdish at the beach. He cared about people, even if he believed voicing his feelings made him weak.
And I care for him. The realization hurt her like a blow to her face. She balked and sat on a bench. Around her, people walked their dogs and tourists took animated pictures of one another. A good-looking woman held a selfie stick and snapped herself making all kinds of duck faces.
None of the bustle surrounding her took away from the truth knotting her stomach. She cared for him. She didn’t love him, of course, that’d be ridiculous. But she’d come to care for him enough to wish for his happiness. To wish for more for him.
Shit.
Hot sex blurred the lines and fogged her brain. That had to be it. Once he disappeared from her life, all would go back to normal. Out of sight, out of mind.
She clicked on Simon’s message. Did he still think of her as a girlfriend, or someone he wanted to chat with when he returned to the U.S.? Either way, he’d contacted her. Had to be a good sign, right?
She typed a replied. Sounds fun. Looking forward to hearing all about it. Am on a work trip. Talk soon.
“Emma!” She heard Nico call her.
Nico parked his car and rushed out of it, but she remained still. Her heart did a backflip, and she cursed herself for responding to his presence even when she was mad at him. “How did you find me?”
“I ran out of the store and then got in my car and began stalking the beach in front of the hotel hoping to find you.”
She shrugged. “All right. What do you want?”
He thrust his fingers into his hair, messing it up. “See, this is why I never talk about personal stuff, because I end up apologizing.”
She glanced at the ground for an instant. Her intention wasn’t to shame him into thinking her way, but to stop him from mocking her values. “It’s not the personal stuff. It was how you acted like I’m some brainless doll who doesn’t know what she wants. Like my dreams don’t matter because they don’t fit your agenda.”
He took her hand in his, and gave it a light squeeze. “I know. I’m sorry, Emma. You’re an amazing person, inside and out. The man who ends up with you will be a lucky son of a bitch.” His gaze collided with hers, and she couldn’t look away. Her throat became dry and thick.
“Thanks. I happen to agree, but that doesn’t get you off the hook. No lessons tonight,” she said. He needed a time-out, and she’d use the no-sex night to explore her emotions with a clear head. Caring for him, no matter the capacity, made her life a lot more complicated. And she hated complications. “Are we clear?”
“I’ll survive. Want to grab something to eat?”
Emma brushed her hair for the tenth time. She’d opted for a blue dress that whispered at her knees and a pair of wedged nude sandals. They were going to meet Desmorais today, and Nico would have his shot.
She looked at the brush, realizing it trembled slightly in her hand. Holy shit, this was it. They’d meet Desmorais, and even if he declined Nico’s offer—a likely outcome— she had to face her own repercussions.
Desmorais would probably find her behavior unprofessional at worst and strange at best. Not only did she insist on bringing Nico to the man’s home, but she’d be bringing the guy who wanted to buy it.
What if he fires me? She’d miss out on a client she enjoyed working with, not to mention the small fortune he paid her. Being self-employed meant worrying about overhead and everything else. She’d survive if she lost the Desmorais account, of course, but she could kiss her lavish wedding party goodbye.
She took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, willing herself to keep it together. The previous night, she’d stuck by her threat and hadn’t done the deed with him. Never mind that she ended up cozying to him in the middle of the night and cuddling him, but still, no intercourse. While she’d wanted to teach him a lesson, her needy hormones drove her crazy. He finished shaving in the bathroom, with the towel wrapped around his waist, and she’d stolen a glance or two.
Hell, she’d even pretended she needed to grab her perfume bottle only to accidentally brush against him, in hopes he’d catch the drift and clasp her elbow, slam her against the wall, and screw her hard and fast.
But he ignored her pathetic attempt and kept shaving, as if any red-blooded woman wouldn’t just take advantage of his ridiculously hot body.
She fanned herself and clenched the brush in her hand. A pang of fear quickened her pulse. What if he closed the deal with Desmorais today and no longer needed her?
This would be a great opportunity for him to ditch her.
Of course. She began brushing her hair with stronger strokes, almost violently. Despite their deal, he could claim he’d taught her enough and use the previous day’s tiff as an example to end their agreement.
And she’d never know what it was like to have anal sex.
She doubted Simon would want to do it, and if he never got back with her—it’d take a lot of trust to try it with another guy. Besides, she’d read in a women’s magazine it could be painful with the wrong partner. Nico had a lot of issues, but in the bedroom he was definitely the right partner for pretty much anything.
A frisson moved through her body. After she’d left the shop, he’d asked the store manager to have their items delivered to their hotel, and then he’d followed her. When the attendant had brought a brown paper bag and given it to him, she’d become flustered, because she knew her naughty stuff was in there.
“Are you okay, Emma?” he asked from behind.
She shifted in the chair to find him impeccably dressed in slacks and shirt, topped with a light gray jacket. She swallowed the lump of frustrated desire in her throat and loosened her grip on the brush. “Are you ready?”
He stood a little straighter. “Yes. Ready to go get what’s mine.”
Emma acquiesced and felt jealous of how possessive he was over the property. A property that could kick her in the ass at the end of the day—and not in the way she expected.