Chapter Seventeen

Annabelle

Elliot told me to rest if I want, but I can’t. There is the feeling of slight fullness from the vibrator inside me that simply cannot be ignored. I’m sure Elliot has plans for that later. The sex earlier on the plane only whetted my appetite for what’s to come.

But even if it weren’t for the toy and sex, the flight itself is beyond exciting. I’ve flown a few times, always in business class, but this is the kind of stuff I only read about in glossy magazines about the rich and famous. It isn’t something that happens to me.

We dine in-flight. Elliot switches his seat so we can sit across from each other with the big wooden table between us. Our butler begins serving us what’s going to be a six-course meal on real china with real silver utensils. I even get to choose between steak and grilled chicken.

“So if I take the steak, does my husband get chicken?” I ask.

Elliot is having a hard time hiding a smile, but Parker’s expression betrays absolutely nothing. “No, Madam. Your choice will not affect his.”

I select the beef and look at Elliot after Parker is gone with Elliot’s order of steak as well. “So he prepared two of each?”

Elliot nods.

“What a waste.”

“What can he do? If he only had one of each, we might not both get what we want.”

“But…” It boggles my mind. “It seems crazy wasteful.”

“It’s his job to make us happy.”

“I guess so.” My phone buzzes in my purse. “Oh darn. I forgot to turn it off.”

“It’s no problem. The whole point of flying in your own jet is you do what you want.”

I pull it out, flushing.

Happy honeymoon, Nonny’s text says. Send me pics!

“It’s Nonny. She sounds perky enough. She wants pictures already.”

“I’m sure we can manage to send a few,” Elliot says indulgently.

I give him a warm smile. He’s good to my sister. Most guys I know aren’t that patient with teenagers. I text back, Will do. And don’t forget to behave.

You know I’m perfect.

A grin tugs at my mouth. Parker places a small plate of cold appetizer in front of me, and I murmur my thanks as the phone vibrates in my hand again. The smile still on my lips, I look down. All my good humor vanishes.

Did you talk to your husband?

I stare at Dennis’s text. I’d forgotten about him over the last few days. With so many things going on, he hasn’t even been on my radar. Besides, the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced Elliot has nothing to do with the situation at his company. Gavin and my husband seem to be pretty close, but that doesn’t mean Elliot gets to interfere with how Gavin runs his firm.

“Everything okay with Nonny?” Elliot asks.

“She’s fine.” I force a smile, then look down at the phone screen. I quickly type, Elliot isn’t involved. You have to figure this out on your own. I can’t help you, then hit send.

I drop the phone back in my purse. It buzzes again.

Elliot glances at my purse, one eyebrow raised.

“Teenage drama. I think it’s fine to ignore her for a while. I am on my honeymoon, after all.” I smile while lying through my teeth. I don’t want to deal with my ex from high school when I’m with Elliot. He’s right about us needing to focus on our present. My past can’t change, and I won’t let it drag me down.

The meal service lasts for two hours. We chat about our favorite movies and food and activities, the things that we’d know about each other already if we’d dated like most normal couples.

Finally, after Parker serves a collection of gourmet chocolate truffles and hot tea, I lean back. “That was amazing. I don’t ever remember eating so well.”

“It’s a pleasure to see you eat.” Elliot watches me, his eyes hot.

I glance at Parker, who is standing a safe distance away. “Were you having dirty thoughts?” I whisper, squirming.

“I’m always having dirty thoughts about you.”

The vibrator buzzes all of a sudden, and I gasp. I shift around, trying to make it less distracting, but it’s no use. Besides, my body’s always primed for Elliot. I can’t help myself from being hyper-aware of him whenever we’re together.

“It’s satisfying to know you like what I give you.” A surprised look passes his face. “More so than I thought it would be.”

“Didn’t your exes like your food, your jet and everything else?”

He shrugs. “To them all this is…expected. Nothing special.”

“I hope I never become that jaded.” I bite my lower lip. It’s silly of me to say that like we’re going to be together for that long. A year sounds long, but it’s really nothing.

His eyes shutter.

“So.” I take a sip of the tea. “Why did you wait until you were twenty-one to sell your company?” I blurt out, trying to cover up the awkwardness and divert my attention away from the vibrator’s pleasurable buzzing. “You could’ve sold it earlier, right?”

He nods, but his hot gaze tells me he knows what I’m doing and he’s willing to go along to see how long we can carry on a conversation. “There was lots of interest, but we had to make sure that the proceeds from the sale would be ours, not our parents’.”

“Eighteen would’ve made you adults.”

“Yes, but twenty-one ensured that nothing our parents could come up with would work. Lucas and I had no desire to give either of them a penny.”

“You guys are identical twins, right?”

“Yes.”

“You must’ve been pure terror, too smart and too good-looking.”

Elliot laughs. “We had our moments, but running the company kept us busy. You have no idea how much work it takes to remain anonymous on top of everything else we had to do. None of the workers ever saw us. None of them would’ve been surprised if we were two hermits living in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with only a satellite connection for internet. They had no idea we were just college nerds. Besides…” He dumps more sugar cubes into his tea. “Even if we’d wanted to sell earlier, we couldn’t. It’s not a well-publicized story, but we had some problems with our CFO, who turned out to be an embezzling asshole. If he’d gotten away with it, he would’ve made a small fortune from the sale since he would’ve gotten a slice of the sales price. All the C-suite guys had that going for them, but Lucas and I would’ve been damned if he got anything after he’d already stolen from us.”

“Did he go to jail?”

He shakes his head. “He was very, very lucky. Had an assistant who took the fall for him.” Elliot sips his tea, then nods in approval. “How about you? What were you doing in school?”

“Nothing serious. I was studying finance.” I sigh at the stupid dream. “I was going to join my dad.” And just the thought of that dims my mood. “That was before I knew what he was really up to.” I keep my voice light, like I’m telling a joke. In a way it was a joke…on me.

“I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s better that I had to quit after two years. It would’ve come out sooner or later. At least this way, I can change my major and do something else with my life.”

“What your dad did doesn’t define you.”

“It doesn’t and it shouldn’t, but it feels that way. He was supposed to be the champion of helping smaller guys get their share of the American dream—a nice retirement, sending their kids to college, maybe a vacation here and there. Nothing extravagant, but still something worthwhile.” I exhale roughly. “Everyone in town loved him because he made them rich. They treated me and Nonny like princesses. Then the pyramid collapsed, and we were public enemy number one. The only saving grace is that my dad and his scheme didn’t get massive national publicity like Madoff. He was a small fish, you know? But the local media were relentless.”

Elliot reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You don’t have to think about the past. Nobody is going to hold that against you in L.A. It’s the city of fresh starts.”

I give him a pat smile even as Dennis’s shocked face and furious demands resurface in my mind. Dennis and I both share a past. So long as I live, I will not be able to shed my legacy as the daughter of Aaron Key.

“Is this why you want to work?” Elliot asks. “You want to see what you might like better?”

“Something like that, plus it might be nice to be appreciated enough to make some extra cash on the side,” I fib. It’s easier than telling him about how stupid I’ve been with Mr. Grayson. Poverty and desperation aren’t good enough excuses for tying myself to a man with dubious intentions.

Elliot tilts his head, his eyes entirely too penetrating. “If you want, I can ask around and see.”

I start to shake my head…but then think better of it. “Okay. I’d like that.” Even if it’s a non-paying position, it would be a good idea for me to start networking and make my own friends who can be there for me after my time with Elliot is up. I have to think long-term, beyond my time with Elliot. I have a whole life ahead of me.

We curl up together and watch a movie. Something short—about ninety minutes because that’s all the time we have before landing. I don’t remember much about the flick though because I am too busy absorbing Elliot’s intoxicating scent and bone-melting warmth.

There’s still some light when we land in St. Cecilia, even though we have at least two hours before dinnertime. Unlike L.A., the air is moist and clean with sea and salt. I breathe in deeply, looking up at the orange and purple sky that seems to come right down and touch us.

A black Bentley SUV waits for us at the private airport along with a driver in a black uniform. In deference to the hot, tropical weather, his shirt has short sleeves although his pants are long.

“Mr. and Mrs. Reed,” he says softly. “Welcome to St. Cecilia.” He opens the door and loads our luggage into the car. An official glances at our passports, then we’re off.

The drive is uneventful, but I squirm the entire time because Elliot turns on the vibrator as soon as we climb inside the car. It hums nicely on low intensity, and the purr of the engine only intensifies my lust. Elliot behaves, since there is no privacy partition between us and the driver, but his eyes are dark, his nostrils flaring when I bite my lower lip. He is acutely aware of the kind of torment he’s putting me through.

The resort is swanky. There is no other word for the soaring ceiling and glittering marble lobby, the interesting chandeliers, abstract sculptures and paintings. The place is contemporary and breezy, glossed with elegance and wealth. Every inch of the interior says this is the kind of spot you go to when money is no object and you want to have all your whims fulfilled by a courteous staff.

A front desk clerk in a floral, tropical dress checks us in. “Honeymoon villa.” She confirms the rest of the reservation details and smiles. “Welcome to Aylster Resort and Spa, Mr. and Mrs. Reed. And congratulations.”

A man appears. He is in his fifties, his skin darkly tanned from the tropical sun. His black uniform has a short-sleeve top similar to our driver.

“Good evening. I’m Marco, and I’ll be your butler during your stay.”

My eyebrows rise. Another butler? Seriously? Elliot listens to Marco’s introduction with a blasé expression.

Marco leads us to our villa, while another staff member brings our suitcases. The garden is massive, with lush vegetation and trees—I recognize banana and palm but there are others as well. Our villa faces tranquil, turquoise water with sand that looks finer than wet silk. The master suite leads to a private pool and hot tub, and the living room is luxuriously appointed with leather couches and contemporary glass-top tables. The flooring is hardwood, carefully polished and waxed. There is even a small kitchenette with a fully stocked mini-fridge and a few items for tea and coffee.

“If you’d like anything, please do not hesitate to call. There are phones by your bed, in the master bath, in the living room and by the pool.” He gestures at our bags. “I’ll unpack now, if that’s all right. Do you have any special instructions?”

I shake my head, dumbfounded. Elliot says, “We’d like to dine a bit early. What do you recommend?”

“There are seven restaurants and a bar on the resort, but if you’d like something more private, a dinner on the beach can be arranged in an hour. Would that be acceptable?”

Elliot looks at me. “What do you think?”

“Private.”

He turns back to Marco. “Dinner on the beach. Anything specific you recommend?”

“Today’s fresh catch is excellent, unless you do not care for seafood.”

“Then I’ll have that.” Elliot glances at me.

I nod.

“Make that two,” he says.

“Champagne or wine?”

“No, thank you.” Elliot dismisses the butler with a small motion of his head.

I just stare as our butler takes care of everything. “Oh wow.”

Elliot presses his chest against my back, wrapping his arms around me, and leads me to the pool. “We should just chill until Marco’s finished. It won’t take him any time at all.” He sits in one of the lounging chairs, pulling me onto his lap.

His thick cock is hard and pressing against my backside. The vibrator inside me buzzes with more intensity.

“Elliot,” I gasp, then squirm.

His teeth nip my ear. “I want to feel you come.”

“But Marco’s in there.” I gesture helplessly at the villa.

“He isn’t going to know. And even if he does, what do you care?” Elliot’s breath fans hotly against my neck. His hands skim along my arms, making me shiver.

I moan, turning around so we can be pressed face-to-face. The vibrator pulses harder, and I let my body sink into him, my mouth on his. Elliot is right. I don’t care about Marco or anything else at all as a climax sweeps over me.

* * *

Annabelle

Elliot is correct about Marco being fast. He’s gone by the time I recover from the orgasm. All our suitcases have been unpacked, our clothes pressed and neatly hanging in the closet.

The vibrator isn’t doing anything for now, but I know Elliot could turn it on at any time. My muscles clench around it, and I breathe out between my lips. The control it gives Elliot—the way he can make it go high and make me come whenever he wants—is hot. Just thinking about it makes my skin heat. If someone had told me that I would allow anyone to do this to me, I would’ve laughed in their face. But now…

Now, everything is different because I’ve met Elliot.

The memory abruptly chills me. We didn’t meet by chance. Mr. Grayson had something to do with it, no matter how small. I make a mental note to figure out what he ultimately wants, even though I have no idea how I’m going to do that at the moment. Later, I tell myself firmly. I don’t want to ruin our honeymoon by worrying about someone as sketchy as Mr. Grayson.

I freshen up with a quick shower and put on a light, white sleeveless sundress with an asymmetrical hemline, while Elliot takes a dip in the pool. The man does love to swim. I admire the easy way he pushes forward through the water, his muscles working beautifully together like a perfect set of gears. The visual is a superb turn-on, especially when combined with the crazy amount of control I’ve given him.

“Dinner’s ready in fifteen minutes,” I tell him, walking outside, my bare feet hitting the smooth wooden deck.

“I know.” He comes out of the pool, the water streaming down his sleek body in rivulets.

I sigh mentally. What wouldn’t I give to lick the droplets clinging to his taut, golden skin?

“If you keep giving me that ‘fuck me’ look, we won’t be eating.”

“A terrible fate.”

“But it would be.” He shoots me a wicked grin. “I plan to exhaust you, beautiful, and you gotta keep your strength up.”

I flush.

He laughs, then disappears into the door that leads to the master bathroom. It has a big glass shower with multiple heads and a huge separate sunken tub that can easily fit two adults.

I sit and enjoy the view of the final moments of sunset over the ocean. The sun is almost gone, but the last curved sliver turns the sky dark purple and red. A cooling breeze comes in from the sea. It makes you want to smile dreamily and stretch your arms over your head…so I do. This is as close to heaven as I can get. I squirm. Well… I also need Elliot inside me soon or I’m going to go mad in this paradise.

It doesn’t take long before he reappears, padding barefoot across the deck. He’s in a white button-down shirt with short sleeves and pale cream shorts. His dark hair is damp, and he looks utterly kissable as he sits at my feet.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

“That I’m happy. And that I want you.” The breeze tugs at my hair, and I push it out of my face. “You?”

“Exactly the same.”

He leans close and my heart picks up its tempo, my lips parting.

Something buzzes. And it’s not the vibrator.

He pulls back with a soft curse and looks at his phone. The good humor glides off his face like oil.

“Something wrong?” I ask.

His fingers move deftly as he types something. “No,” he says. “Nothing that can’t wait.” He gives me his hand. “Let’s go eat. I can smell the fish.”

I sniff. Now that he mentions it, there is a hint of fresh bread and grilled seafood in the air. He links his fingers with mine and pulls me to my feet.

I let him lead, our toes sinking into the soft sand. And I wish that this is how our lives could be until our time’s up.