Lexington

The morning following dinner on the beach Amie and I head to the sister resort via jeep. Her hair is pulled up in a messy bun, her face is makeup-free apart from some clear lip gloss that tastes like artificial grapes. I’ve kissed it off three times already.

It isn’t hard to convince myself that bringing her along is smart and will be beneficial for research purposes. She’s the perfect person to compare spa services between hotels. She’s also gorgeous, alluring, and charming. She’ll have the staff eating out of her hand.

While I meet with the hotel manager I send her off for a morning of pampering. We reconvene at lunch to discuss what she liked best between the two resorts with the spa and hotel managers. The ambiance is better at the other hotel, but the services are on par. She’s eloquent and intelligent as she reviews the spa menu and makes suggested tweaks.

If I weren’t sleeping with her I’d poach her for my team. She has an excellent mind for marketing and management. I doubt she’s being used to her full potential over at Moorehead. What makes her stand apart is that she not only sees the flaws in a plan, but she can then find a workable solution. And as predicted, every single person in the room, male and female, has fallen completely in love with her by the time we come up with what seems to be a viable strategy for minor renovations to the hotel spa and revamping the services offered, including makeup prep for evening events.

This gives me an idea for an entirely new spin on how the spa experiences are promoted. We have a significant market for on-site weddings, and we’ve been building on that for the past few years, but this could add another dimension, expanding the luxury beyond the spa and right into the comfort of guest suites.

After the meeting I show Amie around the grounds, and take her on a tour of the accommodations. We make good use of a honeymoon suite before having dinner with the managerial staff.

Being with her like this is dangerous, seeing her in her element, pulling her into my world, learning more about who she is beyond the kink in the bedroom and her smart mouth—but I don’t seem to be able to stop myself. And what’s more, I don’t want to. I get that she’s not in the right headspace for this to be more for the time being, but that doesn’t mean I can’t push for that later, once we’re back in the real world and things have settled down for her.

It’s late by the time we finish. I would suggest staying the night, but I have meetings in the morning and I’ll need a fresh suit, so we head back to the Mills Resort.

I send her off to the bungalow without me so I can pick up a few things from the concierge. I don’t want to wait for room service, and once we’re in her bungalow I intend to avoid disruptions. Except on my way back I receive a text from Amie telling me Armstrong is at the resort.

I should’ve expected this. He had to know I was bringing her to a sister hotel on the island, and eventually he’d make his way to her, because Armstrong doesn’t like to lose.

The dock is silent as I head to my bungalow and drop the bottle of champagne and basket of desserts inside the door, uncertain how to proceed. Amie hasn’t left additional messages, and I assume if she wants my help she’ll ask for it. I don’t want to make this situation any more difficult than it needs to be, but I also don’t want Armstrong filling her head with stories about me, or finding out what’s going on here, should he manipulate her into saying something.

There aren’t a lot of options. I open the sliding door and step outside, moving to the lower platform in case I can see or hear anything going on in her bungalow. From here I can just make out the edge of Amie’s dock. Through the window I see her pacing, arms flailing as Armstrong’s silhouette follows behind her. Their voices become clear when Amie throws open the sliding door.

“Why are we out here?” The waver in Armstrong’s voice is expected, considering how nervous water makes him.

“I need air,” Amie snaps.

“Amalie, you need to be reasonable. You’ve made your point. I’m sorry that you feel the need to degrade yourself like this—”

“Degrade myself?”

“By coming here with my cousin. It’s fine that you needed to get your anger out of your system. I understand your rebellion and I won’t ask questions, just come back to the resort with me.”

“You realize you’re not making any sense at all, right?”

“You can’t tell me that Lexington hasn’t filled your head with lies about me. I warned you about him once, Amalie. I shouldn’t have to do it again.” He waves a hand in the air. “What’s happened is irrelevant, as long as you come back with me. I’m sure you’ve received the messages from my mother. It doesn’t look good for you to be here without me.”

“What do messages from Gwendolyn have to do with anything?”

“She’s convinced my coming here will help make things right. It’ll look better.” Armstrong sighs, as if he’s annoyed.

“You can’t be serious. You’re here because your mother told you to come?”

“I’m here to show you I can be understanding about this. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get a passport on such short notice? I had to take a flight with a layover. And I had to sit in coach.”

“Oh poor you! Understanding? You cheated on me, at our fucking wedding, Armstrong. There’s nothing to be understanding about, and there is no together anymore.”

Armstrong makes a tsking sound.

“Don’t you dare make that goddamn fucking sound. I will use whatever fucking language I feel like. You don’t get to come here and shove your disapproval down my throat.”

He raises his hands in supplication. “I’m not here to fight with you, Amalie. You need to think about this, about the impact it’s going to have on you, on us. The media will tear you apart.”

“Me?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m not the one who got caught cheating at my own wedding.”

Armstrong takes a halting step toward her, but backs up again so he’s close to the door. “Darling, can we just go inside and talk about this?”

“Don’t darling me. If the media is going to tear anyone apart it’s you.”

Armstrong laughs, and it’s one I know well. It’s his leverage laugh. As if he has something on her. “Do you even know what the rumors are?”

Amie’s voice goes flat. “I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“Have you even checked in with your family since you ran away?” Silence stretches out for a few seconds, followed by Armstrong’s exaggerated sigh.

“Are you just here hiding then? Pretending none of this matters? As if it has no bearing on your family or mine? Were you aware that there’s speculation regarding the unfortunate event at the wedding? That people are saying it was a setup, that it was a recording of me with you.”

Amie’s voice is softer, lower now. “You have to be kidding me.”

“Oh, I’m quite serious. Imagine if it happened to get out that you’ve run off on our honeymoon and that you’re sleeping around on me because of a miscommunication? You think the media is critical of you now, just imagine how much worse it could get.”

“That’s not even logical, and you know it.”

“That’s the funny thing about the media, logic doesn’t necessarily apply, does it? This marriage is good for our families. We’ll both benefit. I’m good for your family’s social standing and you’re good for my bank account.”

“You’re making this about money and social status? Wow, there’s a real sales pitch for relationship longevity.” I can practically hear the grit in her teeth.

“Oh come on, Amalie. You know how this goes. If you want me to treat you less like my wife and more like a mistress I certainly can try. But don’t you think it would be in your best interest to attempt to rise to the social standing my family will bring you, rather than act like a cheap slut? It would be a shame to see all my hard work undone in a span of weeks.”

“Hard work? What are you even talking about?”

“I put so much time and energy into molding you to be the perfect partner to stand by my side. Especially when I run Moorehead Media with my father. It hasn’t even been two weeks and look at you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the way I look.”

“If you’re more interested in being someone’s mistress, I suppose you’re well on your way there.”

“You really are a vile human being.” Barely contained rage makes her voice gravelly. “How many?”

“How many what?”

“How many women did you cheat on me with? How many were there besides Brittany?”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“Irrelevant? Is that your new favorite word? Do you even know? Can you guess?”

“Based on your views of what constitutes cheating, a few, I guess. Not that many.”

“A few? How can you think this is okay?”

“Stop being so obtuse, Amalie. This is how it is. You’ll get used to it.”

“I don’t want to get used to it. I don’t want to be with you, not ever. What is it going to take for you to understand that?”

“This isn’t just about you. You’re leaving a big mess behind in New York. Who do you think is dealing with it?”

“Definitely not you.”

“That’s because I’m here. This running and hiding and acting out is juvenile, Amalie. You’re being a spoiled brat, it’s rather tiring.”

“Get out.” She reaches around him and opens the screen door with a hard slam. “Do not think you can manipulate or blackmail me into reconciling. When you get back to New York the annulment papers will be waiting for you to sign. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, further contact will be through my lawyer, otherwise I’ll file a restraining order. Now leave or I’ll call security.”

He stumbles back through the door as she pushes past him. “You’ll regret this, Amalie.”

“I already do, more than you can even imagine. But not for the reasons you want me to.”

After less than a minute of tense silence the door of her bungalow opens and Armstrong steps out in the dark night, walking briskly down the dock, nearly breaking into a run. I’d like to follow after him and kick his ass for her, but I stay where I am, aware I’d only be doing more damage.

I’m not sure what to expect from Amie at this point. Not that I expect anything from her after that bullshit, but I wait until he’s long gone before I fire off a message.

You okay?

It feels like forever before she responds.

I don’t know. Did you hear any or all of that?

It’s an honest answer. And it doesn’t make it any easier to decide how to proceed. I give her another minute before sending a message:

I did. I wanted to make sure you were safe. I’ll understand if you want space right now.

The dots appear and then disappear three times before a message finally comes through:

I probably should.

That’s not a yes. It’s not a no either. It’s conflict. Understandable, reasonable conflict. I wait for more, some kind of confirmation that she wants me to stay away after what just went down with Armstrong.

After several long minutes I hear nothing and assume her silence means I’m staying put. Except a timid, barely there knock has me out of the chair and across the room. As much as I know she’s probably coming here for comfort, not sex, my body doesn’t seem to recognize that. Maybe she needs a shoulder to cry on. I can be that. I can be a friend if she needs one tonight.

Amie doesn’t say anything as she steps inside. Pain makes her eyes shiny, the emotional kind, the embarrassed kind.

“I feel guilty for wanting this, for wanting you.” She runs her fingers across my jaw and rests her palm on my chest. “But not enough to stay away. What does that say about me? What kind of person does that make me?”

“It makes you human, Amie. Armstrong is a self-serving bastard. He’s good at manipulating.”

She drops her hand and remains silent, maybe absorbing the truth. We haven’t talked about her relationship with Armstrong apart from vague, snide comments. I don’t want to remind her why this is a bad idea, which is what his showing up has done.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I worry—selfishly—that his brief appearance will ruin this. I don’t want to lose any of my time with her because Armstrong’s idiocy has gotten in the way again.

She shakes her head, glassy eyes shimmering. Her fingertips flutter to her throat, then drop to touch the back of my hand.

“What can I do for you?”

Her tongue drags across her bottom lip. White teeth press into plush, wet flesh. Her gaze darts down and then back up, uncertainty mixing with need. How someone can look so innocent and be so incredibly sexy is a mystery I’m glad I get to discover. She wraps her fingers around my wrist and brings my hand up, curving my palm around her delicate neck. “Tell me you want to fuck me,” she whispers.

I sweep my thumb along her throat. “Amie.”

Her eyes flutter shut. “Tell me. Please.”

The truth is, this little slice of pretend we’re living in is quickly becoming real for me. But I can’t tell her that. She’s in no place mentally or emotionally for anything more than physical gratification, and putting that on her will destroy her. She’s so fragile already. So I give her the thing she needs from me, an escape from the dark place she’s going in that beautiful head of hers.

I brush my lips gently over hers. “I want you.”

Her breath leaves her on a tiny gasp when I press my fingertips into her jaw and tilt her head back.

I take a step closer, forcing her back against the door. “You know what I’m going to do?”

She makes a wanton, desperate sound. I feel it, all the way to my bones. I know all I am is a distraction from reality, but I still want her, even if I shouldn’t.

I press my hips into hers so she can feel how hard I am for her. “I’m going to fuck you.” I bite her chin and kiss my way to her lips. “And you’re going to love it.”

* * *

“Tell me you’re not hooking up with her.” Bancroft sounds pissed.

Of all the things I shouldn’t be doing, sleeping with Amalie is at the top of a very long list. As is taking her out for dinner, buying her clothes, flowers, spending nights staring at the stars, taking her to sister resorts and comparing spa services, introducing her to the managerial staff, and spending the night in her bed. Or mine. Also, fucking her up against my door after Armstrong shat all over their relationship, and then again in my bed, and again in the morning is also not the best in terms of planning. Especially considering how I’m enjoying the sleeping part as much as I am the fucking. But I have no desire to stop and neither does she, so I’m going to continue to take advantage of this arrangement until I can’t anymore.

“Isn’t that what college kids do?” I suppose it applies to this situation regardless.

“Just answer the damn question.”

“And what if I am?”

“You better be kidding, Lex. She’s still married.”

I scoff. “Do you have any idea what kind of bullshit Armstrong has been pulling on her?”

“Amie called Ruby this morning. Apparently he showed up last night.”

“So you know he admitted to screwing around on her with multiple women.” I drop down into a chair because I’m pacing, and my voice is rising.

“It’s a good thing he’s not in this country or I’d give him the beatdown he deserves. Ruby’s also encouraging Amie to hook up while she’s out there in Bora Bora.”

“I’m sorry, what?” That explains what she was doing in the bar with Fuck-me Eric the first night.

“She told Amie to let loose. Go wild. Get laid like it’s spring break.” He doesn’t sound impressed with this advice.

“Well, I guess it’s her vacation, she should feel free to hook up with whoever she wants.”

“Except for you, though, right?” There’s the hint of suspicion I was waiting for.

“She doesn’t want to hook up with me.” Shit, I sound angry. I need to level out.

“You’re sure about that? Kinda looked like it in that bridal suite.”

“Get off my dick. She was upset and not thinking clearly. She’d just been humiliated in front of everyone she knows and she was out for vengeance.” I don’t tell him I let her have it, hard and repeatedly. While we’re both adults who are capable of making adult decisions, I don’t think it’s a good idea to be truthful with my brother. I doubt Bane would intentionally out me, but it’s better to keep this quiet just to be safe. I don’t think my father would be very impressed if he found out my attention was quite so divided. I’m here to avoid the bullshit, not add to it by sleeping with Amie.

“This is a business trip. I helped her out when our dickhead cousin showed up. Her situation is fucked and I’m not interested in more drama than I already have.” I really have gotten myself in a lot deeper than I meant to. And the repercussions of this, if anyone finds out, are further reaching than Amie can understand. My history with Armstrong is tumultuous. He’s too self-absorbed to believe this wasn’t just a revenge screw.

Bane’s silent for a few seconds. “Are you spending time with her?”

“I have meetings and work. I can’t lie on the beach and ward off the predators. She’s a big girl, and I’m not her babysitter. I can’t protect someone who’s not interested in being protected, Bane.” It’s true. I made an attempt to protect her from me at the very beginning, but she sure didn’t make it easy.

“I get that. Just watch out for her if you can. Ruby’s pretty worried. I don’t know that Amie makes the best choices when she’s stressed out.”

“So one second you’re concerned I’m going to hook up with her and now you want me to be her guard dog. Make up your mind, little brother, either you want me involved or you don’t.”

His sigh echoes my frustration. “Sorry. I’m stressed because Ruby is stressed. Apparently Amie doesn’t want to deal with the Armstrong situation, and whenever Ruby brings it up she changes the subject.”

“Can you blame her?”

“Nope. Not at all, but Ruby says this is worse than the way she usually manages things.”

“Worse how? It’s not as if there’s a precedent for her circumstances.” I can’t imagine it’s every day the groom gets caught cheating on the bride at the wedding.

“I get that and I don’t know exactly. She’s just . . . quiet. Ruby’s worried she’s in a bad headspace. Just . . . don’t let anyone take advantage of her if you can help it.”

“I’ll try and keep an eye on her.” And every other part of my body. “Do you know how bad the rumors are? How are the Mooreheads spinning this in the media?” I’ve done the requisite searches, but I haven’t seen anything that corroborates what Armstrong said about it being a recording of the two of them. I can’t imagine anyone believing it.

“It’s mostly social media gossip, but everything is pulled down as fast as it goes up. I can’t fathom the money they’re parting with to keep this so quiet.”

“Maybe they’ll bankrupt themselves in the process.”

“Wouldn’t that be some justice. Armstrong is heading back to New York today, according to Mom, so at least Amie won’t have to deal with him anymore.”

That’s good news for Amie, great news for me.

Bane moves on to the much safer topic of business.

But the things he says about Amie stay with me. I know I told her I was fine with being a temporary diversion, but I’m not so sure I’ll be able to leave this thing between us here like I’m supposed to.