Mr. Gladstone is yammering in my ear for the forty minutes it takes for the limousine to get from the Cayman Islands airport to our five-star resort. He’s not even talking to me. He’s on the phone yelling about some shipments that were sent to Yemen instead of Vietnam. How can someone fuck that up?

Kara is sitting across from me giving me dirty looks, and Dex is beside her, glancing at my legs every few minutes.

We pull up to our hotel, The Turtle Cove, and I let out a gasp. Apparently, it’s the nicest resort in the Cayman Islands, and so far-from the look of the front lobby-it’s living up to its reputation. There are towering palm trees swaying in the hot Caribbean breeze, flowers of all sizes, shapes, and colors, and tons of workers running around making it look like a human ant hill.

Two concierge agents meet us with cold glasses of champagne and they’re welcoming me to the resort before I even step foot out of the limousine. Traveling rich does have its perks.

I take a sip and moan as the cool bubbles tingle in my mouth and find their way up to my nose.

“Don’t spill it,” Dex whispers in my ear as he reaches past me for a champagne flute.

I should pour it over his head. I owe him a champagne shower.

Mr. Gladstone bursts out of the limousine and storms up the steps as he yells at the poor sucker on the other end of the line. The concierge agents look at each other in a panic, and then the older-looking one chases after him. Kara follows them both, looking bored as usual.

“My name is Preston, and I’ll be your personal concierge,” the agent says. “Are you traveling with Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone?”

“We are,” Dex answers with a smile. “I’m Mr. Gladstone’s personal pilot, and she is his mistress.”

Preston’s cheeks redden as he looks at me with a look of shock.

“He’s kidding of course,” I say. “I’m the Captain of the plane and he’s my co-pilot. I found him flying moose carcasses up north, and I’m testing him out.” I lean in close to Preston and whisper just loud enough for Dex to hear. “I don’t think he’s going to make it. He doesn’t have a steady hand.”

A growl rumbles from Dex’s throat. “I’ve yet to show you what I can do with my hands.”

“Anyway,” I say, straightening up. “I’d love to get to my room.”

Preston scans the clipboard in his hands. “What did you say your name was again?”

“Riley,” I say. “Riley Jones.”

His face scrunches up like he just smelled a moist gym bag. “I don’t have you on the list.”

Dex steps in close beside me, and I get a whiff of his rugged cologne mixed with the smell of grease. It’s a beautiful combination. “Try, Mr. and Mrs. Dex Jameson,” he says, looking at me with a smirk.

No.

Please no.

Preston smiles and I can feel my reheated lunch creeping back up my throat. “Here you two are. Beachfront. Nice.”

What did I get myself into?

Dex slides his strong hand around my hip and yanks me close to him. “Don’t you remember, baby?” he asks, giving my cheek a fat, wet kiss. “I made the reservations.”

He wraps his other hand around my waist and holds me there as I try to squirm away. He’s even stronger than he looks.

Dex turns to Preston with a wide grin on his lips. “She’d lose her head if it wasn’t attached to her beautiful neck.”

“You two seem very in love,” Preston says, hugging the clipboard to his chest. It’s an odd thing to say considering I’m desperately trying to break free from his grasp, but Preston looks like an odd guy. It’s not every day that you meet a man with a pencil-thin mustache.

“We are in love,” Dex says, batting his long eyelashes as he stares into my eyes. “We just got married last month. It’s our late honeymoon. Isn’t that right, honey?”

“Yup,” I say shrugging my shoulders. “I was panicking over getting older, and I thought that it was time to settle.”

Preston nods. “It’s so nice to settle down.”

“Not settle down,” I say, shaking my head. “Settle for him. He’s not my number one choice, or even my fifth choice, but his family comes from money, and he’s not the worst cook. I just wish he wasn’t hung like a five-year-old.”

Dex’s hands tighten around my waist and he gives me a serious look that makes me start giggling. Preston coughs uncomfortably.

“I didn’t hear you complaining last night,” Dex says with a hint of annoyance in his voice. I love that I’m getting under his skin. He deserves it. And more.

“I didn’t think you would over the sobbing,” I say. I turn to Preston and raise an eyebrow. “He always cries during sex. I don’t know what it is, but we can never get through a round of sex without him turning on the waterworks.”

Preston scratches the side of his cheek and keeps looking around at his colleagues as if he’s hoping someone is going to come and save him.

Dex is grinning at me with a look in his eyes that I can’t quite place. Admiration maybe?

“Well played,” he whispers in my ear before dropping his hands. But I’m not done yet.

A concierge agent is walking by with a bunch of champagne flutes, and I snatch a glass off of his tray. “Honey, look out!” I yell as I throw the champagne into Dex’s face. “My goodness, honey,” I say, pretending like I’m a concerned wife. “There was a bee on your nose.” I turn to Preston as Dex glares at me with champagne pouring down his face onto his pilot’s shirt and tie. “He’s allergic. That could have gotten ugly.”

“Things are about to get ugly,” Dex mumbles as he wipes his face with his sleeve.

I fix his tie, brushing my knuckles against his hard upper chest as I lean in close to his ear. “That was well played,” I whisper, “and I’m just getting started. You don’t know who you got into the ring with.”

He grins. He’s actually enjoying this. But so am I, if I’m being honest.

“I think we’re ready to go to our room,” I say, turning to Preston. He couldn’t look more relieved.

Dex’s powerful hand slides down my back and he squeezes my ass with a firm grip. “We sure are! Let’s go try out that bed.”

I reach behind myself and squeeze my nails into his thick, tattooed forearm until he lets go of my ass. “Please make sure there’s extra Kleenex on the nightstand. I don’t want my husband’s tears getting on the nice bed sheets.”

Dex is shaking his head, chuckling to himself as I walk with Preston into the lobby. This hotel is spectacular. Preston points out the many pieces of art displayed between the exotic plants and flowers. He points to an ugly statue of a mermaid who looks like she was sculpted by a blind four-year-old. Her face looks like a stone version of Shrek. “That was given to us by the Japanese President of the Imperial Council after he stayed for two wonderful weeks at our resort.”

“It’s interesting,” I say, grimacing as I stare at her thick nose. “Did he make it himself?”

Preston lets out a squeal of laughter and quickly hides his mouth with his clipboard. “It’s not to my tastes either,” he whispers, leaning in close.

“Maybe you should throw her back in the ocean,” I say, and he laughs again.

“You just got yourself upgraded to the top floor,” he says with a grin.

We pass spectacular pool after pool and water fountains that are so beautiful that they should be in an Italian museum. My jaw keeps dropping like I’m a defective marionette.

We finally get to the room and Dex is behind us, keeping a safe distance now that I have recruited Preston to my side and he’s outnumbered. Preston hands me the key card and gives me his personal cell phone number, telling me to contact him day or night if we need anything.

“Thanks, Peter,” Dex says, wrapping his muscular arms around me once again. My right breast is pressed up against his ribs, and my whole body tingles, responding in an eager way. He kisses me on the neck, sending shivers rushing down my spine as Preston walks away down the hall. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t like it, but I slap his hands away anyway as soon as Preston turns around the corner. Maybe I leave them for an extra second or two.

“Get off of me!” I say, planting my palms on his chest and pushing him away with all my strength. He’s like a brick wall and he doesn’t move. “Were the kisses really necessary?” I ask as he finally lets go of me.

“As necessary as the glass of champagne in the face,” he says, narrowing his eyes at me. “What the hell was that?”

“That was payback,” I say, sticking my finger in his face. “Remember that the next time you feel the need to play any of your games with me.”

“I didn’t realize that you’re so competitive,” he says. “I love a girl who likes to score.”

The way he says everything sounds so sexual. “Ugh,” I say, pushing past him into the room.

“Wow,” I gasp, looking around. The room is beautiful. Fucking stunning.

The far wall is made up entirely of windows, and the view is pure beach with the gorgeous turquoise ocean spreading out into the horizon. The patio door is open, and the warm breeze and salty ocean air hit my face like a warm kiss. I close my eyes and breathe it in. Not even Dex is going to ruin this moment for me.

“Fuck yeah,” he says, walking past me to the hot tub on the balcony. “Why don’t you slip out of those sticky clothes and come join me for a test drive?”

“Ugh,” I say, rolling my eyes. I underestimated his ability to ruin a moment.

The room is almost perfect. I just noticed there’s only one bed. The mattress is big enough that we don’t have to touch each other, but there’s no way I’m sleeping with a jackass like Dex.

I snatch a pillow off the bed and throw it at him. He catches it and looks at me with confusion in his eyes.

“Shotgun the bed,” I say. “You can sleep in the hot tub.”

He looks at me like I’m crazy. “I’m not sleeping outside.”

“Fine,” I say, crossing my arms as I stare him down. “You can sleep in the bathroom.”

“We have to play the part, Mrs. Jameson,” he says, stepping forward and tossing the pillow back on the bed. “That means sleeping in the same bed.”

I roll my eyes at the beautiful man that I’m sharing a bedroom with. The beautiful arrogant man. I have to remember that last part, although he’s always quick to remind me every time he opens his mouth. “I highly doubt that Prince Kalib will be spying on us throughout the night.”

“Who?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“You’re such an idiot.” I grab my beach bag and storm out of the room. It’s time to go to the beach and get my mind off of my unwanted roommate.

I change into my bikini in one of the resort’s public bathrooms and walk to the beach. The resort is beautiful, but all I can really see is Dex in the back of my mind and the frustratingly hot way that he looks when he smiles.

“Keep your eye on the prize,” I mutter to myself as I pass a couple suntanning on beach chairs beside the pool. The man’s back is as red as a sunburnt lobster.

Half a million dollars and change. That’s what’s on the line.

My stomach flutters just thinking about it. I’ve never had a chance at money like this before, and if I’m able to get it all of my dreams will come true. I’ll be enrolling in flight school before the ink on the check is dry.

All I have to do is convince the prince that Mr. Gladstone’s yachts are the best in the world and fool everyone into thinking that Dex and I are a happily married couple. That last part is the tricky one. We haven’t stopped arguing for two seconds since we’ve met.

I grab a piña colada from the beach bar (gotta love all-inclusive) and walk onto the white sand. It burns my feet, but I love it. There’s nothing like the feeling of hot sand spreading between your toes.

The beach is a maze of palm trees and little tiki huts with lazy tourists lying under them, seeking a bit of shade from the hot sun. The turquoise water looks beautiful, and I lie down on an empty beach chair and watch the gentle waves as I take a sip of my drink and then crush a chunk of ice between my teeth that the blender missed.

I can already feel the stress and anxiety that Dex built up in me drifting away on the warm Caribbean breeze. I can get used to this.

He really does know how to push all of my buttons. I have to give him that. He had me fuming all day wanting to rip his head off, but for some reason, I can’t stop thinking of the way that his hard arms felt wrapped around my body. They felt good. Strong. Sexy.

It’s too bad he’s the worst. But that may be part of the problem.

I’ve always been attracted to the bad boy type. That part of my life should have ended with my teenage acne, but I always find myself going back to the same alpha type asshole. Is it bad that I always root for the sexy bad guy in the movies?

His being a pilot isn’t helping either. I groan and sink a little lower in my chair as I picture his muscular body hidden by that tight pilot’s shirt. I’m not sure if it’s the sun or the image of his sleeves rolled up his strong forearms that’s making me hot, but I’m ready for a dip in the ocean when I start to wonder what the rest of his body looks like under that shirt.

I’m about to find out because here he comes.

I slink down in my chair and hide behind my fruity drink as Dex walks down the path to the beach. He doesn’t see me, thankfully, which means I’m free to stare.

He’s jacked, with toned, muscular arms covered in tattoos, a wide chest that screams alpha male, and ripped abs that scream ‘touch me.’ His black boardshorts are clinging to his hips a little low, just enough to see the carved V plunging into his waistband like an arrow to his cock and just the hint of a shadow of pubic hair.

I gulp.

My pretend husband is fucking hot.

I hate that I’m staring at him, I hate the crude thoughts running through my mind, and I hate that I can’t wait for him to walk by me so I can get a glimpse of his ass.

Two hot girls wearing bikinis that must be two sizes too small are walking toward him giggling to each other as they steal glances at him. Anger flashes through me, and I clench my teeth as I watch.

I just know he’s going to stop them, and of course, he does. What a player.

The angel on my left shoulder is telling me to turn away, but the devil on my right is holding my head in place with his pitchfork.

“Hi,” Dex says, flashing them a smile that would have any woman stop dead in her tracks.

And of course, they do. It’s so easy for him.

The girls’ body language says everything. Hands on hips, breasts pressed out, stomachs sucked in, leaning forward. “Take a breath ladies,” I whisper. “He’s an asshole.”

“I’ve never seen two mermaids on the beach,” Dex says to them, and they both laugh. The brunette flicks her hair while the blonde slides off her sunglasses and places them on her head to get a better look at him. I can’t blame her there.

He has their full attention, and all it took was a cheesy pickup line that never would have worked if he wasn’t so goddamned hot. They introduce themselves as Carrie and Nikki as he shakes their hands and openly stares at their perky breasts. They don’t seem to mind.

Before I can tell myself that this is a bad idea, I’m getting up and walking over. My commission is on the line, and I can’t have that. It’s absolutely not because I’m jealous. You never know when Prince Kalib could be watching. He could be that old white man who’s sleeping on the chair over there. You can never be too careful. Definitely not because I’m jealous.

I wrap my arm around Dex’s shoulder and he swings his head toward me with a look of shock that quickly turns into a look of defeat. “There you are, honey,” I say, tapping my fingers on his warm skin. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” I turn to the two girls and smile. “My husband is always wandering around.”

Dex is glaring at me, and I give him a little wink.

The girls look disappointed, which makes me happy that I came over here. I lean in close to them. “He got kicked in the head two years ago by a donkey,” I whisper, “and he’s never been the same. I think that donkey knocked some screws loose.”

The girls look horrified as they take turns glancing from me to Dex. They wish us a good day and hurry away.

“Not cool,” Dex says, glaring at me. He looks so hot with the shine of sweat on his toned body. Little specks of sand are clinging to his tanned skin.

“Sorry,” I say, raising my nose in the air, “but I don’t want my room full of half-naked sluts.”

Dex grins. “That’s insulting,” he says with a frown. “They’d be completely naked sluts.”

“Sorry,” I say, turning and walking back to my beach chair. “No sluts while we’re married. Honey.”

“I want a divorce,” he calls out.

I turn to him with a smirk. “Let me get paid first.”