I bite my lower lip suggestively. ‘How about you show me in the shower?’
* * *
Before we meet the others for our first activity of the day – the SlotZilla zip line through Fremont Street – Matteo and I make our way down to the centre of the hotel, the canal shopping mall. We stand on the bridge, which is already quite busy with people watching the boats. I am still reeling from our shower, which began as soon as I suggested it. Matteo had slipped the bathrobe from my body and walked me over to stand naked in front of the window, where he brushed the hair from my neck and trailed kisses from my ear down to my shoulder. For a moment I was quite shocked. ‘It’s a mirrored window. No one can see us.’ His knuckles had grazed my breasts as they snaked lazily across my stomach down towards my lady parts, leaving a wave of shivers in their wake. He rubbed his fingers gently over my sweet spot until I moaned for more, begging for release as he slipped them inside. I arched back against him with the whole city spread out before us.
‘I can’t control myself around you,’ he said, his voice breaking and his words melting on my hot skin.
Matteo points to a gondola now, snapping me out of the delicious memory.
‘There. We do it in there.’
‘Do what? In where?’
‘Look closely.’
My breath hitches in surprise as I home in on a couple floating underneath us in a white gondola. She is wearing a beautiful wedding dress. He is wearing a traditional tux.
‘Couples can get married in the gondolas. I noticed it yesterday. Must be an alternative to the Vegas chapels.’ Matteo smiles at me. ‘If we did go through with it, we’d need to arrange for Luke and Birdie to be on this very bridge as we pass beneath.’
I gulp. It sounds so easy. ‘Our timing would have to be perfect.’
‘And we’d need some wedding clothes,’ he says, pointing at the same couple floating by. ‘Maybe not that fancy but…’
I nod. ‘Yeah. I’m sure my credit card can make room for a cheap wedding dress. Unless we wear the bed sheets and have a toga theme going.’
Matteo smiles. ‘Somehow, I don’t think that will convince them.’
The boats are full of happy couples floating on the canal. Some are getting married and standing in front of wedding officiators, and some are lounging in each other’s arms on a bed of elaborately coloured velvet cushions as they are serenaded with Italian opera. They all have something in common. They are extremely happy and madly in love. Suddenly, part of me really wants this to bereal, not fake. The indecision must show on my face.
‘Hey. Hey.’ He reaches out to stroke my hair gently. ‘If you don’t like it, that’s fine. We’ll think of another way. It was a crazy idea anyway.’
I take a deep breath. Matteo has such a kind face. But we barely know each other. It would be madness to get married for real, then to start dating, then to get to know each other. But he is ridiculously handsome and kind and generous and funny and our sexual chemistry is off-the-charts amazing. What’s the harm in having a practice run?
‘Let’s do it,’ I say. ‘Let’s get fake married.’ I’m sure I can squeeze in a harmless little wedding to our already overfull schedule.
* * *
We almost skip along to meet the others for breakfast, giggling like teenage girls over how to make the fake wedding a reality. There’s a choice of officiators but, for a million reasons, we both agreed Elvis would be the perfect pick. And because we feel the need to act swiftly, without a multitude of strong opinions on everything from our fashion choices (no, no, no, you can’t wear that) to the ceremony itself (no, babes, not there, not like that), we’ve decided not to involve the others in the planning, for fear it will escalate into a celebrity-style wedding with soaring costs and unmanageable expectations, until we’ve done it all and then we’ll tell them. Plus, having to keep it secret has brought a rather exciting frisson to our relationship. We stop talking as we approach the table. The Dollz are already discussing our first performance tonight at the Cocktail Hour Lounge and Bar. No one seems remotely surprised to see Hank Junior being fed long strips of crispy bacon by Liberty. She is making him reach up to gobble at them. He seems helpless to do anything but obey.
After coffee and a pastry, Matteo makes an excuse to leave. He is going off to organise our nuptials. He is going to tell the hotel wedding organisers that we are simply ‘rehearsing’, ready for the real thing. We need everything except the official marriage certificate. I’m still in awe of how easy it all sounds. A shiver of excitement runs up my spine at the thought of fake-marrying Matteo. Of wearing a wedding dress. Of him taking my hand and saying lovely things. Of me gazing into his dark chocolate-coloured eyes and declaring undying love and devotion because, secretly, that is how I feel about him. It sounds ridiculous to fall so hard so quick, but it’s the truth.
‘So, guys,’ I say, snapping back to reality. ‘I’ve posted a new itinerary to the group chat. Basically, today is all about zip-lining for everyone, followed by poolside cabanas for Ged and Liam and Sister Kevin, while we’re doing a soundcheck and getting ready. We do the show from 6p.m. until 7.30p.m. Dinner at 8p.m. Maybe a nightclub at 10p.m. for dancing and cock?—’
‘Speaking of cock,’ interrupts Tash. ‘What are you going to do about Luke at midnight?’
Good question.
‘I’m not sure. I can’t turn up because he’ll think I’m interested. I don’t want to hurt him because we have to maintain some sort of working relationship afterwards, but what else can I do?’
It’s a real conundrum to which everyone seems to have an opinion.
‘You’re right. Don’t go. Send a clear message that you’re not interested. He’s the one putting you under pressure. Don’t feel guilty,’ Big Sue says forcefully.
Tash agrees then immediately contradicts herself. ‘Or you could go and make sure he gets the message that you aren’t interested.’
‘I don’t trust him,’ Ged says, wiping his lips with a napkin. ‘Never have.’
‘It’s awful when you love someone and you can’t tell them,’ Big Mand says, out of nowhere. ‘So I’m not surprised he’s going to such extreme lengths to get your attention.’
