A stab of jealousy followed by guilt hits me, and I shake them both off as I stand.
She dips her chin and gestures toward the en-suite bathroom with a slight, deferential wave.
Right. Bathroom. Shower.
God, yes.
Inside, the bathroom looks like something out of a spa ad—natural stone, chrome, and luxurious towels soft enough to feel like silk and strong enough to count as body armor.
What really catches my attention, though, are the toiletries.
Feminine. Expensive. Clearly new.
There’s a hint of peony and fig in the air as I lather up and let the hot water chase the exhaustion from my body.
When I step back out, towel-draped and alert, the girl is still waiting—holding out a cup of rich Greek coffee and a flaky pastry on a porcelain plate.
“This is perfect. Thank you,” I murmur, surprised by how grateful I feel.
She nods, then points out the window, where sunlight sparkles off the sea.
“Hey, can I use the beach?”
“Miss?”
“The beach? To swim?”
“Of course, there is beach access just down the path, if you would like to swim. There will be an escort, of course.”
“Mr. Stavros?”
She shakes her head politely.
“He is working. He will return for dinner.”
Of course he will.
Marriage of convenience, my ass.
I sip the coffee and eat the pastry—it’s absurdly delicious. I check my phone, sending one text to tell all and sundry that I am perfectly fine and well.
I even send a proof of life picture, as Mom calls them, of me with my breakfast.
Once I finish eating, I start digging through the rest of my bags from my shopping spree with Mom, Aunt Destiny, Lucy, and Leanna.
Apparently, Atlas had all of it brought along. I suppose I should be annoyed by the possessive efficiency of that, but instead, I’m relieved.
One of Lucy’s picks—a gorgeous espresso-brown bikini—catches my eye.
I normally steer away from two-pieces with my curves, but Lucy insisted, and right now?
I’m so glad she did.
The top is sleek, the kind with thin straps and an easy hook. The bottoms are high-cut, Brazilian style, designed to show off legs and confidence in equal measure.
It’s scandalous.
And perfect.
