“Just look at us. She’s Indian, and I’m African. Her parents want her to marry into an established Indian family in Dar es Salaam. I understand why. They’ve got money.” He wipes hisface with both hands. “But I can’t stop feeling about her the way I do. The heart walks its own path. Alone.”
Fuck. I now feel like an ass. I’m faking an engagement while this poor guy can’t live his life with the woman he’s clearly besotted with.
For a moment we both sit and digest the situation, and then he turns to me. “Tell me what’s going on with you and Lexi.”
“With me and Lexi? We’re good. Eventually we’re going to get married.” I’ve vowed to never get married, but Roger doesn’t need to know that.
“Are you?” Roger asks. “When you arrived, it looked like you were here to try to patch things up.”
What? Really?“No. What made you think that?”
“Pfft,” Roger harrumphs. “I see a lot of couples come and go on this island and—” He breaks off with a shrug.
“What?” I feel stripped naked. This guy has a level of intuition I didn’t anticipate. “We’re good. We’re really good.”Jesus Christ. Did I have to repeat myself there?Defending my fake relationship with Lexi is my only choice, but if Roger has already smelled a rat, how many other staff are looking at us with narrowed eyes, studying our every move?
“Whatever. When you arrived, you were awkward. Something’s not right.” Roger meets my gaze. “I hope you didn’t cheat on her, because?—”
“Hell, no!” I’m not sure when this conversation slipped off this slope but—“I’ll never cheat on her, or on any woman, for that matter.” I’ve lived through enough of that shit and its repercussions to last me a lifetime. Love is destructive. I’ve been in the eye of that storm. If you love someone, really love them, you keep your fucking distance. The best way to do that is avoid committed relationships in the first place, like I’ve managed to do for years. Except now I’mengaged—to Lexi, of all people. How did that happen again?
“Good, I’m glad to hear it.” Roger stands, and I get up too, a bit shaken. “I hope you’re going to go through with what that ring she wears means. You’re lucky to have the right to even ask her. That’s a blessing I’ll never have.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
LEXI
After talking to Deshni for over an hour, I barely had time for a bite to eat. I wanted to take a breather after lunch, but I’ve had zero luck with that. All I managed was to race back to our cottage for a sanitary check-in and a five-minute crawl under the bed to locate my MIA wand. I found it in my bedside drawer, battery dead and charger misplaced.
I’m trying not to be embarrassed by the whole situation. Housekeeping now knows about my toy. So what? During my student days as a cleaner, I came across enough situations to write a book. But still… I’m supposed to be freshly engaged, in love, and in no need of help in that department.
With a shrug, I head out to the beach to meet Matthias de Foch, some rich tech guy from Amsterdam, who comes to Ne’emba at least three times a year. The fact that he’s single this time is apparently noteworthy, and for his sister’s wedding of all things.
I can spot trouble a mile away, and in the case of Matthias de Foch, red lights and sirens erupt in my head as soon as he clambers out of the floatplane. I know his type: rich and notnecessarily by his own efforts. Often generational wealth serves as a springboard to greater wealth. And with that comes a sense of entitlement and arrogance that nothing can peg down a notch.
Inwardly I groan, even as I plaster on a smile. “Welcome to Ne’emba Island. We’re so glad you’re back?—”
“You’re new! Thank God. Where’s that wilted old couple who ran the show a couple of months ago?” Matthias’s eyes travel over my face and lower to my breasts as if I came with the room he’s booked.
“Miriam and Don left at the beginning of January. I’m Lexi O’Reilly, the new manager here.” I reluctantly hold my hand out, and he engulfs it in his own big, strong, beautifully manicured hand. Of course Matthias de Foch is nothing but tall and gorgeous, with blond hair streaked with sunlight and blue eyes so piercing, it’s like staring into the heart of a glacier. His smile is perfect, but those über-whites glint in the sun like a wolf’s fangs.
Yep, in my experience, he’s the type who would ask for two room keys when checking in, even if he’s staying as a single, only to hand one key back to the dumbstruck receptionist with five hundred dollars folded around it. The first time someone solicited sex from me like that, it took several minutes to sink in—and several more after that to recover.
“Great,” he says. “I could use some company until the others arrive.”
Keeping you company isn’t in my job description.“Eh…” Oh, God.Help.Miles, I tell myself.I have miles on me now.I can deal with this.
“Do you dive?” he asks.
“No, I run the hotel.” I pull my hand free from a hold that has become all too long and insinuating. “Myfiancémanages the dive center.”There. Eat that, you swine.
At this, Matthias’s eyebrow hitches up. “Great. I look forward to meeting him.”
I bet you do.I lead the way to the general guest area and fake-smile at him. “I suppose I don’t need to show you around, since you’ve been here so many times.”
“Yes, I have.” He leans closer, so close chills sprout down my spine as he whispers in my ear, “Send someone over with the good stuff, will you. Even better, bring it yourself and we can get to know each other better.” He salutes as the steps away.
What the hell?The good stuff?He just flew in from Amsterdam where you can get pot and whatnot on every street corner. He should have sorted himself out before coming here. Nobody on this island is growing their own weed…not under Jem’s watch.
I curse quietly as I watch him walk off.What an asshole.I should have said something immediately once he suggested we hang out, but I was too stumped for words. And I hate that Jem was right. I might have miles on me, but she has more—and earned them working on this small island for thirty years. Just goes to show, size doesn’t always matter.
