I don’t accompany Matthias to his room, as the porter already has his luggage and knows the drill. At St Chalamet there was always a person one level up who could deal with creepy guests, but here, I’m the one in charge. What do I do when someone comes on tome?
Back in my office, I distract myself by working on Deshni’s proposal, but by five o’clock I’m tired, I have period cramps in full force, and I only want to call it a day. Some guests are going on a sunset cruise, though, and I need to see them off. Other guests will stay and have drinks on the beach, and I need to be present for them until dinner. Without a doubt, Matthias de Foch will be there, trying to rope in his fun for the night.
I could tell him it’s that time of the month. He probably wouldn’t care. And then he’d probably come on to other staff. I look over at Jem’s desk, which is empty. No help is comingfrom that side. She’s gone home for the night, as it isn’t her role to look after guests after five in the afternoon. My thumb slides over my engagement ring’s white-gold band, and for some reason, I find the courage to deal with the next couple of hours.
Ten minutes later I’m in conversation with a honeymooning couple from France who arrived two days ago, when I see Tristan coming up from the dive center. He looks deep in thought, but as he sees me, his gaze softens and he smiles. In a second, the whole fiasco from this morning flashes in my mind’s eye—as it has throughout the day at the most inappropriate of times, making me hot and bothered, as if the weather wasn’t enough. I blush so profusely, I drop my gaze.
I don’t usually see Tristan at this time of day. In fact, the only times we see each other are early mornings and late at night, and somehow, until this morning, we’d managed it in such a way that one of us was always asleep—or faking being asleep.
He reaches my side and takes my hand. “Mind if I steal Lexi for a second here?” he asks the guests, who raise their cocktails to him as a go-ahead.
Tristan tugs me out of earshot but doesn’t let go of my hand. “Are you okay?” he asks. He’s so close I can smell the post-dive shower on him.
“I’m good.” I don’t feel great, though, and if I had a choice, I’d go for the lie down I’ve needed since lunch. Somehow, with the heat, this period is hitting me harder.
He reaches up and brushes his thumb over my cheek. I’m not sure if it’s for show, but I lean into his touch. “Are you sure?” he asks. “You look tired.”
My body tingles with the delicious warmth of his skin, so welcome after every other warped thing today. I quietly hate myself for being weak, female, and practically obsessed with the part of Tristan Martinelli I can never have.
“I am, and—” My hand moves to my lower belly, right where the Advil I took earlier is making a sub-par difference.
Tristan’s fingers slide to the nape of my neck as he leans closer to murmur in my ear. “Babes? Do you need a warm water bottle and a rest?” He pulls his face just far enough away to peer into my eyes.
I blink. How does he know that’s exactly what I want? “The guests?—”
“I’m here. All those eager night divers cancelled on me for tonight, so I’ll look after the guests. No problem.”
It’s not in his job description, but… I look over his shoulder as Matthias de Foch steps closer to us, just out of Tristan’s peripheral vision.
“So this is your fiancé?” Matthias asks. “The dive master?”
Tristan drops his hand from my cheek, and the comfort of his touch is gone. He turns towards Matthias. I knew Tristan was tall, but seeing him next to Matthias, measuring probably an inch taller, makes my heart skip a beat.
“Yes, hi. Tristan Martinelli.” Tristan has his hand out to shake, and Matthias returns the gesture, but his eyes are on me.
“You’re quite the couple, aren’t you?” Matthias says, and my pulse stutters as his eyes move over my body, this time lower—to the hem of my mini skirt, which suddenly seems indecently short. “Don’t mind if I do.”
“Excuse me?” Tristan shrugs off Matthias’s hand and takes mine in his again, this time with a protective squeeze.
Matthias still doesn’t meet Tristan’s gaze but keeps staring at me. “The decision usually lies with the lady, so… You talk it through, and…well, you know which room I’m in. We can have a fun time together before the rest of the wedding party arrives.”
With that, he gives Tristan’s biceps an encouraging pat and turns away. He walks straight up to the waiter with a tray of colorful cocktails, picks one, and continues to the boat whereguests are being helped on board by Mike and another staff member.
Tristan’s hand is stiff and squeezes mine hard. “What the actual fuck was that?”
“A proposition, Tristan.” I close my eyes and cling to his hand. “It was a proposition for a threesome. His place. Tonight.”
Tristan shudders. “What the fuck? Does this really happen?”
“Evidently it does here, too.” I gulp, suddenly overwhelmed as I glance around the now emptying beach. The guests are almost all gone. “Now I know why they only employ couples.This.Thisis why.”
“I’ve never come across anything?—”
“Of course you’ve never come across something like this. You don’t work in the hospitality industry.”
“Wait—what?” Tristan turns sharply toward me, his eyes peering into mine like they did minutes ago, though this time they’re stern, concerned…angry. “This has happened to you before?”
“Obviously. When I worked as a guest services agent, at least once every two weeks.”
