I want to kiss her senseless right now, but Jem’s ever-watchful gaze is on us. We’re having a private conversation, and she can’t be bothered topretend to be busy on her computer. No wonder Lexi feels Jem is on to us, or on tosomething. But why? What makes her the relationship police?
Regardless, a kiss would be the perfect move to prove we’re engaged. Never mind that Iwantto kiss Lexi. Ineedto kiss her. I brush my knuckles along her arm and reach for her chin, tilting her face to cover her lips with mine. It’s a short but intense kiss, laden with promises of things to come. And it leaves Lexi speechless.
As I walk off, Jem forces a funny laugh that doesn’t sound natural. “So many private jokes, so many secrets. What are you two planning?” she says, loud enough to make sure I hear her.
Fuck. All I plan is to get it on with my fiancée. So why the hell does Jem make me feel like a criminal?
Chapter Thirty
LEXI
Ihave some time to kill before tonight, and it would be useful to think about something else anyway. Now that the wedding is over, I can refocus on Deshni’s proposal. Sitting at my desk in the office, I open up the proposal file.
Deshni and Sarika are always responsible for the bride and her entourage’s hair and makeup, and I can’t understand why Beaumont isn’t proudly displaying their talents somewhere on the internet. Between everything else these last weeks, I’ve sourced wedding photos directly from some of the couples who’ve been married on Ne’emba. If Beaumont doesn’t care to showcase these women’s talents, I do, and I will. Nothing like an Instagram or TikTok profile with reels and shorts and some breathtaking photos from brides on the beach to upsell what they have here. Hashtags everywhere. When these sisters eventually leave Ne’emba, which they will, this social proof of their skills could be a great springboard for them.
During the quieter times these past few days, I’ve tweaked Deshni and Sarika’s proposal. We’re shaking things up, but I’ll still let the head office know. I’ve inserted some of thebest bridal photos I’ve gathered, suggesting that the Beaumont Ne’emba Island website have a separate page for weddings. The destination is doing well enough that nobody has bothered to include this marketing strategy, but that doesn’t do the sisters any favors.
I’m nervous, though. This needs to be perfect because I want to do Deshni and Sarika’s work justice. They trusted me with this, and I don’t want to let them down. I exhale a slow breath, wishing for a moment alone. Usually Jem calls it a day at this hour, but instead of giving me space, today she’s working on her whiteboard, updating random stuff. I’ll bet she’s hanging around to keep an eye on me. It’s a feeling I’ve had for a few days now, and I don’t like it. I’ve noticed that my screen reflects on the glass panel of the cupboard behind me. Jem’s gaze often latches to that spot beside my head. I’msobeing watched.
Screw it. I open my private email, wanting to check in with Tessa as I do every day. She needs support, and this is the least I can do. If I message her now, I might get her before she goes to bed.
I open up Instagram because that’s where Tessa hangs most of the time and a little thrill runs through me as I spot the green dot telling me she’s online.
Me
What are you up to? Good day?
A message pops back seconds later.
Tessa
Found my stride! Only had to do three re-takes today. It’s a miracle really.
She follows the text up with a photo of her and another actress also playing in the film. They are pulling faces and Ilaugh. She hasn’t only found her stride; she’s found her tribe. My heart pangs a little, not being able to be there, but also happy that Tessa has found a friend who gets what she’s going through.
“What are you laughing about?” Jem asks as she puts down the whiteboard marker.
“Nothing.” I quickly type aGotta goand close the app. I’m basically here to keep an eye on Jem, but the tables have turned. I had no reason to distrust Jem at the beginning, but her recent behavior has me pulling back. I should run this proposal past her—if anybody can give decent input, it would be Jem—but there’s a reason Deshni sidestepped her in this process. Deshni knows Jem better than I ever will. Trust only runs so far for anybody, and once it’s got a crack, well, it’s not so easy to patch things up. Plus, it doesn’t take much for that crack to become a crevice.
“Are you going to check in with the guests tonight before dinner?” Jem asks.
That’s the last thing I have energy for. “Yes,” I assure her.
“I can do that if you want to take an early night,” she offers. “You’ve been going full-on for weeks now, and you’ve got your first wedding behind you, so why don’t you take a break tonight? I’m sure Tristan would be happy too.” At these last words, she turns to me, a smile playing on her lips.
I sink back in my chair. Jem is up to something, but an early night would be wonderful. This work isn’t hard, but it’s constant, and I’m running on fumes—fumes I’d rather save for Tristan. “You don’t mind?” I ask, wishing I could read her mind.
“No. When Don and Miriam were here, I was doing it every second night.”
“You were?”
She shrugs. “They were only here to keep the boat afloat. You’re doing more than that.”
I’m battling for my career here—something Jem doesn’t need to know. I’m here to impress and more. But one night won’t hurt.“If you don’t mind, that would be great.” I sit up and shake my mouse to bring the screen back to life. If this is an option, I have better things to do than sit here in my petri dish. “Let me send this last email, and I’ll call it a day.”
It’s now or never. Ne’emba falls under the Beaumont Tropical Island portfolio, and I address my email to the corporate manager. Then I add Nathan Beaumont for some clout. At least he knows who the hell I am. Now that my mind’s made up, I’m fast. I write the email, attach the proposal, and send it off in a flash.
I switch off my computer and grab my boutique purchase. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
