“Hey, bitches,” I say. “Get a good look at my terrace! And check out that pool! I’m going to sunbathe topless tomorrow. Try to stop me.”
I wink and then laugh as I imagine their reaction when they see the video. They won’t believe I’d do it. I’m sure of that.
But do I have the courage?
What would Slayer have to say about it? Would he be angry, possessive, like Milo suggested on the plane?
Slayer. I take a deep breath. He did a good job of playing the doting boyfriend in the lobby—too good, if I’m being honest. That kiss felt...real. But what happens when he comes upstairs to our room?
And speaking of our room, does our suite have more than one bed? That could be quite awkward. I dart around, opening doors, and am relieved to find two identical bedrooms on either side of the living room. Even better, each bedroom has its own bath.Well, that’s a relief.
Or is it?Hilary used to read romance novels where two attractive strangers got snowed in and had to share a night in a hotel where there was only one bed. They were usually married with a kid on the way before the ice melted.
I jump at a sound and turn, startled to find Slayer by the door.How long has he been standing there?
He looks at me, sunglasses off now, but eyes still unreadable.
“Band meeting canceled,” he says, setting down his bag. “Drummer’s stuck in customs and won’t be out until after lunch.”
“Oh.” I stand awkwardly in the middle of the living room. “I was just exploring.”
“Find anything interesting?” He strolls to the bar and examines the selection of liquor.
“Two bedrooms. We don’t have to share.”
He glances at me, that half-smile returning. “Disappointed?”
My cheeks burn. “No! I just— We barely know each other, and?—”
“Relax, Bix. I’m messing with you.” He pours himself a drink. “Want one?”
“No, thanks.” I cross my arms, then uncross them, unsure what to do with myself. “About what happened downstairs?—”
“The kiss?” He takes a sip, watching me over the rim of his glass. “That was for Maurice. And the girls by the pillar with their phones out. And Sterling.”
“Right. Of course.” I nod.
“Why? Did you think it was something else?” There’s a challenge in his eyes now.
“No.” Then, because I can’t help myself, I add, “But you could have warned me.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He sets his glass down and steps closer. “Besides, your surprised face sells it better than any rehearsed performance.”
“Is that industry wisdom or personal experience talking?”
“Both.” Another step closer. “You’re not bad at this, you know. The girlfriend act.”
“High praise from the Dark Prince himself.”
He winces slightly. “Don’t call me that.”
“It’s what everyone calls you.”
“Not you.” His voice drops lower. “Not here.”
Something in his tone makes me shiver, despite the room’s perfect temperature. “What should I call you then? Sam?”
“Slayer is fine,” he says after a long silence.
