We are thrilled to welcome you to the grand opening of Opal Serenity here in Aruba. Your chemistry and newly found love is what we want our guests to experience during a romantic getaway or a honeymoon here. We hope that you can find relaxation and passion this weekend.
Please join us for a welcome ceremony at 6:00 p.m. tonight.
Your friends,
Opal Serenity
I read it once, then twice, before dropping the letter onto theplush white carpet. Words stuck out in my mind like drops of honey: chemistry, romantic, passion.
I pressed my palms to my eyes. “Why is this happening to us?”
They must have seen the video of us yelling at each other, but why would that lead them to assume we were in love? They should assume the opposite. Despite the screams inside my head, I picked up on the absolute silence from Noah.
I removed one hand to glance at him. “How are you so calm right now? From now until we leave, we have to convince them we’re in love.”
“It’s only three days.”
I faltered, having just realized something else. Something that would dramatically impact the rest of our stay and work at Opal Serenity.
“I guess,” I said, but my voice sounded watery. “They only want me here because they think I’m your girlfriend.”
I saw concern hidden in his yellow-green irises, in the way his brows pinched ever-so-slightly. It should be comforting, but it only made me more upset. The last thing I wanted from anyone, especially Noah, was pity. “Macey, that’s not true.”
I stood so suddenly I almost knocked over the coffee table. “I need to get ready for the welcome ceremony. As the girlfriend in this fake relationship, I think it’s only fair that I get the bedroom.”
Then I bolted before he could respond and—more importantly—before he could see the tears that threatened to leak out of my eyes.
“Do you think it’s too?—”
“Short?”
“No—”
“Tight?”
“N—”
“Boob-y?”
“Red,” I snapped. “Too red. But thanks for telling me how you really feel.”
When traveling, I always followed the cardinal rule: carry a spare outfit in your carry-on. Unfortunately, this outfit was one of Britney’s dresses. I hadn’t thought twice about it at the moment, fully confident that my luggage would make it with me to Aruba. That was what happened when you got too comfortable, though—something inevitably went wrong.
Noah shrugged. “What can I say? I’m an honest boyfriend.”
I tucked my key and tube of lipstick into a black clutch, side-eying him. Of course he was the picture of ease and confidence tonight. White button-down tucked into black, form-fitting dress pants. His classic leather jacket was folded over the dining chair, where I assumed it would stay tonight. “An honestfakeboyfriend,” I corrected.
After collapsing onto the king-size bed and avoiding a complete breakdown by the narrowest of margins, I got ready for the welcome ceremony in the bathroom. Besides the dress, I only had spare mascara and red lipstick in my carry-on bag. My hair was still messy from the plane ride, so I attempted to finger-comb it, only to give up and pin it to the back of my head.
There was no dress code for the welcome ceremony, but panic had already settled in. What if it was secretly a black-tie event? What if everyone showed up in Louboutins and all I had was two-year-old kitten heels?
“Well,” I muttered, giving my reflection one last doubtful glance. “Good thing they invited me for my pretty words and not my wardrobe.”
I turned to leave the suite, but Noah’s hand closed over mine,gently tugging me back. When I glanced at him, his gaze was already trailing down to where our fingers intertwined. Before, when I’d asked for his opinion, I’d barely noticed his eyes on me, too focused on the uncomfortable dress riding up my thighs, but now, his eyes moved upward, pausing for a heartbeat too long on the neckline of the dress. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and for a moment, something dark and smoldering flickered in his expression—desire, unmistakable and raw.
“Your words are pretty,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “but you’re even prettier.” It wasn’t a compliment; it was a fact, delivered with absolute certainty.
Then, like he’d realized he was holding fire, he dropped my hand, the absence of his touch sharper than I expected. His fingers brushed the door handle, but not before he added with a small, almost-gruff smile, “Red suits you.”
