She aimed a wide smile at him. Pretty like the wings of a butterfly and just as flighty, still dressed in white as my bride.
After our dance, the boat makes its way to the dock in Bellagio. It stops to drop off the majority of the passengers. There are more hotels there, and they amble up the steps. I spend the last few minutes talking with my mother. She’s in high spirits. She loves celebrations, and people, and being seen.
The boat stops back at Villa Egeria, and the rest of the guests get off. Paige is laughing with my sister. I wonder if anyone else can hear the tension in her forced mirth.
I thank the captain for the excellent work and hand him anenvelope with a large tip to be divided amongst the crew. The boat sets off again, heading toward its homeport.
My family and friends walk up toward the house. Everyone except Paige. She remains standing on the dock.
She leans precariously against the weathered stone lion, staring at me like we’re in a cage fight. I never, ever want to see her in one. But there’s no doubt in my mind that she would be fierce.
“Are you going to stay out here all night?” I ask. My voice comes out sharper than it should.
She’s made an assumption. It’s not a correct one, but it’s not like I can tell her the truth either.
“Why not? You’ve broken the deal. I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you.”
I take a step closer, my hands spread wide. “Look, I haven’t slept with anyone since I met you. I haven’t fuckingkissedanyone since you sent me that first email. Why can’t you trust me on that? This is not a hickey.”
“Trustyou?”
My jaw flexes. “Yeah. I heard how that sounded.”
“You’ve made it clear that you don’t trust me,” she says. “Why wouldn’t I do the same for you?”
Damn it. There’s so little between us that’s real, and I can’t give her this. I can’t give her the truth, because no one can know.
It can never get out.
Not to my team, my executives, my investors, my designers. My family. The media or the public. There’s a reason the fights are underground, with regulated entry and damn near capital punishment for bringing a phone or camera.
“That’s what I thought.” She steps out of her high-heeled shoes. Sky-high and sharp, just like her. “You couldn’t keep your dick in your pants for a fewweeks?”
“I’m not an idiot. I don’t want to risk this being revealed as a sham marriage either.”
“Who is she? Is she someone who works for you? Or is it many someones? Do you pick up women in bars?” She reaches for her ponytail and tugs it out, leaving her hair a golden mane around her. “Thisconcernsme, Montclair, and my interests, and yet you won’t tell me the truth.”
“I’m not fucking around.” Frustration seeps into my voice. I see her bare skin beneath my hands on that massage table and feel her in my arms. “You saw me this morning. I woke uphard.Does that seem like someone who gets laid regularly?”
“Then tell me you got that hickey on your own. Tell me you tripped, or it’s a burn mark, or anything. Just tell me someone else didn’t do that.” She points at my neck.
And I can’t tell her that.
It would be a lie, and for whatever reason, I can’t bring myself to look at her and give her something false.
Her eyes spark. It’s not the anger she’s shown me before. This is a fiercer kind, a more uncontrollable version. “I’m too hot,” she declares. “I think I’m going for a swim.”
I want to strangle her. “Paige, it’s past midnight.”
“You’re excellent at keeping time. But then again, your family basically invented the wristwatch.” She grabs the zipper of her dress and pulls it down, the sound cutting through the air like a ricocheting bullet. “Good thing it’s dark out here.”
“You’renotskinny dipping in the lake. There are people everywhere.” I take a step forward. “Listen to me, Wilde.”
“Why should I?” She shimmies out of the dress. It drops to the stone dock, and she steps past it, clad in only her lingerie.
This is becoming a terrible habit.
She reaches behind her and undoes her bra, then lets it drop the ground. My hands tighten at my sides.
