In the three days, Mills and I have beenpretending,my business socials have exploded. My inbox is filled with requests for reservations and quotes. If this keeps up, I’m going to have to double my staff and hire someone to manage my bookings. And my personal DMs are even messier. Countless women offering me everything and anything I want.
It’s just about the money, right?
Is she paying you? It’s okay if she is—I get it.
Hit me up when you get back to NY. Maybe we can get together.
And then there’s Paige.
Since that video of me kneeling in front of Millie in the hotel lobby hit TikTok, she’s been texting me non-stop.
Paige: I miss the way you fuck me.
Paige: Allister is so boring. Thiswas a mistake.
Paige: I never should have gotten involved with him.
Paige: I never meant for any of this to happen.
Paige: You’ve made your point, Mercer. Come home so I can make it up to you.
Paige: You know you miss my pussy.
Every time she texts me, she gets the same answer as the women in my DMs.
I send her a picture of Millie.
I’ve been taking them on the sly, almost nonstop, over the last few days. Pictures of Millie swimming in the ocean. Sitting on the back of a horse after our ride on the beach. Walking toward me across the crowded hotel lobby. Lounging in our private cabana on the beach. She doesn’t know I’m taking them, which makes me feel like a weirdo stalker, but I don’t really care. The last picture I sent her was of Millie sleeping. From the angle, it was obvious we were in bed together. That was yesterday morning, and she hasn’t texted me since and I can’t say I’m sad about it. Matter of fact, it’s a goddamn relief.
This morning, I didn’t wake up first.
I woke up alone.
Sure Millie is in the bathroom or maybe made it out to the deck before me, I listen hard for signs of life. I don’t hear anything. Sitting up, I aim a look out the open sliders at the deck where breakfast is already waiting. Millie isn’t there either.
She’s gone and the note I find tucked under my phone confirms it.
I don’t want to pretend today.
Cancelled zip lining and our dinner reservations.
You’re free to do as you please.
Millie
p.s. I’d like you to return this, please.
Next to the watch is the anklet I bought her and fucked everything up over.
Goddamnit.
Swiping my phone off the nightstand I look at the time. It’s after 10AM.
How the fuck did that happen?
Pulling up my texts, I tap out a message and hit send.
Me: Where are you?
