“Ican drive, you know.”
Ben’s arms are braced, his hand on the gear stick, the other on the steering wheel.
“I’m aware of that.”
“So why don’t you let me drive?”
He doesn’t bother to shake his head. “Because you’re a princess.”
I suppress a growl because I know he’s aware I hate being called that. “One who can drive.”
“Again, I know that. But you’re not driving here.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t have to. Look at the scenery. Enjoy having a chauffeur. Plan what you’re going to buy.”
We’re off to a market on the main island next to Jumby Bay, a brief change of scenery that I’ve requested mainly to escape Genevieve and Lennox who’ve taken up residence by the pool and haven’t understood that it’s still a public display of affection if just one person is there. I’ve also had Elise calling to ask how Lennox is and if he seems to be missing her.
“I take it you’re aware of a threat?” This was probably true. Ben was probably planning an escape route and had a boat waiting to go at the other side of this island.
“Media.” He sounds bored.
“Does it matter if they grab a few shots?” Sometimes it was easier, let them have a picture and they’d leave me in peace.
“Yes.” He starts the car, a sleek black thing with tinted windows. It screamslook at me.
“Ben, this is my life. People take photos.”
“I know.”
“So don’t worry too much about the media. I know how to handle them.”
He’s silent, driving us quickly but carefully, knowing where to go without sat nav. I figure he’s been over to the main island a couple of times to recce it out, because Ben is a planner. He’s prepared. Careful.
Thinks more than he speaks.
“You deserve a holiday where you don’t have to think about people taking photos of you.”
“They may do while we’re out.” I know going to the market won’t be as straightforward as it is for most people. Areas will be closed off while I browse, roads secured. Unless he’s braving it and we’re trying to do this anonymously.
I realise that’s exactly what we’re doing when we reach the town and park up next to a car that’s even flashier. I pull on my huge sunhat and glasses, knowing that they anonymise me as well as anything. Ben comes to the passenger side and opens the door, letting me out and shielding me.
He freezes when I pause.
“You look too much like security. It’ll make people stare.”
I see the small nod. “I know.”
“Pretend you’re my boyfriend or husband. Everyone knows I’m terminally single.” I put my hand on his waist and feel him still even more. “Ben, I’m not going to jump you in the street.”
He takes hold of my forearms, brings me closer.
“You think I don’t want that? You think I’m not desperate to feel what your pussy’s like squeezed around my cock? Or finally have you in my bed? It’s fucking torture.”
“So find out.”
His hands are on my waist now, holding me. Firm, rigid. Grounding me. “Look round the market as much as you want. I’ll play whatever part you need. There’s security with us but I’ve told them to keep in the background.”
