He runs his hands through his hair, pushing it back off his face. “It was in Papeete, in Tahiti. I met Larry the last time I was there to check on the progress of the build, and we got talking. I liked him, so I asked him if he could be my driver when I visit from time to time, and he said yes. I emailed him when I knew I was coming here, and so he flew in from Papeete to meet me.”
“You own a private jet and a yacht?”
“Wehave a private jet, and it’s a luxury yacht.” He emphasizes thewe. “What’s mine is yours.”
“A yacht makes it sound super fancy.” Nerves swim around my throat, causing me to scoff because we don’t even have a prenup. Not that I want anything from him. I have my own house and car. It’s not as fancy as Leon’s, but I worked my ass off to buy them. “You don’t have to call them mine. I didn’t work to achieve them.”
“Your last name is now Hill, which means, as my wife, everything I have is yours. Now that you’re my wife, I’d love for you to come to as many of the events I am invited to that your schedule allows. I also want you to sleep between shifts too, though. I know how grouchy you get with no sleep.”
I bask in his confidence, reveling in his open confidence, granting me access to everything in his life, when all I want is him, body, mind, soul, and heart.
“Think of my yacht, my jet, my house, and my seven cars as compensation—to apologize for being a workaholic. Also, I will ask for your forgiveness in advance because I’ve lived alone for a very long time. So if I leave the toilet seat up, my underwear on the floor, or the lid off the toothpaste, I will try harder. I promise.”
“You’re ridiculous.” I lean over and kiss him on the lips. He’s the tidiest man I know, and his house is immaculate to the point that it doesn’t even look like anyone lives in it.
That reminds me.
“Are you still serious about me moving in with you?” I hope so. Now that we are married, it makes sense.
“I am.”
“And if you leave the toilet seat up, I can ask for your plane?”
“You learn fast.”
“I don’t need a plane.” All I want is him. “We might need a prenup, though.”
“Why?” He jerks, as if he’s taken aback at my comment.
“What if we get divorced? I want something in writing that says I don’t want any of your assets.”
“We’re not getting divorced,” he growls, his mood turning slightly sour. “And we are definitely not getting a fucking prenup because we don’t need one, and I don’t want to hear any more of this shit talk. You hear me?”
I rest my hand on his shoulder to calm him, my touch working instantly. “I was only thinking about you. Getting hitched in a hurry made us cut out a lot of steps.”
“I would never ask you to sign a prenup. Don’t ever mention it again.” He shakes his head vehemently.
“Okay,” I agree because he looks hurt. I would never screw Leon over. That’s not in my nature, and I have money. Not as much as Leon, but I have savings, and most of my trust fund, which I received when I was twenty-one.
“What’s mine is yours, yeah?”
“And what’s mine, and all of me, is yours, Leon.”
He pulls me in for another kiss because we can’t stop touching each other. “What a pair of soppy fools we’ve become,” he breathes against my lips.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Leon
Moving through the living area of our suspended water bungalow, our home for the next two weeks, I toss my towel onto the sun lounger as I pass through the open sliding doors.
I stride toward our private pool tucked away in the corner of our cool teak-floored deck that overlooks the blue ocean below us and looks like sparkling liquid crystal.
With only the sound of the waves lapping gently against the stilts below, keeping us hovering above the ocean, it’s rhythmic and steady, as if it’s the heartbeat of the island.
What a fucking life.
