23
SAMANTHA
As we descend towards Hawaii and the islands become visible in the blue waters, I try to work out what is real and what is not.
Things are getting a bit out there, and it’s hard to know what to feel about, well, everything.
I’ve always imagined I could help Mom pay off her apartment.
But I’d always thought it would require the endless grind of saving for weeks and months over the next decade.
Or maybe some shares I’d buy in tech companies would do well. Not that I’d gotten any, yet. Mom’s mortgage is $120,000, so the white lie or fake engagement would be put to good use. And at least I didn’t have to screw him for money.
Not that I’d mind.
In saying that, I do still want him, even if he’s getting a bit intense under the pressure. And all this, after the perfect evening in the gown and with just us. Us and finally getting to know each other.
I side-eye him as he flies us down towards the island in the Pacific. He is good, I’ll give him that. He commands the private jet with ease, which makes me remember how he commanded me.
But instead of landing a ten or twenty-million-dollar plane with perfection, he had made me come on him. And he had made me come on his fingers to perfection again, and again, and again.
“What?” he asks, catching me looking at him.
“Nothing,” I say, lying. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“Coming.”
“What?
“I mean, coming to Hawaii.”
He looks back at me, and I’m unsure if he bought it. Gulping, I lecture myself.
After landing,the idea of sun and surf fires me up. Being cooped up in the cockpit had taken its toll.
I am expecting a hotel or some kind of borrowed home after an SUV drive, but as often, Harry pulls one out of the bag.
From his jet, we are ushered to a luxury chopper.
A ten-minute flight takes us to another island around a mountain. We then bank over the most stunning green retreat and touch down in some wickedly remote hideaway.
We thank the pilot, and we are quickly shown to our rooms. I am fast to yank on my black bikini bottoms.
Before I can be stopped by the grumpy fun police, I run down the grass and onto the sand. I dive into the water and gasp at its clarity. I catch my breath, and it feels a million miles away from scary LA. Likely because it is.
It takestwenty minutes for my husband-to-be to find me, and he is not overly excited.
“Come on, let’s go! We need to get down to business.”
Harry realizes I’m swimming topless, and he turns away fast. “Please put something on.”
“No way,” I say, walking back up towards the recliners.
As we reach them, I lie on the one with my towel already laid out.
Harry turns away from me, trying to avoid my chest. It must be hard, but too bad. I need a rest from the chaos, and I need to relax.
