“A woman doesn’t need to wear a ring to stop a guy hitting on her. Learn some damn respect. She wasn’t interested, and yet you came over, touched her, and stared at her body like she’s a piece of meat.”
“Yeah, but did you see her tit?—”
She shoves the guy into the other one. “I will knock you spark out,” she snaps. I swear she could destroy him if she wanted. I’d love to watch that.
“You don’t speak about my wife like that. Are we clear?” I say hoarsely.
“Are we clear?” she repeats, folding her arms and scowling. It’s like a gang of giddy butterflies are performing to the Greek music inside my belly as I revel in her attitude.
I need to distract myself from how attractive she is. As a result of my months of isolation, I’m not haggard, but I won’t be voted Racing’s Most Eligible Bachelor anymore. And she’s much younger than me.
“When it comes to her ring: my beautiful wife swam earlier, so I kept it safe.” I slip off the chain with the ring on from around my neck and pass it to my fake wife. “Here you go, baby.”
As her hand brushes mine, my fingers tingle. I hold my breath, waiting to freak out, but I’m doing okay. Eight months without human contact has me longing for more. I help her with the clasp. She shivers as my trembling fingers graze her skin.
My chain around her neck makes my belly somersault. I worry if she has germs that she could pass on to my belongings, but the chance to rescue her makes me feel a tiny bit like the old me.
“That’s a man’s ring, and she’s not wearing it on her finger,” the guy says. They’re too astute for drunk horny men. “She’s not your wife, and she’s what, ten years younger than you? You must be thirty-five.”
“I’m nearly thirty-one.”
“This is my husband, Liam. I like older men, so fuck you.” Her full lips get impossibly plumper when she smiles. “We met on holiday a year ago when I rescued him from drowning. I dragged him out of the water, and he moaned like a baby, but not because he was rescued by a woman, which you pricks would moan about.”
She pokes one of the men in the chest, and the purple beads of her friendship bracelet shine under the fairy lights. I try to read it.
Belle?
“Why did he moan?” the stockier one asks.
“Because he’d split his shorts. His monster dick hung out. It was love at first sight—love for his dick.”
This woman! I’m living one of the most bizarre moments of my life, and I’m loving it.
“He’s also rich,” she adds.
“She’s right. I am.” I check my shorts and sliders, but they don’t reveal I’m a real-life millionaire. I’ve tried to keep incognito while hiding in my Greek villa these past eight months—as incognito as a famous F1 driver who nearly died in a high-speed crash before catching a virus that almost killed him can be.
“I had to get to know this rich man. Then he won me over with his personality. He made me this bracelet, although he spelt my name wrong. He changed the last letter intentionally. He said I resembled a Disney princess when I saved him from the water. The guy is obsessed with Disney princesses.”
“You do. Your eyes are massive, Bell…a,” I say, guessing her name. I haven’t watched Disney princess movies since I ran my little sister’s doll over with my go-kart when I was nine. I can’t stand them.
This is my first face-to-face conversation with someone with an English accent in months. My longing for home,especially after the call with my sister, pulls me towards the airport. But the fear of returning to my family still snags on my fears.
“So with his big dick, lots of money, and amazing personality, I fell in love. And now we’re going to our huge villa to fuck for hours because that’s what people do on their honeymoon. I’m his forever and always.”
My lips quirk.
“Once you’ve learned to chat to women, maybe you can have that, too,” she adds. “But in the meantime, fuck off.”
And with that, she grabs her bag and grips my hand.
I freeze. I didn’t think I’d hold anyone’s hand again. My body shakes, and I panic about germs and illness, but she doesn’t notice as she drags me towards the villas.
My heart thuds and my vision fuzzes slightly as I look back. The jerks remain unmoving, mouths hanging open.
Nausea grips my belly, and I take quick breaths. My head is swimming, and instead of pulling away, I grab her hand tighter in case I fall.
Someone is holding my hand! The sanitiser is in my pocket, and it would be rude to yank my arm away and use it. We need to pretend we’re married, but it’s like germs are crawling over my skin.
