‘You look a little anxious, are you OK?’ he asks.
Have I arrived on Love God Island? Both the men I’ve met so far are wildly attractive. The specimen before me is truly heart stopping, like the hero in a romance novel with his ubiquitous thick black locks, dark mysterious eyes, aquiline nose, chiselled jaw, sex appeal galore – you get the drift. I can’t help but feel I’ve seen him before, but how can that be?
I force my brain to engage. ‘Yes, yes, I’m fine. Nothing fresh air won’t fix.’ A quick shot of vodka might help too.
‘Take a seat in the lobby and the staff will bring you a welcome drink. Follow me.’ The guy is commanding in a polite way, as if he’s self-assured, not deferential as staff usually are in a place like this. His authoritative voice is also familiar, but that just cannot be.
He motions towards the seating area. ‘Thank you.’ I fall onto the sofa, sinking into the softness and wishing I could take a nap. While the time difference is not enough to make me suffer any real jetlag, it’s the uncomfortable twenty-four hours in transit and the craziness from the last couple of weeks that’s finally caught up with me.
A staff member appears holding a tray, balancing a colourful drink and a cold frangipani-scented refresher towel. I take the tiny tongs and pick up the towel and dab it on my face. ‘Thank you. This is a luxury after such a long flight.’
The porter smiles and it sends a shot of electricity through me. That or perhaps I am jetlagged and not thinking straight. All I know is that I don’t want any messy romantic entanglements, and I don’t want to lust after a man with sky-high confidence like this hottie is exuding. Supremely confident alpha males are a no from now on, after the whole Fit-fluencer mess. And this guy’s got moody-broody bedroom eyes which, while mesmerising, are also a clear sign he spells trouble with a capital T. No, I need to look for a quiet bookworm type. I mean, I need to forget about men and entanglements that can get me into trouble! I’ll keep myself to myself and that’s that.
‘The refresher towels are scented with aromatherapy oils made locally from frangipani flowers on the island. How long are you staying with us… ah…’
‘Harper.’
‘Harper, right.’ As far as porters go, he’s very personable. Really, he’s a credit to the resort. But his smouldering good looks are a little disarming, and I lose my train of thought and have to mentally backtrack to think of what he asked me. ‘I hope to stay a while. Gus hired me to work at the Barefoot Bookshop.’
For a brief second his affable mask slips but he catches it, and the smile soon returns. What is it about any mention of Gus and the bookshop that provokes a reaction? First Michel the pilot, now the porter. ‘Is Gus around?’
‘No, he’s not.’ The shutters come down and I swear I detect a hint of tension in his tone. ‘I’ll have someone show you to your room. Why don’t you get settled in and we can meet up later to discuss your bookseller role in more detail.’
Why would the porter want to discuss my role in more detail? Unless… ‘What’s your name?’
‘Xavier.’
The owner of the resort and the guy I’m supposed to be wary of because… well, to be determined. But at this stage I’m not ruling out power complexes, or hot-man syndrome. Michel’s warning was annoyingly vague. Is Xavier the guy I heard in the background on the phone interview with Gus? I’m sure it is. I scramble to remember what I overheard, something about an urgent meeting spoken in an abrupt tone. And… now I realise why he’s familiar: I also saw him in side profile on Lucy’s Instagram post, which said something about boy wonder back to claim what’s his.
Xavier clicks his fingers, the ultimate CEO power trip move, and a woman from behind the desk comes running. I shouldn’t speak up about workplace dynamics and respect for women on my first day here but it spills out regardless. ‘Must you click your fingers for attention like that? Especially towards a woman? It comes across as misogynistic.’
The dark depths of his eyes flash. Ooh, this is like just like a confrontation scene in an enemies-to-lovers romance novel! Well, maybe not or that would mean we’re destined to become lovers and that’s not happening. But the moment feels charged, somehow. Decidedly taut. ‘Excuse me?’ his voice is low.
I pretend to be obtuse. ‘You’re excused.’
A smirk plays at his lips but there’s a steely glint in his eyes. I know that look; it means I’m walking on a tripwire here. ‘Welcome, Harper…’ The woman hovers nervously, looking everywhere but at Xavier. ‘I’m Mariola.’
‘Lovely to meet you, Mariola.’
‘Harper is the new hire for the bookshop.’ Xavier’s words are clipped. ‘She’s here strictly on probation.’ He arches a brow as if to say he’s just lobbed the ball back in my court.
Well, game on! ‘Yeah, I’m going to see how the vibe is around here before I commit to staying long term.’
His lips quirk. It’s not obvious enough to be unprofessional, but I’m going to keep a close eye on this guy. Should he be volleying subtle digs my way? I think not.
Mariola frowns. ‘Oh, ah – right. Well, I’m head of staff relations so if there’s anything you need you can come to me.’ I’m relieved Mariola is my point of contact and not the smouldering man mountain beside me.
‘Mariola,’ Mr Impatient cuts in. ‘Take Harper to her room. I’m sure she’d like to freshen up after her travels.’ The infuriating man doesn’t even say please to Mariola!
With one last glittering eye flash, he strides off, as if he’s got more important issues to deal with. How does one learn to do a glittering eye flash like that? I hate to admit it’s quite impressive. Secretly I’m incensed he got the last word in, but it’s probably for the best since I am now practically destitute without any other options, and getting fired before I start wouldn’t be ideal.
The way he powerwalks is alluring and how can that be? The man is toxic masculinity in human form; yes, that human form just so happens to make my legs go jelly-like which is a clear sign that danger lurks… or it could be hangover from the helicopter. I shake away the brain fog, the stupidity clearly caused by the heat and travel fatigue. My life is a shambles, so why not add in some strange attraction to a man who is clearly a tyrant? Honestly, is this some kind of self-sabotage thing? I remind myself that Xavier is a finger clicker and that no one on God’s little green earth likes a finger clicker. It screams of classism.
When he’s safely out of sight, I say, ‘We’ve been dismissed. Tell me, is Xavier always so friendly?’
Mariola smothers a smile. ‘Ah – Xavier is driven. Detail oriented. Ambitious. He’s keen on “future proofing” for the benefit of us all.’
‘Got a stick up his—’ Before I can finish the sentence, Mariola grips my arm and leads me through the plush lobby to the outdoor area.
