The pink bag doesn’t offend me. I grip it and wave for her to lead the way. We start to walk, and she thinks she’s going to take the street side until I nudge her over and take her place. There’s not a lot of traffic out at this time of night, but I’ve seen some idiots careen around these corners before.
She shoots me daggers. “You could have just asked me to move instead of shoving me over.”
“I didn’t shove you.” Then, to make peace, I add, “I’ll work on it.”
“I highly doubt that,” she grumbles under her breath.
For a short time, we walk in silence. She has to hurry to keep up with my pace. I’d imagine my height seems daunting and Icould slow down to make it easier for her to stroll alongside me, but the sooner I get her home, the better. This entire situation feels charged, like it’ll go up in flames at any moment. We’re better off staying quiet, but Isabel doesn’t get the memo.
“Just so you know, it’s perfectly obvious you’re one of those people—men, namely—who gets away with everything.”
I shoot her a sidelong glare. “Why do you think that?”
Those green eyes have been studying me since we met, and something tells me she’s come up with quite a few theories about me in the last ten minutes.
“Well, for starters, there’s the way you look.”
Oh, I’d love to hear this.
She sees my amused smile and shakes her head. “We’ll gloss over that. You obviously already know. Besides that, there’s the money and the status and the fact that you clearly enjoy lording over Ibiza like some tyrannical king.” She ignores my crushing look, completely unbothered by it, in fact. “And the way you were up there on the balcony tonight looking down on all of us peasants at your feet—you must get off on it, huh?”
“Get off on it?” I ask, playing naive just to watch her cheeks burn red. The vivid shade stirs something inside me.
We’re near enough to her apartment that she tries to grab her bag from me as punishment for my teasing, but I don’t let her. With our height difference, it’s not hard to keep it out of her reach.
“You know what I mean,” she insists.
“I’m not sure. Describe it.In detail.I saw you watching me tonight.”
Her annoyance melts into a laugh. She only peers up againonce she’s composed herself, shaking her glossy black hair away from her face. She really is stunning.
She points up with one finger. “If you want to keep my pink bag so badly, all you have to do is ask.”
I toss the bag, and she has to think fast to catch it against her chest.
Already, she’s turned away, heading toward the sliding doors of the apartment complex. “Thank you for my walk home! I hope it never happens again!”
I stand rooted to my spot, smiling until I see her disappear into the lobby toward the bank of elevators. Once I’m confident she’s safely home, I walk away practically blushing over how much I enjoyed my first encounter with Isabel De Vere. Soon, I’ll know everything there is to know about her, and I’ll discover the real reason she wants to spend her summer incognito on Ibiza.
Chapter Seven
Isabel
The sun is positioned directly overhead, blazing in a cloudless sky. I’m fused to the towel covering my beach lounger, refusing to open my eyes. It’s Saturday and there’s a big group of us at the beach: Simone and Annika, as well as Ethan, Felix, Mia, and Thalia. We’re soaking in as much playtime as we can before work. Tonight, we have to go in an hour early. It’s Aura’s official summer kickoff party, and there’s a big-name DJ taking the stage at midnight.
A bead of sweat slowly rolls down my neck into my hair. I’ve never been hotter. I’m dying to get up and jump in the sea, but I’m being held hostage.
“Simone! How much longer?” I groan, my face pressed into my towel.
“Do you want a lovely tan or not? One more minute and then we can take a dip!”
One more minute and I’ll shrivel to a burnt crisp.
“No.” Suddenly I’ve had enough. “I can’t do it.”
I sit up and retie my bikini top. To hell with tan lines.
Annika sits up, too. “Yeah, this is miserable. I can’t evengeta tan, so what’s the point of roasting myself in the sun? Elle, you want to swim?”
