“I forgot to add Peeping Tom to your list of character traits.” I pull my T-shirt over my head. I turn with the intention of dropping my clothes in the hamper when I find him standing close.
“Do you leave your door open so he can watch?” His question is a dangerous purr.
“I didn’t leave it open,” I reply, lifting my chin.
“For me or for him?” His eyes move slowly over my face as though reading exactly what his proximity does to me. The way my stomach twists and the needy, empty ache blooming between my legs.
It’s been a minute.
“I’m not talking about Tod,” I reply, pleased my voice sounds steady. “And this is supposed to be a business arrangement.”
“The doorwasopen.”
“It wasn’t an invitation for you to watch.”
His brow suddenly furrows. “My flaws don’t extend to spying on women,” he says, pulling away. “I’m not that kind of dangerous.” The rest he leaves implied.
“If you say so.”
“You packed?”
“What? No,” I add when he peels back his sleeve to glance at his watch.Pointedly.“I’m not on bloody rollerblades!”
“Better get on with it. Don’t forget your passport.”
“What for? Where are we going?” I call, moving after him as he leaves the room.
“We’re having what you might call a destination wedding.”
6
LAVENDER
The flight wassmooth and the jet luxe, all cream leather and polished wood. And the destination, as it turns out, is Gibraltar.
I’m a first-time visitor, and the things I know about Gibraltar wouldn’t fill the back of a postage stamp. I know it’s a tiny bit of Spain that technically isn’t Spanish but a British overseas territory. I was still oddly amused to see an old-fashioned red telephone box as we whizzed by in our chauffeur-driven Mercedes. If I’d been here with Tod, we would’ve snapped a few pics for Instagram.
Anyway, I know the place has a rock and monkeys, and as of a few hours ago, I also know you can get married here in a hurry.
I arch my back and stretch as I keep my eyes on the vista, ignoring the voices jabbering behind me. Raif, his lawyer, and the two older men who were already at the villa when we arrived speak a language I don’t understand.
It sounds vaguely Spanish, but it isn’t Spanish. I studied the language for a couple of years at high school, not that Iremember much more thantengo dieciséisaños;I am sixteen years old, which I’m obviously not anymore.
But I’m sure I’ll remind my family of that girl when I waltz back with a new husband.
Reckless. Wild. No impulse control—that girl will get herself into trouble!
I’m pretty sure some of them still see me that way.
Just think of the money,I tell myself.
Ignoring the tense-sounding conversation, I leave the cool of the villa and cross the brilliant white-tiled terrace. I wish I’d worn something other than these heavy Doc Marten boots because the glass-edged infinity pool is calling to my sweaty little toesies.
When I’d pressed Raif on where we were actually going, he’d muttered something about sunshine. So I’d shoved very few clothes and my toiletries into my rucksack before pulling on a pair of slouchy socks and my trusty boots. It had felt like a statement rather than a good choice for the climate.
These boots are made for kicking butt! Though it’s mostly bravado.
The money,my mind whispers again.Don’t look at your handsome husband because you know what happens to your body when you do.
