Younger? I’m twenty-five.
“It’s only a few weeks, Elias.”
“It’s LA, things change overnight. Besides,” he pauses to nip at my earlobe, “I booked us a trip to stay in an over-the-water bungalow in Bora Bora.”
I squeal, unable to containmy excitement. “Really?”
“Really. You said you’ve always wanted to go.”
“I didn't see the manipulation, which was foolish. I was twenty-five; I should’ve been smarter,” I admit. “He was using everything to his advantage. Twisting the truths until they favored him.”
Jett’s watching again. Only this time, his eyes are glossy.
We fly to Bora Bora a few days later on the agency’s private jet, where Elias convinces me to join the Mile High Club. It’s a dream, or so I think, until we land.
Bora Bora is the real dream. The photos on the internet don’t do this island justice.
We step into the overwater villa, and I feel like I’m transported to another life. I watch as the turquoise water laps beneath the glass floor panels. We spend the first day doing nothing but touching, laughing, and drinking champagne out of bottles.
“I told you, baby,” Elias says, sprawled naked across the outdoor lounger on the deck, skin tanned and looking perfect. “You were made for this life.”
I smile because it feels true. Elias has a way of making me believe everything he says.
The sun is warm against my bare skin, the smell of salty air wrapping around us like our own cocoon.
Dinner is served at a private table on the beach that night. Candles dance in the breeze as the waves lap against the beach.
He takes my hand in his, kissing my knuckles as he murmurs against me.
“Look at how far you’ve come, princess. In Ohio, you were invisible; now you’re someone.”
My gut twists at his words. “I wasn’t invisible.”
He shrugs, chuckling softly. “But you weren’t anyone special there. Now you’re bigger, larger than life.Mine.”
Maybe he’s right. I sure didn’t feel like anything special in Silo Bay. Certainly not special enough to keep Jett from disappearing.
Later in bed, both satiated in a tangle of limbs, I’m drifting off to a blissful sleep when I hear him whisper, unaware I’m still awake. “You’ll never have to go back. I’ll make sure of it.”
“I didn’t realize how serious he was.”
We'd barely made it off the tarmac when my phone began buzzing. I’m sunburned, happy, and stupidly in love, but I guess the real world is done waiting on us.
I gasp as I glance at the screen.
Photos. So many photos.
Me in a white bikini on the beach, my ass hanging out in the thong bottoms I bought for Elias’s enjoyment. His hand grips my ass as his tongue plunges into my mouth.
Another photo of me. Sunbathing topless, my breasts blurred out.
I swipe to the next one. We’re on the lounger, naked with a white sheet barely covering us. It was a private moment, a moment after rather rough, hot sex.
The tabloids talk about how Buying LA’s golden couple enjoyed an intimate island escape.
Bile threatens to spill across the floor of the town car we’re riding in.
“Oh my god,” I tremble. “Elias. How? How did they get these?”
