I invited all my friends out on my yacht tonight.
Can I cancel? Or should I invite Vida to the party?
My stomach churns with discomfort at the very notion. Not because I’m not proud of her. Not because I don’t want her there. But because I know my friends will eat her alive. They can’t help themselves. Their overindulged prick genes run deep. Even members of the same social class sometimes aren’t good enough for them. Vida will be a whole new entity. A member of the help—that’s how they’re going to see her. Not as a peer.
It could be a disaster.
But if I want to be with Vida—and as far as I’m concerned, that’s a done deal and she’smine—then I’ll have to introduce her to my world sooner or later. I’ll speak to my friends in advance and make sure they know there will be consequences if she feels slighted. I won’t have her feelings hurt. Actually, the idea of her upset fills me with a kind of empty despair that permeates all my organs.
She’s already so special to me, I don’t know what to do with myself.
Color, I guess.
I work on my wannabe masterpiece for another hour before carefully rolling it up and securing it with a rubber band. Then I dress for the gym in black sweatpants and no shirt, slinging my headphones around my neck. Phone tucked into my pocket, I leave the room with my Milky Way illustration in my hand.
And shit, I’m nervous.
I’m actually nervous about giving something to a girl. Have I ever been anything but calm and controlled around the opposite sex before? Nope. Can’t remember a single time.
Just with Vida.
God, I’mobsessedwith her.
If I don’t taste her mouth in the next hour, I swear my heart is going to stop beating.
I take the elevator down to the gym, praying I’ll run into her there. I should get a copy of her schedule. I could easily do itwith one phone call. I could do a lot of shit with one phone call, like get her a promotion to a cushy office position. Transfer a few million into her bank account. Free her from an endless cycle of work in a place where she said she feels powerless. I couldhandher the power.
How long will I be able to hold myself back from doing that?
I round the corner into the gym, and I don’t see Vida. Backtracking, I stride into the pool area?—
And I see something that turns my blood to ice.
Vida is walking past an older man with a stack of towels in her arms. He’s maybe in his early forties. As she passes, he reaches out and grabs the hem of her uniform skirt, yanking her to a halt. “How about that swimming lesson today, baby? A private one, just for me.”
Anger almost blacks me out.
Invisible hands throttle the breath from my throat.
She attempts to get away, but he hauls her back, causing her to stumble.
“Hey,” I bark, striding forward, my voice echoing in the enclosed pool. “Get your fucking hands off her. Immediately.”
Vida sobs through a breath. Her relief to see me is stark. “Tripp.”
“I’m here.”
I hold out my arms open, and she comes running to me, tucking herself against my side and burying her face in my neck, whispering, “I’m okay. I’m okay.”
“None of this is okay.” I point a finger at the man, wondering how I haven’t burst into flames by now, my ire burns so hot. “You don’t put your hands on her. Or anyone else who works here. What is your name, motherfucker, so I can have you barred from this resort for life?”
He looks nervous to have been caught harassing a girl half his age, but you would never know it from his belligerent snort.
“You think you have the power to do that? Who do you think you are?”
“Tripp Sterling. Who the fuck areyou?”
Every ounce of color drains from his face. “Sterling?”
