Page 25 of Last Resort

I refuse to allow anyone to own me.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sutton

“It’s paradise, Lizzy. Absolute paradise disguised in dated décor that most definitely has to go and staff who need a pick-me-up in the friendly department.”

“That’s what my girl is there for,” she shouts into the phone. “To kick ass, take names, and make that bitch profitable!”

Everybody needs a friend like Lizzy. The truth teller when you don’t want to hear it and your biggest cheerleader when you need it even more. And the woman who stands guard at your apartment, looking to see if your ex comes home while you pack all of the clothing you need as quickly as possible.

“That’s the plan,” I say as I look around. Palm trees sway in the breeze and a steel drum can be heard playing somewhere in the distance. The crystal-clear ocean water and white sand beach is laid out in front of me in all its glory.

Beaches definitely don’t look like this in New York.

Neither do resorts.

Where Manhattan is all sleek high-rises, miles of concrete, and a fast-paced energy, Ocean’s Edge is exactly the opposite. The white clapboard buildings, while weathered and worn, sprawl across lush grounds where tropical plants and vibrant flowers dot every walkway and corner. The vibe is laid-back and serene.

Even in the short time I’ve wandered about, I can see why the Sharpe brothers bought this place. It’s dog-eared and dated but the potential to make this a high-end concept is endless.

“So tell me about your room? Is it overlooking the water? Does it have a bird’s-eye view of some hot, sexy gardener who refuses to wear a shirt because it’s so hot, and who offers to trim your bush for free?”

“You’re delusional.”

“No, I’m stuck in New York while you’re about to live your best life in paradise.” She laughs. “So? Your room?”

“It’s incredible.” I sigh. “It’s on the backside of the property—staff quarters, I assume—so no ocean views because those are reserved for the guests, but it’s perfect in every other way. Open windows with ocean breezes and the sound of the palm trees rustling. It’s perfect.”

“Sounds heavenly, but what exactly does staff quarters mean? You’re sharing a room with someone you don’t know? That could put a damper on the abundance of sex you’re going to have.”

“Yes. That was my exact thought.” I snort. “It’s more like I have my own bed and bathroom and it opens into a common area with a kitchenette that I share with whoever occupies the other suite. Kind of like a two-bedroom apartment.”

“And so, who occupies the other suite?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t even have time to look because I was delayed getting my rental car. I literally dropped off my stuff and headed out to my first meeting.”

“And that went well?”

“It didn’t happen at all because it was rescheduled for later tonight. Can’t say I complained though because it gave me some time to sit back and enjoy this place before I jump in feet first tomorrow.”

“You? Sit back and relax? Are you feeling okay?”

“As a matter of fact, I am. I currently have a rum punch in my hand—with a paper umbrella in it, I might add—and my toes are in the sand.”

“Wow. I’m impressed. Like really impressed.”

“I’m trying,” I say, my voice softening as I lift my face to the sun, close my eyes, and let it warm my cheeks.

“I know you are. Dare I ask if you’ve heard anything from Clint yet to dampen this new place you’re in?”

I emit a resigned chuckle. “Of course I have, but it hasn’t changed my mind. He texted to see if I’d pick up his blue and yellow tie from the cleaners for him as well as a reminder to make sure I have the black dress with the cut-out neckline ready for dinner with his boss.”

“So he’s still in denial then.”

“I don’t think it’s denial. It’s more . . . self-righteousness? Arrogance? I don’t even know what to call it, but he’s in for a rude awakening when I’m not there for dinner with his boss.”

“You promise?” Lizzy asks cautiously.