Chapter 3
Singapore Slammers
IVY
Part of me wants to chicken out. I really want this, want to experiment and be adventurous, but now that it’s go time I’m losing my nerve. Alistair, noticing my hesitation, takes my hand in his and kisses it. “You’re going to be fine.”
“Maybe I need to finish that bottle,” I say. Anything to help with the nerves.
“I think you’re going to want to be kind of sober for this.”
“Um, nope. Do you even know me at all?”
“Okay,” he says. “Maybe not sober-sober.”
“I can’t believe you brought me to a sex island for our honeymoon.”
Alistair laughs. “It’s not a sex island. But I could totally get behind that idea. Shall I book one for next week?”
I shake my head. It would be totally within his reach. “Sometimes I forget how rich you are.”
“Sometimes I forget that you hate billionaires.”
“It was a phase.”
“You still have that T-shirt.”
I still had the T-shirt. Becks and I had matching ones.
Turn billionaires into compost.
Alistair liked it best when I wore it with no bra underneath. It turned him on and made me feel like a traitor to the cause, but that never lasted long.
“We were radicalized by the likes of you, so it’s your fault, really.”
“Really,” he growls, taking a step closer. God, he is so damned delicious.
“But now that I’m using your money to make the world a better place…”
“Let’s not talk shop,” he murmurs. “I want to see you naked.”
“Talking shop turns me on,” I reply. “You know that. You started that, too, with your envelopes of hussy money.”
His eyes rake over my body, and then he winks at me. “I created a monster.”
Feeling self-conscious, I take a deep breath and check my reflection one last time. It would have to do.
I down the rest of my glass of champagne, and then Alistair takes my hand, and we make our way up to Madison and co.
at the Palacio. The air is warm and scented with citrus.
The building is sprawling, with generous accommodation for her whole crowd and a huge communal entertainment area.
Every step notches up my anxiety, and I instantly regret my relative sobriety.
The setting is luxurious, but it’s probably not quite up to Alistair’s usual standards.
If he’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it.
His energy is grounded and calm—it’s one of the things I love most about him.
An excited American voice rings out. “You came!”
I’m happy to see Madison—at least we had met, if somewhat briefly, while the others were complete strangers.
As she runs over, she looks incredible in a simple kaftan over a sparkly emerald sequin bikini.
She had mentioned a jet pool, but I hadn’t wanted to be presumptuous, so I’d packed my bikini in my handbag.
“Thank you for inviting us,” I say.
“Are you kidding?” she replies. “I’m just so thrilled y’all agreed to come. Let me get you a drink. Leo’s our bartender. He actually works for the resort, but he agreed to moonlight for us tonight. How lucky are we?”
I smile, feeling awkward. “Lucky,” I agree.
“You’ll know what I mean when you see him,” Madison beams. She winks at me and takes my elbow. “Don’t worry, darlin’. You new to this? I’ll show you around. It’s easy breezy around here. No one does anything they’re not comfortable with.”
Alistair looks at me to make sure I am comfortable. “I’ll grab some drinks. What can I get you ladies?”
“I knew you were a gentleman the minute I laid eyes on you,” drawls Madison, eyes trawling Alistair’s body. I feel a cold spike of jealousy. It isn’t fair to her, but I immediately like her less. It’s clear why she invited us. She wants to fuck my husband.
“Leo makes a killer Singapore Slammer,” she sparkles.
I return her smile, but mine is fake. I hope she doesn’t see the murder in my eyes, but Alistair clearly does, because he turns to face me instead of the bar and pulls me into his arms. “The Slammer does sound good, but I don’t know what you’re in the mood for.
Would you like to come see what’s on offer? ”
I nod, and he pulls me away from her. “We’ll be back with the drinks.”
If Madison guesses at my discomfort, she doesn’t let on. “Thank you ever so much!”
“Talk to me,” murmurs Alistair, as we make our way to the bar. He doesn’t break skin contact, making me feel more secure.
“She’s just so beautiful,” I complain. That full-on white-toothed smile and big sparkly eyes, a huge mane of perfectly highlighted blonde hair. The all-American beauty.
“Er, have you looked in the mirror lately?”
“I look nothing like her.” She makes me feel mousy, sepia-toned, boringly British.
“Thank god for that. She’s not my type at all.”
I laugh. “Alistair. Madison is everybody’s type. And she’s so disgustingly young.”
He side-eyes me. “You’re the same age.”
“We are not.”
“Tell me what’s really going on.”
I hesitate. I don’t want to come across as petulant and insecure. I am better than this. I am a strong and independent woman. “You know what’s going on. It’s embarrassingly obvious.”
We reach the bar, and Leo is every bit as gorgeous as Madison had promised. Early twenties, surfer vibe, a torso worthy of a steamy novel cover. But I don’t want him. I want Alistair.
We order three Singapore Slammers.