Chapter 3
ISLA
“You’re here!”
Luna wraps me in a boa-constrictor hug, squealing so loudly in my ear that I swear my eardrum starts to whimper in submission. But I hug her back because I love her so much, and I’m elated to be here with her for her big day. The big day she deserves and should have had from the get-go.
“I’m here,” I say, swaying back and forth with her as we embrace because it feels so good to hug my friend, especially after the last few months. “Unfortunately, my luggage still isn’t.”
“What?” She jerks back, looking at me with a frown. “What happened to your luggage?”
“The Miami airport. But never mind that. I have a credit card and there’s a really cute boutique in the lobby, so I picked up a few things this morning.”
I don’t tell her that my credit card is thisclose to being maxed out.
I’m still carrying around my grad-school debt on top of the loans from my bachelor’s.
Quitting my job didn’t exactly help the finances.
Neither did paying for Christian’s half of this trip or a whole lot of other bills before we split.
But that’s all the kind of info that’s bound to rain on my girl’s parade, and we’re having none of that.
I’m firmly Team Luna has her happily ever after and gorgeous island wedding all the way.
Which is why I also don’t tell her about the incredible night I had with a man I’ll never see again. If I even think about what went down last night, I swear I’ll incinerate on the spot. So I focus on my bestie instead.
Luna’s dark hair glints in the sunshine streaming in the windows, falling in a glossy wave past her shoulders. Wearing a strapless little black dress and killer heels, she looks like she stepped off a Vogue cover shoot instead of rushing at me across a hotel lobby.
She frowns at me. “You mean you don’t have anything?”
“Don’t worry. I brought the most important piece of clothing as a carry-on, carefully zipped inside a garment bag. A flight attendant was wonderful enough to stow it for me so that it wouldn’t get wrinkled.”
“You think I’m worried about your dress?” Luna shakes her head. “Woman, you could wear a trash bag at the wedding, and I wouldn’t care. You’d still be absolutely gorgeous, and nothing matters as much as you being here with me this time, the way it was meant to be.”
“Your loyalty is much appreciated, but I have the gown and it’s in perfect shape, so we’re all good.”
“Oh, you!” She grins at me, giving me a once-over before frowning. “What about Christian? Is his luggage lost too, or just yours?”
Damn. This question came sooner than I had hoped it would.
It is also why I changed my flight to St. Thomas, explaining my late arrival away as a work obligation.
Because I couldn’t bear to face her too many days before the ceremony.
Lying to my bestie is impossible. I don’t know if I can do it.
Avoidance is one thing, but meeting her eye and pretending I am still happily engaged to Christian is another entirely.
“He couldn’t make it,” I hedge.
Her frown deepens. “What do you mean, he couldn’t make it?”
I open my mouth to answer with a lie, but she stops me, seizing my upper arms and turning me toward the morning sunlight.
“Wait a minute, is that a hickey?”
Shit.
Is it a hickey? She’s staring at my neck. I have a vivid memory of Alessio deep inside me while he sucked hard on my throat.
Oh my God, I have a hickey. A bright, glaring one-night stand hickey. Why didn’t I look in the mirror this morning? How am I going to explain this away?
“I…ah…um…”
Her mouth falls open. “That’s not from Christian, is it?”
“We are… He and I broke up.”
“What?” she demands so loudly that at least half a dozen of our fellow patrons look our way.
Now, I have a hickey and an audience. This is humiliating. I’m too old for hickeys. And for explaining why they aren’t from my former fiancé.
I jerk my head in the direction of the pool area. “Let’s go for a walk and talk.”
“And you’re going to tell me e-v-e-r-y-thing,” she insists, dragging out the syllables.
I’m sure I’m blushing. I’m also wearing an oversized T-shirt and shorts set that reads “St. Thomas” on my ass and left tit. So there’s that.
Luna grabs my right arm in a death grip and marches me out of the hotel lobby, past the curious onlookers we’ve managed to collect.
I am aware there’s a billboard on my butt with each step.
My fucking suitcase better get here by lunchtime, or I’m going to have to find my way to a store that sells non-tourist clothing.
The second we’re in the sunshine and out of earshot of other hotel guests, she stops and faces me. “Okay, spill the tea, Is.”
I sigh, wondering how much to tell her. “This is your wedding. I don’t need to ruin it with my baggage. Or lack thereof.”
“Seriously. I brought three suitcases filled with clothing. Priest was stoically amused. You should have seen his face, but he was all baby, whatever you need. Pack a fourth suitcase. You can gladly have some of my clothing if your luggage doesn’t show.
Or we’ll go on a shopping spree. Whatever, we’ll make the most of it.
But I need to know why my best friend broke up with her fiancé and I’m just hearing about it for the first time now. ”
I wince. “Because my best friend is getting married, and she doesn’t need anything but sunshine, blue ocean, and white sand. Seriously, it’s not that big of a deal.”
“Not that big of a deal? Is, you were planning your wedding. That’s a huge deal. A colossal fucking deal, okay? Now tell me what happened.” She frowns, then adds as an afterthought, “Please.”
I laugh. “Being the wife of a Mafia don is making you into a bossy bitch, you know that?”
It’s good to find some humor and lightness. Good to be with my friend. The sun is shining, the pool looks absolutely amazing, and I had the best sex of my life last night. Mind-numbing, bone-melting, multiple-orgasm sex with the hottest man I’ve ever met.
Fuck Christian.
And fuck Harlow too.
“Don’t say that too loudly,” Luna says. “We’re keeping a low profile here. Priest and his brothers are majority investors in the hotel, and they don’t want to spook anyone with their…connections.”
“Sorry.” My temporary good mood fades. “Shit. I don’t know what the rules are for this kind of stuff. Are you being watched? Is your phone tapped? Is the FBI following you?”
Luna rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to worry about that. Just don’t bring it up. What you don’t know can’t hurt you.”
It’s my turn to frown. “Okay, now you’re starting to freak me out.”
Luna and I met as undergrads in Iowa, and we’ve been like sisters ever since.
What I didn’t know up until recently was that her father was the don of a notorious East Coast crime syndicate.
When he became ill with cancer over a year ago, he lured her home under false pretenses and forced her into an arranged marriage with Priest, the don of a rival family.
Thankfully, she and Priest fell in love and are deliriously happy together, which is why they’re remarrying—the right way this time, and on their own terms. It’s complicated, and I’ve tried my best to keep out of that side of things while still supporting my bestie however I can.
“No need to freak out,” she reassures me. “Just keep it on the down-low, that’s all. Glen Powell wouldn’t run around the hotel with a megaphone announcing that he’s Glen Powell, would he?”
“Yeah, but it’s not like he’d need to anyway. Because he’s Glen Powell.” I narrow my eyes at Luna. “Wait a minute. Is Priest involved in anything illegal?”
The little I know about the Mafia is limited to what I’ve seen in the movies. I’m not sure I want to know more, but I’m also not about to stand by while the woman I consider a sister gets tangled up in crimes that could land her in prison.
“Is, cut it out.” She crosses her arms. “Tell me what happened with Christian. Why is he not here in St. Thomas with you, and why are you no longer with your fiancé?”
“It’s a long story. Let’s just say he’s currently with a student named Harlow, and the two of them deserve each other. Actually, I’m not sure she deserves him because she’s too young to know better, but that’s another story.”
“Oh my God. He cheated on you?”
“Yes.”
“With someone named Harlow?”
Once again, Luna’s voice is carrying. A woman in a green bikini turns and watches us curiously from behind her Versace shades.
“Also yes,” I admit.
“I hope you chopped off his dick,” Luna says vehemently.
And I’m not sure she’s kidding. Maybe being married to the mob is rubbing off on her. She sounded deadly serious.
“Ew, no. I wouldn’t touch that thing again if you paid me now.”
“When did you find out?”
I sigh, knowing she’ll be even more upset with me when I tell her the truth. “A month ago.”
“A month ago. A whole month ago? And you’re just telling me now? We text every day, and you neglected to mention this hugely important detail to me? Why would you keep this a secret?”
“Because I didn’t want to ruin your wedding. Or make it about me. Look, this sucks. I was a hot mess when I found out. But it was for the best. I’d rather find out who he really is now than a few years into a marriage. I’ve had some time to process, and I’m ready to move on.”
I kind of did move on last night. But that was temporary. One time only. Why do I feel so sad at the thought of never having that man’s beautiful face between my legs again?
Bad thought to have in this moment.
Luna’s shoulders go down. “I feel like a selfish bridezilla. I’ve been planning a destination wedding, and I’m so self-absorbed that I didn’t realize my own best friend was going through a breakup.”
“How would you have known when I didn’t tell you?
Please. You’re not selfish. You’re one of the least selfish people I know.
” Which is also why she’d flown back east at her father’s behest and fell straight into his trap.
“And also, totally not a bridezilla. I wanted to keep this to myself because you deserve the most amazing day ever, and I didn’t want to make it about me and my problems.”
“Exactly how were you going to explain Christian not coming to St. Thomas?” Her eyes narrow. “Especially when you’re walking around with a hickey on your neck? What’s that about anyway? Did you have a hookup last night?”
I don’t say anything. I don’t know how to tell her that I had the world’s most amazing one-night stand with a sexy, badass business investor. Which sounds like he actually does something nefarious and possibly criminal in real life, and oh my God. Is Alessio in the Mafia?
I stare at my bestie in dawning horror.
“You didn’t invite Priest’s…you know…business associates, did you?” I ask her quietly.
She blinks, looking as befuddled as I feel. “No, it’s small. Strictly family. You know that.”
Okay. Whew. If Alessio is in the Mafia, it’s a Caribbean mafia.
I have no idea what his last name is, I don’t have his number, I don’t even know where he’s from, and I’ll never see him again.
So if the FBI comes knocking on my hotel room door tomorrow morning, I can honestly answer “I don’t know” to every question.
I’m letting my anxiety get the best of me now. Deep breath. I inhale, then exhale slowly. Concentrate.
“Did you hook up with someone last night?” she asks me quietly.
The heat creeping up my throat is probably the only answer she needs, along with my hickey, because apparently I’m back in the eleventh grade.
“I did,” I confirm.
“Oh my God, Is.”
“I didn’t mean to. You don’t have to worry that it’s going to get weird or that it will interfere with the wedding in any way. I don’t want him as my plus-one. I mean, I’m never going to see him again. I don’t even know who he is, not really. Are you mad at me?”
“Mad?” She pats me on the back. “Honey, I’m happy for you. I’m fucking thrilled, in fact. I hope you had the best orgasms ever, all night long. You deserve it after what you’ve been through.”
Multiple orgasms.
Apparently that’s a thing for other people, not just an anomaly I experienced with Alessio.
It wasn’t a thing with Christian, that’s for sure.
I tamp down that thought. He doesn’t get to be in my head. I’m in paradise, and he can fuck right off.
“Thanks, I guess?” I shrug. I’m still blushing. Still sporting a colossal hickey on my neck. Still guilty as sin.
This is so embarrassing. I feel like I did when I was a teenager and my mom caught me sneaking out my bedroom window to meet up with Justin Tate, my sophomore-year boyfriend. Damn, I miss my mom. She could have been my plus-one. She’d have loved Luna.
“Was he hot?”
I smile, relieved to be dragged from my mind. “The hottest guy I’ve ever met. No joke.”
“Good for you, Is.” Luna gives me a look. “But I want you to know that no matter what’s happening in my life, I’m here for you. Promise me that you won’t keep a secret like this from me again.”
“Never.”
“Pinkie swear?”
I laugh. “What are we, five?”
She waggles her pinkie at me meaningfully, which is hilarious because she’s got a fancy manicure, and her left hand is sporting a diamond big enough to poke out my eye. “No, but we need to seal the deal with something, and this pinkie is all I’ve got at the moment.”
I link my finger with hers. “Pinkie swear.”
“Good.” Luna smiles. “Did you eat breakfast yet?”
“Nope.” I got out of bed, poured myself into yesterday’s outfit, and went to obtain clothing.
Now I have St. Thomas plastered on my ass. Epic fail.
“Perfect. I’ve arranged brunch for the whole bridal party by the private pool at my bungalow. I hope you’re ready for mimosas.”
She has a bungalow with a private pool? I haven’t seen much of the hotel, but if what I’ve experienced so far is anything to go by, her bungalow is going to be incredible.
“Mimosas sound perfect. But are we swimming? Because I don’t have a suit.”
“Mimosas first, and then Rocco will take us all shopping,” Luna decides.
Then she grabs my hand and starts pulling me from the pool to whatever VIP area she’s inhabiting while I try not to think about the fact that she has a driver named Rocco who’s going to take us shopping. This whole trip is surreal.
If it weren’t for the sunshine melting my face, I’d think I dreamed it all.