Chapter Six
Amadeo
I spent the last four hours chatting with the managers of housekeeping, food services, maintenance and landscaping, making sure I’m up to speed on anything and everything. It wasn’t necessary, since the GM could’ve given me the rundown, but it helped me avoid the exes.
What it didn’t do was distract me from my thoughts of Zoe. But not much can today, not with the memory of her ‘O’ face keeping my dick semi-hard all day.
My meeting with Gwen isn’t till next week but avoiding her in the meantime is going to be impossible. I’m not ready to deal with her. Not now that I’ve seen her.
It shouldn’t bother me that she’s pregnant. It’s not like I want kids. I pause. Do I? Did she? I never really thought about it.
Who gets married and never talks about whether or not they want kids? Maybe that was part of the problem, Gwen and I were never about talking so much as fucking, and even our fucking wasn’t us connecting.
And certainly not like I connected with Zoe.
Fuck, why can’t I get her out of my damn head? For the billionth time, I shove thoughts of her aside.
Why the fuck did Gwen come here so early anyway?
But I know.
She’s fucking pregnant and probably wants to rest for a few days at the luxurious resort before dealing with me. I believe I saw her name on the spa list every day for the next week. And I can’t blame her for that. I’d been hostile at best since I caught her and émile together.
Just not the right kind of hostile, according to Gwen. Apparently, I should have been jealous, but I wasn’t. I was infuriated by the betrayal. My best friend fucking my wife in my own bed? That’s fucked-up.
What’s more fucked-up is that I didn’t care beyond that. I had never been in love, not with Gwen or anyone else, and it took her fucking émile for me to realize it. All I wanted from either of them was loyalty. And they couldn’t even give me that.
That thought hits me like a kick to the gut. They’re almost my father’s exact words to my mother as he kicked her out of our house when I was six years old. “All I ever wanted from you was loyalty.”
Maybe it’s a genetic condition, but I know I’m not capable of love. Not romantic love anyway. Zoe flashes in my head yet again, and my brows furrow. She’s the last person I should be thinking of now.
My body is just itching to burn off some more tension with her, that’s all.
As I pass the cliff, I grin. Fuck, she’s fun too. Not just a sexy sub, but an exciting and intelligent woman who’s amusing, charming and chaotic. Not to mention beautiful. I breathe in, and her scent is a hint in the air. It’s my imagination, but still.
My phone lights up with a text from her as if she somehow knows I’m thinking of her.
Confession?
I smile, texting her back. I’m beginning to feel like a priest.
Well, I’m going to need more than a Hail Mary, father. I’m stuck up on the cliff with a phone about to die and no flashlight to get back down.
My smile falls. You hurt? I curse, worry burning in my gut.
Does my pride count?
I don’t answer that, just text, I’m on the way.
After grabbing a couple of headband flashlights from the front desk, I start my climb, first tripping over her shoes—or I’m assuming they’re hers—tucked by the opening of the makeshift pathway.
I’ve never done the climb this late and I wish I wasn’t doing it now. The bugs are ridiculous, prehistoric-sized it seems, and fuck, even with the headlamp, it’s hard to see, but I manage to make the climb fairly quickly.
At the top, I turn my head in a sweep of the area. Zoe’s sitting on some rocks, looking embarrassed. Relief floods me.
“I swear I didn’t orchestrate this rescue to get your attention.” She rises from the rocks and heads straight to me, blocking my beam of light with her arm. I click the headlamp to its red night- vision setting so I don’t burn her retinas.
She’s a mess of disheveled clothes, tangled hair and more than a few smudges of dirt on her skin. And it doesn’t bother me one bit.
“Good,” I say with a frown, pulling her into a tight hug to reassure myself she’s okay. “Because the attention you would get wouldn't be pleasant.” I’m only partly teasing. The urge to turn her over my knee and spank her ass for doing this is strong. “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking, I needed to get away from the lovebirds that keep following me and get a picture that doesn’t have the two of them kissing in it.”
“Ah.” I end our hug and double check her for injury, noting her bare feet.
“You can start lecturing me now.”
“I should, but I can’t really argue with your reasoning. I’ve just spent four hours of my life, learning everything there is to know about every department in this resort, including housekeeping and how they dispose of the biohazard material they find in rooms, just to avoid my exes.”
I don’t know why I confess this, but I feel a little less weighty when I do. Even in the low light I can see her grimace.
“Exes as in plural?”
“Ex-wife and ex-best friend.”
“Oh.” She cocks her head and I brace myself for questions about what happened.
“Biohazardous materials?”
Her question makes me laugh, both in amusement and relief. “Condoms and bodily fluids.”
“Oh. Ew.”
“Now we need to get out of here before we’re carried off by the mammoth mosquitoes.” I place a headlamp over her curls and point to her feet. “Can you walk like that?”
She gathers a breath and sighs. “I’m going to have to, because a piggyback ride isn’t going to work.”
I toe off my shoes and hand her my socks. “My shoes will only make the climb down more dangerous, but my socks might offer some protection, yeah?”
We head to the path opening, her in my socks, and me holding back the urge to once again spank her ass for this. But it’s definitely not my only urge.
The descent is horrible. A hundred times worse than going up. Maybe because it's darker or maybe because worry is no longer distracting me, only concern over her poor feet.
“I’m reconsidering jumping now,” she huffs after a particularly difficult stumble down a ninety-degree angle. I grab her hand, helping her down the next steep drop.
“Why didn’t you? Seems like something an adrenaline junkie might do.”
“Well, first, your comments earlier about the sharks scared me. Sharks hunt at dawn and dusk.” She points up, presumably at the sky which is inky now. “And being eaten sounds like an unpleasant way to die, but also…” She gathers a breath.
“Do I need my priest robes again? Is this another confession?”
Her giggle is mixed with panting and I really like the sound.
“I prefer not to picture you as a priest, Amadeo, it makes my dirty thoughts way too sinful.”
The way my dick springs to life in my slacks, I’m sure it has ears.
“But confess, I shall. Like I mentioned before, I’m not really an adventure junkie.”
My brows rise. Because of the headlamps I can’t see her face, but her light is aimed low to the ground in front of us.
“Right, I recall you said it was a long story. Distract us.”
“I’m a fake. I started Zoe Wayz Adventures as a school project.” Her head comes up, her beam blinding me for a second before she redirects it.
“I didn’t do any of the daring stuff I posted the first six months after I started Zoe Wayz adventures. I faked it all.”
“The base jumping? Sky-diving? Heliskiing? White-water rafting?”
“Yep. All of it was faked. How do you know what I posted? I thought you had no clue who I was when I messaged you six months ago.”
I shrug even though she likely can’t see me. “I did my research after our first email but not too in-depth. That came later, after we’d had a few phone calls. You intrigued me even then.”
She slips, with a squeak, landing on her butt and as I help her up I resist the urge to pull her closer to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Doing this climb in a sundress and socks can’t be easy, but she’s being a trooper.
“Hm. I was intrigued by you before I ever reached out.” She lets out a small laugh. “Anyway there was no rock climbing or snow kiting either,” she sighs. “I faked it all.”
She tells me about her project and how everything happened so fast. And that’s why she started the series on adventuring at home. To take things back to where she was comfortable enough to start doing these things for real.
“I’m basic and a fake, Amadeo. Every time I’m about to do something even a little adventurous, I’m almost crippled by fear. I love it during and when it’s over, but before… yikes, that ‘right before’ moment almost kills me.”
“That’s nothing to be ashamed of, Zoe. I actually think it’s admirable. Bravery is doing things that scare you despite the fear.”
“When I was ten, all my friends were jumping from the top of this huge structure, at one of those adventure farms. There was a big pile of hay at the bottom. I was so excited to do it, but as I was up there, looking down, I had this gut feeling I shouldn’t do it. I was going to do it anyway, but I needed a second to prepare myself. Everyone was staring at me, calling me chicken, and ‘fraidy cat, and then, this kid behind me just pushed me. I heard him laughing the whole time I fell, which happened to feel approximately a hundred years long and a blip of a second at the same time.”
She points at her right arm. “Broke my arm in two places.”
The thought of someone hurting Zoe, even ten-year-old Zoe, makes my jaw clench. I want to hunt that kid down and ruin the man he is today for pushing her.
“I know I should come clean about my faking the original adventures, but I’m ashamed and afraid to be that little girl getting mocked again. So I plan to buck up and do all the things I faked originally, so they’re no longer lies. You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“You jumping from this cliff today wasn’t fake and neither was climbing up here again. The past is gone, Zoe, you’re not the same little girl anymore. You’re concentrating on the future.” I reach out, take her hand, and tug her forward. “And yes, although I loathe lies, I promise your secret is safe with me.”
“Maybe you should spank me for it to ease your conscience about the lies.”
Her words come out just as we burst through the palms to the area at the back of the lobby. And fuck, my dick is instantly hard. But then, we bump into my ex-wife.
“Why are you back here?” I blurt, instantly annoyed.
“Amadeo?” She blocks the bright light from my headband, so I yank it off and she looks me up and down. “That’s a rude greeting.” Gwen’s gaze then moves to our clasped hands, my bulge, and then Zoe.
“Who are you?” Her question is accusatory, so I tug Zoe closer, knowing Gwen can be a catty bitch.
“I’m Zoe.” Zoe looks to me for reassurance. I squeeze her hand.
“Guests aren’t allowed back here, but your tartlets are?”
“Really Gwen? Tartlet? Aren’t you beyond cattiness yet?”
Wordlessly Gwen points a red-tipped finger at me. “I still own half this resort, Amadeo.”
“Zoe’s my guest.” My hand tightens on Zoe’s again and she looks at me. Something unspoken passes between us and it’s like she sees through me right into my mind.
“Your guest?”
“I’m his girlfriend.”
Gwen’s eyes widen for a split second and then fall to something resembling a bored feline. As much as I loathe the word girlfriend, it doesn’t bother me when Zoe claims the status. Maybe because of our exchanged look a moment ago and knowing this is specifically for Gwen’s benefit.
“Amadeo doesn’t do girlfriends, honey.” Gwen tips her head to the side, pasting a sympathetic pout on her face. One I know holds zero sympathy. “You’re nothing more than a sex toy.”
I curse under my breath. “Gwen is my ex-wife. And a self-proclaimed bitch, to which I agree wholeheartedly.”
She laughs. “I’m also half-owner of this resort, Amadeo, so be nice.”
I feel Zoe shift beside me.
“Oh, that surprises you? Interesting.” Gwen’s eyes hone in on Zoe. “You’re cute and little.” She clicks her tongue, her eyes roving as she inspects the beautiful woman beside me.
I crack my neck, anger rising. She’s got me by the balls and she knows it. She doesn’t have to sell her half of the resort back to me, and she’s been using it to toy with me, like a cat plays with a mouse, for months.
“She’s just your type, Deo.” Although Gwen’s words are clearly directed at me, she’s still looking at Zoe. “How long have you had her? I’d love to see you punish her.” She smiles crookedly. “For old times’ sake.”
I shake my head. “We have somewhere to be,” I say, tugging on Zoe’s arm in an attempt to save her from my ex, but she doesn’t move. I look down at her expression, surprised by how calm it is, but I shouldn’t be. Zoe’s a different breed.
“It’s okay honey, you’re allowed to speak. This isn’t the nineteen-fifties.” Gwen rolls her eyes. “Couldn’t find a sub with a little backbone?”
“Gwen.” My tone hints a warning that I’m about to explode, sale be damned, but while Gwen brushes it off. Zoe suddenly looks at me like I’m ice cream in July. God, she’s so sweet and sexy.
“Do you call him Sir, or Master?”
“That’s enough. What’s wrong with you?” I release Zoe’s hand and step protectively in front of her, shielding her from my ex’s assault.
“Actually, neither,” Zoe pipes up, stepping out from behind me, surprising us both. Gwen’s eyes dart to mine and the corner of her mouth tightens in amusement as if she’s suddenly surprised by her prey and wondering if I am too. “I call him Daddy.”