Chapter 27
LENI
The same jet that whisked us away to Vegas for my bachelorette party belongs to Romero.
Holy shit.
I’m still reeling from the revelation, my eyes sweeping over the lush interior with new eyes. Just how loaded is my new husband? Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to reject the monthly allowance he offered me.
“Just how rich are you?”
“Rich.” His voice cracks with amusement. “Rich enough to give you the whole world.”
My throat goes dry. He already has given me my whole world. I take a shaky sip of water, desperate to change the subject before I say something I’ll regret. “Are you really not going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Do you not know what the definition of a surprise is, tentatrice?” His voice is dark as sin, his eyes equally dark, and suddenly the cabin feels like it’s been dialed up to tropical temperatures.
I fan myself with shaking fingers and stare out the window, trying to ignore the way his gaze tracks my every movement like a predator watching prey.
Tentatrice. He’s been calling me that since yesterday. Temptress. The word makes my skin burn, especially knowing why he thinks it fits after I apparently stripped naked and slept wrapped around him all night. Christ, Leni, what is wrong with you?
I clear my throat and take another long sip of water to cover my silence.
Then the changing view outside pulls my attention—the jet dipping lower, the ground rushing closer. Are we finally here? I sit up straighter, practically gluing my nose to the glass, only to slump back in disappointment when all I see is tarmac and boring airport buildings.
Romero chuckles. “You’ll see everything you want to soon enough.” His mood has completely transformed since we boarded. It’s lighter, almost playful. Like he’s holding the world’s best secret and can barely contain himself.
When the plane stops, he rises and offers me his hand. I take it, that familiar jolt I’ve now come to anticipate zipping up my arm. His sharp inhale doesn’t escape me, though I pretend not to notice.
He tightens his grip as we walk through the cabin towards the already-open door, and when I step outside, my jaw literally drops.
Towering green forest stretches as far as I can see, surrounded by water so crystal clear it looks like liquid diamonds shimmering under the dusky sun. We left New York in darkness, but here it’s barely sunset. I’m time traveling again—both times because of this man next to me.
“Come on.” He nudges me forward, but I can barely drag my eyes from the water as I start walking down the stairs. Then he steers me right, towards a sleek blue-and-white seaplane bobbing near a small makeshift dock.
“We’re getting on that?” The nerves leak into my voice. Compared to the jet we just left, it’s so—small. Almost like a toy.
“The plane is taking us to our final destination. This is just the halfway point.” Like he can sense my nervousness, he stops walking and grips my chin, tilting my face up to his. Those green eyes are serious now, searching. “Do you trust me?”
I don’t even need to think about it. “Yes.” Completely. Terrifyingly. More than I should.
Something flickers in those green depths at my quick answer—surprise, maybe? Relief? Heat, definitely. “Good.” He clears his throat. “Then trust me when I say you’ll love this.”
I give him my best skeptical look as he helps me into the tiny plane. But he’s right. God, is he right.
The seaplane is loud as hell as we take off, but I can’t stop the wide, excited grin on my face if I tried.
It’s like the entire world just falls away until there’s nothing left but sea and sky and the surprisingly plush cabin.
I feel weightless, free, my face glued to the window as I soak it all in.
I don’t know how long we fly. Time becomes meaningless up here. But by the time we touch down on the glassy water, the sun melts completely into the horizon, painting everything in shades of orange. Then I see it—our destination up ahead—and my breath catches.
This can’t be real.
The island is shaped like a crescent moon, the curve lined with white sand so fine it shimmers like sugar. Dense green forest crowds the back, and nestled right at the edge of it all is a villa that looks ripped from a magazine spread.
A four-story white stone and dark wood building, with floor-to-ceiling windows that reflect the sea and the sky. From here, I can make out a large pool on one level and hammocks swaying lazily on another.
It’s stunning.
And it’s ours?
The seaplane glides to a stop at a dock where uniformed staff wait with welcoming smiles, and I turn to Romero, completely speechless.
When he first mentioned the honeymoon, I assumed we’d go somewhere decent for appearances’ sake.
A nice hotel, maybe a resort. Something to sell the illusion that we’re madly in love.
This isn’t selling an illusion. This is insane. Like he reached into my dreams and built my perfect paradise from scratch. He’s gone all out.
He’s already watching me, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “You like it?”
My throat works uselessly for several seconds as I try to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. But words have abandoned me entirely.
He chuckles at my fish-out-of-water impression. “I’m glad you like it that much.” Rising, he offers me his hand. “Come on, let’s go explore.”
The second I step off the plane, I slip from his grip, walking past the waiting staff. I kick off my heels, sighing in pure bliss as my toes sink into the softest sand imaginable. Salty breeze sweeps my bangs across my forehead, and I smile, closing my eyes to savor the moment.
When I open them again, my heart jolts. Romero is staring at me with an expression I can’t read. I swallow, pulse hammering, but even my nervousness about the dark way he’s suddenly looking at me isn’t enough to dampen my excitement.
I spread my arms wide and spin in a slow circle. “This is—indescribable, Romero.”
He steps into my space when I face him again, his hand sliding to my lower back as he leans down. “Good.” Then his lips brush mine in the faintest ghost of a kiss that sends my pulse scrambling. “I want our first time together, your first time, to be special. Because you are.”
Heat rushes to my face. The matter of my virginity has lingered between us these past few weeks, but aside from that short library conversation, we never brought it up again.
My pulse skitters when he presses me closer, drawing me flush against the solid heat of his chest. “I’ve been going crazy these past few weeks, Leni.”
I gulp.
“Welcome to Moon Crest Bay.”
The voice behind us makes Romero take a reluctant step back. But it’s not nearly enough space to stop the fire sizzling in my veins or calm my thudding heart. I turn towards the woman, hyperaware of his hot palm still burning against my lower back like a brand.
“I’m Clara, the island concierge. It’s so nice to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Lombardi.”
Mrs. Lombardi. My brain short-circuits when Romero’s thumb starts moving in slow circles on my spine, and I can only stare at Clara with parted lips, fighting not to make any embarrassing sounds.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Clara,” Romero murmurs, his warm breath teasing the nape of my neck, raising goosebumps everywhere.
Fuck.
Clara nods, then launches into tour guide mode as she leads us towards the villa.
“I’ve sent the other staff back inside for now since there isn’t much for them to do yet, but we have a private chef in residence, a housekeeper, and three servers who can bring meals to whichever room you prefer.
They’ll also attend to any needs you have.
And of course, cleaners come in daily, so you don’t have to worry about tidying up. ”
She continues her speech as she walks us through, but it’s impossible to focus.
I try to listen. I really do. But Romero…
he’s relentless. His hand has migrated up to where my dress opens in the back, his fingers now brushing the exposed skin there.
Every nerve ending in my body zeros in on those barely-there caresses.
My heart is pounding so loudly it drowns out Clara’s voice, keeping perfect rhythm with the insistent throbbing between my thighs.
Is he doing this on purpose?
The villa has four ridiculously oversized suites, including a master with amazing dual views of the forest from one window and the ocean from another.
I gasp at the sight, using the opportunity to slip from Romero’s maddening touch, but like a magnet to metal, he follows instantly and glues himself to me again.
I know we’re supposed to sell our newlywed act to the concierge, but this is too much.
He cages me against the window, and I glance back at him, breath snagging in my chest. But he’s staring out at the view while his thumb lazily circles the center of my spine.
I barely swallow the moan that wants to escape my throat when he hits a particularly sensitive spot that makes me want to arch like a cat, and his lips twitch into the barest ghost of a smile.
He is doing this on purpose, the bastard!
But I can’t rip into him in front of our audience, so I endure it, trying to slip away from him each time our tour guide shows us another incredible room in this labyrinth of a villa.
A massive library straight out of Beauty and the Beast. A gourmet kitchen that’s every chef’s wet dream. An entertainment room loaded with every game imaginable—table tennis, shuffleboard, video games, you name it.
Then Clara leads us to the next floor, and as we climb the stairs, I increase my pace, practically sprinting ahead to escape from Romero and his hot touches that are slowly driving me crazy.
Finally, we reach a huge balcony—insanely huge—with lounge chairs, a fully stocked wet bar, and the crown jewel: an infinity pool that seems to melt seamlessly into the shimmering water of the sea beyond.
I gasp, walking closer to admire it just as Romero’s palm grazes the top of my ass. He probably meant to place his hand on my lower back again, but my quick movement combined with the way I lean forward means his hand lands squarely on my butt.
The scandalous sound that escapes me would make a porn star blush. I jolt forward from the shock of the touch, my feet slip on the wet floor, and—
Splash!
The warm water engulfs me in a rush, and for some absurd reason, the sensation tugs directly at my clit as my dress molds to my body. I surface to find an amused Romero and a horrified Clara staring down at me.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” The concierge hurries forward with her hand out at the same time Romero steps up to the edge.
“I’ve got this,” he says, leaning down to offer me his hand.
I glare at him as I take it—then yank him into the pool with every ounce of strength I have.
He lands with a mighty splash next to me, sending water all over my face and damp hair, even sprinkling Clara’s slippered feet.
“Gotcha.” I smirk as he surfaces, but my triumphant smile dies when I see his expression. Those green eyes have gone dark, predatory, and something in his face promises delicious retribution.
He spares Clara one quick glance. “Get your staff and leave. I need some time alone with my wife.”
Oh. I’m in trouble.