Chapter 22
DEX
I wake up groggy, disoriented, my brain sluggish as I adjust to the dim light filtering through the villa. It takes me a second to remember where I am.
The private villa. Our wedding night. Daniela. She’s curled against me, even though this bed is huge. Big enough to fit half the Knights on it, and yet, when we got in, we made sure to stay as far apart as possible. A solid meter of space between us, maybe more.
So how the hell did we end up like this?
She’s lying on her side, her body molded to mine, one arm slung over my stomach, her breath soft against my skin. My arm wraps around her protectively, keeping her close. Liking the feel of her soft skin against me.
She went to bed in silk pajamas that were delicate, expensive-looking. I’m in a T-shirt and light shorts, even though I normally sleep naked. Figured that wouldn’t be the best idea tonight.
It took me forever to fall asleep. The heat. The awareness of her in the room. Remembering last night; and the sound of the shower running while I forced myself to stay outside. All I could do was imagine her stripping, stepping under the water, steam curling around her. My frustration was already stretched to the limit like an elastic band about to snap. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel something.
Damn it, just undoing her dress buttons was the sexiest thing I’ve done in a while. And I’ve done some really sexy—some might call them depraved—things when I’m with a woman.
Undoing buttons? Sexy as fuck. Who would have thought? I had to fight not to react when the dress slid off her shoulder. Harder still when it slipped lower, leaving her standing there in that strapless satin bra.
And now she’s here. Arms wrapped around my chest like she’s a part of me. I should move her away, but I don’t.
Because I like this.
She stirs, letting out a soft sigh, her body pressing even closer. She smells fresh and light, something feminine and warm, and this epitome of the perfect woman feels deliciously soft against me. I hate the way we fit together more perfectly than I wanted. The way lying in bed with her feels like something that makes sense. Something that could be.
I lie there, not moving, barely breathing, until she shifts again, her hand sliding lower.
My stomach tenses.
Damn.
She’s not awake. She has no idea her palm is now resting just above my lower abdomen. Three more inches and …
Dammit.
Her hand moves.
Right over my cock. I’m wearing shorts, but still, her hand is resting on my cock. And now my body? Oh, it’s fully awake. I try not to think about earlier. About the way her dress slipped down to her waist. About that kiss. But my dick has other plans, thickening beneath my shorts, tenting the fabric.
I barely have time to react before she stirs again, mumbling something.
“Dexter,” she whispers, her voice sleepy, breathy.
Should I answer her?
“Don’t do that,” she moans, her voice incredibly husky.
My eyes snap open.
What?
“Huh?” My voice comes out rough, startled. I jerk her hand away, my entire body tense.
She lets out a sharp breath, and then bolts upright. The dim light is enough for her to see what’s happening. Her gaze drops to the very obvious problem in my shorts, and it makes her gasp.
“What were you doing?” She scrambles back to her side of the bed so fast she nearly falls off.
I sit up, running a hand through my hair, holding up the other one in surrender. “I didn’t touch you. I didn’t do anything. You did this.” I gesture at the hard length pressing against my shorts.
Her mouth opens and closes.
“I swear to you, I woke up and you were wrapped around me. You had your hand on my stomach, and then you moved it down. I’m a decent man, Daniela. Respectable. I would never do anything. I hope you know that.”
Her hand flies to her mouth, her eyes wide. Shock. Horror. Embarrassment. I can’t tell which, because I’m still fighting to get my body under control.
“If that’s the case… I… I’m sorry.” She blushes.
I narrow my eyes, feeling mischievous. “Were you dreaming of me?”
“No!”
“I think you were,” I say smugly. “You said my name.”
“I did not.”
“You were dreaming. How would you even know?”
“I wouldn’t dream of you.”
“You literally said, ‘Dexter, don’t do that,’” I tease, making my voice mockingly breathless.
She glares at me, jabbing a finger in the air. “I remember now. I did dream of you. We were strangling each other, and I won.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” I say lazily, leaning back against the pillows. “You’ve definitely got the hots for me.”
She huffs, turns her back on me, and scoots even further away from me on the bed. If she moves another inch, I swear she’ll be on the damn floor.
I exhale, running a hand over my face. It takes me forever to fall asleep again. I toss and turn, but it’s too damn hot, and I can’t sleep in these clothes. I’m not used to it.
So, with Sleeping Beauty marooned on her side of the bed, I strip naked and pray I pass out before this night gets any more complicated.
Because, right now, I’m not sure I can handle waking up to her again.
***
DANI
It’s really hot. That’s the first thing I register when I wake up.
The second thing is far more alarming: Dexter is naked. Completely, unapologetically, naked . My brain short-circuits, and I scramble to process the fact that my brand-new husband is sprawled out beside me like some shameless Roman emperor, all golden skin and zero shame.
My gaze trails lower, below his belly and I shriek. From shock. From his nakedness, and his size. And that he has a semi-erection. The sheets barely cover him, and the heat isn’t the only reason my face is on fire.
He shifts beside me, stretching like a well-fed lion, his muscles flexing with a lazy sort of ease. Then, just to make things worse, he cracks open one eye, completely unbothered.
“You been watching me sleep?” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep, but the corners of his mouth curling up. I quickly move the bed sheet to cover him and I clutch the other edge of the sheet and hold it to me.
“Why would you do that?” I jerk my chin at him.
He frowns, rubbing a hand over his face. “Do what?”
I gesture wildly. “This! The …” I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my sanity to return. “Sleep naked! You were fully dressed from what I remember.”
He lifts his side of the sheet, peeks down at himself and shrugs, completely unfazed. “It was so hot, I couldn’t sleep.”
I gape at him. “So your solution was full nudity?”
“I always sleep naked. Don’t you?”
I make a strangled noise and whip around, facing the wall like it holds all the answers to my terrible life choices. Spoiler: it does not.
Behind me, I can feel his amusement, the sheer arrogance radiating off him in waves.
“You should try it sometime.”
“Never,” I hiss.
“You’re overreacting,” he says, sounding far too entertained. “It’s not like I planned to traumatize you. Trust me, I was far more concerned about not melting in my sleep.”
I groan, throwing an arm over my face. “This marriage is already a disaster.”
Dexter just laughs, deep and low. “Come on, amor. Don’t act like you didn’t luck out.”
I can’t see him, but I just know he’s sniggering. I am never waking up before him again. And that image of his nakedness? I can’t get it out of my mind. And now I’m feeling all hot and flustered.
***
We leave the honeymoon suite behind, stepping out into the bright morning sun. The villa has been ours for less than a day, and yet, it feels like a different world compared to the one we’re about to step back into.
Breakfast was a lavish affair, hosted by my parents with all the warmth and grandeur they could muster. A grand send-off for the Knight family before their late afternoon departure. They only arrived two days ago. My parents asked me why they wouldn’t stay a few days, that surely the jetlag would kill them?
I don’t tell them that they can’t really stand to be together. That they don’t like to be around their father if they can help it. I tell them that they need to get back to work, and that’s also true.
And now, we linger outside, waiting for the SUVs that will take them to the airfield. I feel my mother’s eyes on me. She keeps sneaking glances, hopeful, like she’s clinging to some fairytale in her head. She probably still believes in the idea of happily-ever-afters, that love will somehow bloom between Dexter and me. And maybe that’s why my parents suggested we spend our first night at that place. I’m convinced it was my mother’s doing.
But nothing could be further from the truth.
Papai, on the other hand, looks worried. The happiness he wore earlier has dimmed, his expression tight. He’s been doing better lately, stronger than he was a month ago, when we decided I had to make an alliance with one of the Knights. I thought today would be easier for him, that he’d finally feel some relief now that the deal is sealed. But there’s something else weighing on him. Something I don’t understand yet.
“These are for you, Daniela.” A small voice pulls me from my thoughts. I glance down to see Brooke standing in front of me, holding out a tiny bunch of wildflowers. A genuine smile tugs at my lips as I crouch down. “Oh! Thank you so much, these are beautiful.”
Brooke beams, her small fingers tightening around Cari’s hand. Just behind them, the Knight men surround Dexter, their voices low, their postures commanding. Whatever piece of advice they’re giving him, I doubt it’s anything warm or sentimental.
Cari winces. “Sorry, we picked them from your grounds …”
I wave it off. “It’s perfectly fine.”
Cari leans in for a quick hug, but I tighten my arms around her, holding on just a little longer.
“We’ll catch up when you move in,” she promises.
“We will.” At least, I hope we will. It’s been impossible to connect with anyone through all of this, but maybe that will change when I move to New York.
Sometimes I catch Cari watching me. There’s something behind her gaze, something unreadable. Pity? A warning? Or something else entirely, something she isn’t saying. She wishes me a wonderful honeymoon before stepping away, leaving me to face the rest of the Knights.
They stand in a line, as if sending me off on some grand adventure. My parents hover nearby, glowing with pride. At least, my mother does. My father still looks tense.
I greet him with a warmth I don’t feel, and I hate the way I’m getting used to lying and pretending so easily. Dexter shakes hands with the other brothers, the ones he calls the Italian Knights. But with Jett and Zach, it’s different. He bearhugs them, the bond between them obvious. He’s gentler around Cari and Brooke, careful.
Then, at the very end of the line, his father waits.
“You’re not getting on?” Dexter’s voice is cool, his shoulders stiff. Paul smiles, the picture of control.
“I want to spend a few days here, soaking up the wonderful hospitality of your in-laws.”
Dexter’s face hardens.
I glance at my father. No wonder he looked worried. Now, I’m worried too.
“Why is that?” Dexter asks.
Paul’s smile doesn’t falter. “Like I said, to enjoy the hospitality. And the weather.”
“We should have all stayed, then,” Dexter says flatly.
“You know how busy we are,” Paul replies smoothly. “Business doesn’t stop. But for the honeymooners? It can.” He flashes a smile that turns my insides cold.
The SUVs pull up, and the Knights start piling in. “See you soon,” Dexter calls out, voice tight.
“Rio’s missing,” I whisper to Dexter.
His lips curve up into a smile and I hear a chuckle. “Jeez.”
“Him and Raquel?” I ask him. I also haven’t seen her. She was supposed to come and join us for breakfast.
Dexter’s eyes meet mine. “They’re consenting adults,” he says, with a shrug.
My parents hold hands and go back into the house. Dexter and I remain standing until the line of cars is out of sight. For the first time since I’ve known him, he looks less cocky. More vulnerable. Like he’s lost.
And I realize that’s exactly how I feel too. Like I’m out of my depth. Alone. In a world I don’t fully understand, surrounded by people I don’t truly know.
I reach for his hand, seeing him look so alone. I don’t want that for him. This might not be real, and even though we’re nothing but business acquaintances, friends, at a push, I need him to know that I’m here for him.
He presses his fingers in mine, and I exhale a breath.
***
DEX
I don’t like this. Not one damn bit.
Paul Knight lingering here means trouble.
When I glance at Daniela, her expression is tight, her lips pressed together in worry. She’s figured out what kind of man my father is. Smart girl. She knows he’s dangerous, that he doesn’t just hang around for no reason. If I were in her shoes, I’d be worried about my parents too.
After seeing my family off, I feel unsettled. Out of place. It’s an unusual feeling, like I don’t belong, like I’ve stepped into a world that isn’t mine.
And then Daniela smiles at me. Without hesitation, she loops her arm through mine, squeezing lightly.
“Don’t worry, you’ll see them again in a few days.” Her voice is warm and reassuring. It’s exactly what I need. I want to believe her but a heavy feeling hangs in my stomach. I offer a weary smile, feeling not so lonely now.
“We should get ready to leave,” I say. We’re expected to arrive in Bahia later this evening. I pray that I don’t do anything stupid when we’re on our honeymoon. It’s going to be a torturous three nights. I barely survived last night.
The jet her father provides for our honeymoon flight is smaller, more understated than what I’m used to. It’s not a Knight Enterprises jet. No state-of-the-art tech, no marble finishes, no custom upholstery. But it’s functional, and that’s all that matters.
The truth is, I don’t care about the jet. I care about the fact that I’m stuck on it with Daniela for the next two hours, because last night, something changed.
Falling asleep tangled together, waking up with her curled into me, her body warm and soft against mine, shifted things. And then, of course, the moment she saw me naked.
I need distance.
I decide to ignore her completely. Which is difficult when she’s sitting across from me, fresh-faced, effortlessly stunning. She’s not even wearing anything overtly sexy. Just a breezy white linen dress, casual and comfortable. But somehow, that makes it worse.
She’s too at ease. Too cheerful. Like she’s picked up on my mood and decided to fix it.
It puts me to shame.
“One is better,” she says, nodding toward our security detail as my bodyguard boards behind us.
“You’re a Knight now. You come under our protection.”
“They’re hardly discreet.”
Up until now we had two men, identical to every other high-end security operative, dressed in all black, wearing mirrored shades, built like linebackers with short buzzcuts. They might as well have “bodyguard” stamped on their foreheads. One was the security detail provided by her family, and I had my own. We decided to get rid of hers and settle on having just one man.
“I need to work,” I say, opening a folder, pen in hand, forcing myself to focus. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Daniela stiffen. Maybe it was the flick of my hand dismissing her. Maybe it was the coldness in my voice.
Something about it annoys her.
“You work all you want,” she mutters, ordering a cocktail from the hostess before pulling out a book.
The two-hour flight is silent.
I pretend I’m unaffected, but I’m rattled. Shook. Trying to ignore the battle raging inside me. Trying to figure out how the fuck I’m going to survive a year in close proximity to this amazing woman, when one night with her has left me feeling so adrift.
When I first agreed to it, I thought I could handle this, but no amount of pissing the old man off is worth this. I’m going to have a permanent hard-on and it’s going to be the death of me.
Hours later, we land in Bahia, on a private airstrip , where a sleek, black SUV waits on the tarmac and takes us to the resort the old man chose.
When we get there, the concierges unload our luggage as I take in the surroundings. This sprawling beachfront resort is elite. Ultra-private. With powder-white sand and impossibly clear water, its hidden away from the world. It has full catering, a personal staff, and, of course, security.
We’re met by a welcoming committee. Smiling attendants, ready with cool towels, trays of champagne, and fresh floral garlands. A few familiar faces dot the resort. Hollywood actors. CEOs. Industry titans. Daniela notices them too, her gaze lingering as a few approach.
“Well, well, well. Dexter Knight, finally tamed,” a hedge fund billionaire shakes my hand before turning to Daniela. “And this must be your lovely bride.”
He lifts her hand to his lips, holding it just a second too long. My jaw clenches, but Daniela plays the part well, offering a polite smile, engaging in easy conversation.
I don’t like it.
I don’t like the way his eyes rake over her, as she stands there, poised and effortlessly beautiful. She’s accustomed to how men like him think and behave, but I don’t like it. “Excuse us. My wife and I need to freshen up.” I take Daniela’s hand away from his, clasping it in mine. The gesture is smooth, possessive. Maybe too possessive.
The Guest Relations Director personally shows us to our villa. I know his job title because he’s proudly wearing it as a badge, and he has people take care of our luggage. He opens the door, and I see a champagne bottle waiting on ice.
I watch Daniela, see the way her eyes light up. “This is … I’ve never been someplace like this before,” she gushes.
“That’s because you’ve never been married before, sweetheart.”
“I haven’t, and now I consider myself to be the luckiest woman on the planet, darling,” she says loud enough for the guy to hear.
“We’ll take it from here,” I tell him. He nods with a smile then disappears discreetly.
“This is ... beautiful!” Daniela says as soon as we step inside the villa. I find her excitement endearing.
I have to agree. It’s breathtaking. It has a sleek modern design with glass and stone in hues of white and sand. It’s large, bright, and airy. High ceilings. Open-plan layout. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealing an uninterrupted view of the ocean. The private infinity pool stretches toward the horizon, shimmering under the golden afternoon sun. Every detail screams indulgence.
“Surely you’ve been to places like this?” I ask, puzzled. She’s from a wealthy family. Resorts like this shouldn’t be such a big surprise to her.
“I have, but this is ... on another level.”
I guess it is. The old man really wanted to impress, though, this isn’t like him. We were all supposed to return back to New York today. Him sending us here takes away the suspicion of what he’s still doing here, looking around AO Eletronica.
I follow Daniela as she opens the door to what seems to be the huge master bedroom, with an enormous bed on a raised dais.
As if performances will take place on that bed.
As if ...
She opens the balcony doors and there, right in the middle is a hot tub tucked into the sunken stone floor.
She blushes, before gliding past me, and opening another door.
This looks like the second bedroom. It’s not as big or as opulent, but still reeks of luxury. One side of the suite looks onto the resort, onto the infinity pool and recliners and tables of people relaxing by the pool side. The other side has the most spectacular panoramic views of the ocean.
“I’m getting changed,” she announces. I’m curious to see which room she takes. The concierge left our suitcases in the middle of the open plan living area. But Daniela doesn’t come into the bedroom.
When I go to retrieve my luggage, I see her suitcase placed out of the way, against one of the walls. I’m curious, but decide to play it cool, and take my suitcase into the master bedroom.
I’ve barely finished taking my clothes out of my suitcase, while running the “I don’t care about her” mantra through my head, when Daniela, my sexy and gorgeous new wife, walks out of the bedroom a few minutes later.
Flowing cover-up, sheer enough to reveal the outline of her bikini. Hair loose, skin glowing, the afternoon light catching on her cheekbones.
She’s stunning, and I hate the way my stomach tightens at the sight of her. I recall the way she snuggled up to me, the way her hand caressed my cock. Her breathless whisper of my name. Her skin has already deepened to a soft golden tan. She looks dewy, radiant, like she belongs in a place like this.
“You have work to do, I imagine.”
“Yes. I’ve got a lot to catch up on,” I lie. The emails and catching up on updates will take a while. I’m glad I’ll be distracted for a while.
“Best get on with it.” She turns on her heel and walks away, her back straight, her chin high.
It was an act. The wedding, the romance, the costumes, the smiles.
Now, it’s just us.
And reality.
Alone, in a romantic setting, For honeymooners. It’s going to be nothing but slow, painful torture.