Chapter 5
five
EDEN
I wake up with a start, my eyes flying open as I take in the unfamiliar room, relief washing through me when I realize I’m not still in a jail cell.
And then I jolt again when I see West. He’s sitting in a chair in the corner, fully dressed, his legs stretched out, his thumb brushing his jaw, like he’s been waiting for me to wake up.
“What are you doing in here?” I ask, my voice groggy with sleep. I stretch my arms and something digs into my ribs. I’m still wearing that stupid dress. And the memory of last night comes flooding back.
Oh God.
He doesn’t blink. “I’m looking at my wife.”
I roll my eyes at him, because I’m almost certain he’s trying to be funny. “Take your time,” I tell him. “Because I won’t be your wife for long.”
He tips his head to the side, not reacting at all. It’s unnerving.
This is West, I remind myself. My brother’s easy going, laid back best friend. I’ve seen him joke around in the ocean, crack dumb jokes at family barbecues, fall asleep on our couch with a beer in his hand.
But that guy’s not in this room.
He leans forward, forearms resting on his thighs. “About that. There’s been a change of plan.”
My heart thumps once, loud and stupid. “What kind of change?” I give him a pointed look. “If you still want me to consummate the marriage, you’re way out of line, buddy.”
This time his mouth twitches. And for a second his gaze rakes over my body before he brings it firmly back to my face. “There’ll be no consummation. We’re just going to stay married for a few months.”
The way he says it – like it’s a done deal – makes my hackles rise. I shake my head. “No, that’s not what we agreed to. You said you’d fix this. Right away.”
He runs his thumb along his jaw. “Yes, well that was before one of my biggest investors found out I got married.” He says it slowly, like he’s still getting used to the idea himself.
“What? How? Who knows we got married?” My voice lifts an octave. I get onto my knees, crawl across the bed, because Jesus, if Hudson knows I need to hop the next flight out of the country. “Tell me.”
“Can you stop crawling toward me like something out of The Ring?” he asks.
I freeze mid-crawl.
“And nobody knows except Riva and his team. Plus his cousin. My investor. The big problem.”
Okay, this is getting above my pay grade. I sit back on my heels and give him a pointed look. “Who is Riva’s cousin?”
“It doesn’t matter. All you need to know is that he’s very happy I got married at his cousin’s casino and he’s verbally agreed to a huge cash boost for the resort.”
“What resort?” I ask him, because none of this is making sense.
“The one we’re building on Liberty.”
I blink. “You’re building a resort on my island?” I know it’s been a while since I’ve been home, but it hasn’t been that long. I mentally search through the conversations with my family. Nope, I don’t remember them mentioning a resort.
And you didn’t ask. I ignore the pang of guilt in my stomach. I’m not great at keeping in touch with people.
And for not great, read, absolutely terrible.
“Hudson’s island,” he corrects. “And mine and Parker’s.”
I grimace, because technically he’s right. A few years ago, Hudson, Parker, and West – my brother and his two best friends – bought most of the island back after my dad gambled it away. Then they renovated the old Victorian Grand Liberty Hotel that had been rotting on the cliffs for years.
But it’s still my island, at least in my heart. The place where I climbed trees barefoot and swam until my skin wrinkled. Where everything smelled like ocean salt and honeysuckle and second chances.
And maybe that’s why I haven’t been back in so long.
Because even now, thinking about Liberty still feels a little like failure.
“You were going to Liberty anyway,” West says with an easy voice, dragging me out of my thoughts. “To see your sister. So this just… extends your stay a little.”
I stare at him, because of course he makes this sound easy. “You’re unbelievable, do you know that? I’m only going to Liberty for a visit. A quick one. Maybe a week at most. I wasn’t planning to take a damn honeymoon.”
His brows lift. “We won’t be honeymooning.”
“Good, because you’re not my type.” I wrinkle my nose. I’m annoyed now, with him and with myself.
He ignores me – of course he does – and continues like this is some kind of strategy meeting. “You’ll stay at the North House with me. It’s furnished. Quiet. Ocean views. And far enough from the hotel to keep things under wraps.”
“What’s the North House?” I ask. There’s no north house on Liberty Island.
“The one I had built last year for extended site visits. And contingencies like this.”
Oh. That’s so typically him, building a whole house while I wasn’t looking. For a year. He already has an apartment at the main hotel, the greedy asshole.
“You built a secret Bond villain lair on my island?” I say, mostly because I want to annoy him. Good god, they’re going to Disney-fy the most beautiful place I know. And I don’t like it. Not one little bit.
“It’s not your island,” he corrects, cool as ever. “And it’s not a secret. If you ever visited you would have heard all about this.”
I blink. “Let me get this straight. You want me to stay in your secret house, pretend to be your wife, and what? Knit your socks while you and your mobbed-up investor play house?”
“You don’t need to pretend to be my wife.
Not publicly. That would raise questions with your family that we don’t need.
” He says it like he’s reading off a PowerPoint.
“The marriage is between you and me. Nobody close to us needs to know.” He clears his throat.
“And never mention the mob to my investor. He’d hate that. ”
I fling my arms up. “Then what’s the point in us staying married?”
“I don’t want to rock the boat until the money comes in. Once it does, you can do whatever you like. That’s fine by me.”
I scowl. “I don’t believe this. You’re using me to make money.”
He meets my gaze, unflinching. “Look at it this way. As my wife, you can have an input into the resort. Tell me where I’m being unenvironmentally friendly. Give me suggestions for improvement.”
I hate that my body warms at this. But I really am passionate about ecology. “You want my advice?”
“We can call you Head of Environmental Development,” he says, smiling because he can tell I’m interested. “If you love Liberty as much as you say, you’ll want to protect it.”
I fold my arms, my eyes narrowing. “That’s bribery. And not a real job.”
“It’s absolutely a real job. And that’s what we’re going to tell Hudson and your family. And that’s why you’ll insist on staying at the North House, because you don’t trust me not to screw up the island’s ecosystem.”
“Where will you stay?” I ask him. And this time he laughs. I want to slap his stupidly handsome face.
“With you. At my house.”
God, he’s got it all worked out. While I snored the early hours of the morning away, he plotted our future.
“You can’t just—”
“I already did.” He pulls out his phone like he’s ready to go.
“What’s a few months?” he asks me. “Once the second tranche of the investment is in, we’ll file for the annulment.
And it’s not as though you have anywhere else to go.
You’ve been living out of hostels and camping your way through global protests.
Which is noble,” he says, though his expression disagrees. “But now your brother and I need you.”
“He’s invested in this too?” I ask, my stomach tightening.
“Up to the neck. Same as me and Parker. You back out now and it’s not only me who suffers. Hudson loses his share too.”
God, he even uses Hudson like a pawn. And it’s working. Because now I’m picturing my brother counting on me in a way he never has before. And it makes me want to scream.
West watches me for a moment, his expression so neutral it makes me shiver. Then one corner of his mouth lifts, like he already knows he’s won.
I huff out a breath and slide off the bed, the stupid wedding dress rustling against my legs.
“Where are you going?” West asks, standing as I pass him.
“To the bathroom. I feel dirty.” I need to think up a plan to get out of this. And when he’s looking at me I can’t think straight.
He shrugs. “Take your time. I’ll still be here when you realize there’s no other option.”
I slam the door behind me harder than necessary, flipping the lock as I climb out of the stupid wedding dress and toss it to the floor.
Because if he thinks this is settled, he has no idea who he married. There’s no way I’m playing happy families with him for the next few months.
I finish rough-drying my hair and tie the hotel robe tight around my waist, the thick fabric warm against my still-damp skin. It’s not exactly a power suit, but it’s better than walking out there in a fluffy ballgown or the paint splattered outfit that stinks of jail.
And then I slide the bathroom door open and step into the suite’s living area just in time to hear West say, “No, scrap that. I don’t need the annulment papers anymore.”
He’s lounging on the sofa, phone to his ear, his voice cool and confident, as if he’s got the world on a short leash. Like I’m a foregone conclusion.
Yeah, well good luck with that, buddy.
I clear my throat and he glances up, clocking the firmly closed robe and wild freshly-dried waves tumbling over my shoulders. The expression on my face probably screams, I’ve just made a deal with the devil and he’s about to regret it.
“I’ll call you back,” he murmurs to whoever he’s talking to, his eyes still locked on mine. “Yeah. Let’s do that. Talk later.”
He ends the call, sets his phone down, and leans back, one leg crossed over the other, arms draped along the back of the couch like a man who owns everything in sight.
Including, apparently, me.
“Is there a problem, wife?”
I grit my teeth. If he calls me that one more time I swear I’ll tear his tongue out.
Don’t bother. He’ll probably just grow another one. It’s weird because I’ve never seen this side of him before. He’s so… ruthless. I guess I’ve only ever known the laid back off-the-clock West. I’m not sure I like this version.
Refusing to let him put me off my stride, I smile sweetly at him. “Not at all, darling. But I do have a question for you.”
West doesn’t even blink at the endearment. He’s wearing another fresh suit. His shirt is perfectly pressed, his tie expertly knotted.
“Ask away, sweetheart,” he counters.
I ignore the way my heart stutters at that. And then I take a deep breath, because this is going to work. There’s no way this man is going to do anything other than rush for an annulment once I’ve said my piece.
“How exactly are you planning to survive the next few months when you’re not allowed to have sex with anyone else?” I ask triumphantly
His brow lifts. Just a fraction.
And it feels like I’ve finally won something.