Chapter 8 #3
His shoulders shift. “Someone is taking credit for your idea?”
“Well, kind of. They are the better person to showcase it in the industry, but they don’t actually care about it.”
“So is your passion about the idea or getting credit for it?”
My brows lance together as I part my lips in retort. Before I can say anything, our eyes catch on someone bashing on the locked
door. David jumps out of the pool and opens it, leans in to talk to the person, and then turns back toward the pool.
He swivels his head around to the rest of us. “Security is coming!”
Everyone in the pool frantically swims toward the steps, grabbing from a pyramid of rolled-up towels stacked like firewood
and running into the changing rooms.
Oliver grunts as he leans upright. “We better go. If they find us, we’ll get thrown out of the hotel.” He says it so casually
like it’s more of an inconvenience than anything.
My eyes widen in disbelief. “What? You didn’t think of mentioning that when we got here? I can’t get chucked out.”
“We’d better get a move on then.” The Britishisms sound even weirder with his accent.
We grab the empty bottles and pace toward the door, but when we get to the door handle, Oliver backs up and reaches out for
me behind him. Before I have a chance to think, I grab onto his hand, his warm fingers curling around mine.
He whispers, “Without sounding like a Scooby-Doo character, we’ve got company.”
The fluorescent lights flick on in the corridor on the other side of the door, the light making me squint as we both step
back.
“Everybody put your clothes on and get out,” a booming Italian voice echoes out from the changing room, followed by light
whines, protests, and feet shuffling en masse.
“Shit. I can’t get kicked out,” I whisper, squeezing his hand.
“Then we have to hide,” he says.
My head spins around the spa until my gaze drops to the Jacuzzi circled by large Greek columns. Without a word, I drop our
bottles and my phone and gun it for the tub, pulling Oliver behind me as I carefully step in. I’ve been in a body of water
fully clothed and shoed, and I hope to never again, but this hiding spot feels like a no-brainer; it’s shrouded in darkness,
so they’ll think they’ve caught everyone already.
My clothes bulge with air as I become submerged up to my chin, gesturing for Oliver to get in too. The Jacuzzi is right at
the very end of the pool area, and with my back to the columns, we can’t be seen by security if they don’t explore the entire
space.
His face contorts in confusion as he joins me under the rippling surface. “I thought you didn’t like water? Or couldn’t swim
or something.”
“No, I just didn’t feel like taking my clothes off in front of a group of colleagues,” I snap. As a whisper, it sounds incredibly
sarcastic, but before the security guard gets here, we don’t have time for me to explain how I’m not judging everyone else’s
choices, just living with the regret of my own.
He flattens out my inflated shoulders, the touch making me shiver despite the hundred-degree temperature of the hot tub. “If it’s any consolation, the Michelin Man look suits you,” he murmurs.
The security guard’s footsteps get closer and closer, the sound like a ticking clock as he rhythmically scans the area. My
fist forms around Oliver’s shirt, pulling him out of view and next to me at the edge. His eyes flare when his side bashes
into mine. He floats closer to me, the water rippling and hiding most of my body with his. We both duck down, mouths just
above the water as though the clear liquid will camouflage us. The light skims over the floor above, just narrowly missing
the tops of our heads. Oliver rests his head over my shoulder and I turn my face toward him, hoping the cover from his dark
hair will shade my features even further than the shadows.
As the footsteps get slower and closer, a cold shot of adrenaline courses through me. My chest heaves again, this time for
a different reason. My mind runs through all the consequences of getting caught, but the potential scenario that blares loudest
is getting kicked out of the competition. All of this for nothing.
Two flashlights chase each other over the tiles, showcasing parts of the room in a violent white light. I swallow, my heartbeat
pounding so hard I’m shocked it doesn’t make ripples in the water. We stay completely still, only my occasional held and caught
breath punctuating the silence.
A quiet buzzing sounds from the pool loungers where we were just sat. My body atrophies as I realize it’s my phone. The two
men turn their lights away from the edges of the hot tub toward the loungers.
Oliver whispers into my ear, “Try to breathe normally,” the warmth of his mouth a calm compress against my anxiety.
“I am,” I whisper; my pulse runs with a mixture of icy fear and sweating desire. “And this isn’t some professional crusade.”
“What?” he mouths, barely a sound coming out over the echo of their footsteps and the continuous muffled vibration from my
phone. I wonder for a second if it’s Spencer calling to apologize.
“What you said over there.” I glance in the direction of the illuminated loungers. “I’m not out to get credit; I just want
to do things the right way.” He stares at me, almost impressed that I can manage a stressful situation and still have a bone
to pick with him.
Finally, my phone stops ringing, plunging all four of us into a humming silence.
“Do you mean your way?” he asks into my ear; I can hear the fucking smirk on his lips. “Ever heard of a compromise? We all have to do things
we don’t want to do.”
My eyebrows meet in the middle. I want to ask what he means, but before I have a chance to, my whole body jolts as the sound
of a walkie-talkie’s static blasts through the air. The water sloshing around us, I press in closer, his taut body holding
me steady.
“Tutto okay?” a crackling voice asks down the line.
“Va tutto bene,” the man standing just feet from our floating foreheads confirms as his footsteps slowly dissipate toward the door. Waiting
until the door clicks shut, Oliver lets out a breath, then huffs a laugh, lifting his head so we’re face-to-face.
He runs a wet hand over his face, then through his hair, and I don’t know if it’s the wine or the adrenaline or this day or
his full lips, but I’m worryingly close to making out with this man in a hot tub.
“You okay?” he asks, inspecting my face.
“Yeah,” I say breathily, “just a bit wired.”
“I know how we can work all this adrenaline off.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“Seriously?” I say, rolling my eyes as an electric thrill chases the blood pumping at top speed around my body. The feeling
marbleizes in my chest.
“I feel like it would do you a world of good.” He steps forward toward me, then sinks into the water until fully submerged.
After a few seconds, I hear a muffled shout under the surface, bubbles appearing on the surface.
I laugh, close my eyes, go under, and scream. Letting everything from the past couple of days out into the warm abyss.
Eventually, we both come up for air. My mind is empty of stress, like a fresh lump of clay ready to mold to whatever comes
next. Panting and laughing, which quickly disintegrates into shallow breaths and held stares. The way he’s looking at me turns
my blood into strawberry jam.
Maybe I’m riding the high of not getting caught, but before I can think of a reason not to, I tug his wet shirt toward me
and kiss him. I’m unsure of anything as his hand runs up the back of my neck to pull me in closer.
The kiss grows deeper, rougher, and more wanting than exploratory as I urge him closer. Our tongues graze, tasting the sweet,
bitter red wine and Negroni that fueled us at full velocity toward this situation. A soft moan releases from my chest when
his fingers grip my hair a little tighter until I come up on tiptoes to meet him. He nudges his thigh between mine and eases
me against the edge of the hot tub. The cold tile above the surface at odds with the heat of the water surrounding us.
His erection presses against my thigh, water dripping from his hands as he runs his thumb over my cheek. He pulls back, surveying my body like I’m fucking edible.
My head spins as I try to catch my breath under his dark gaze. I know I should stop, but Cecily’s words ring in my ear: I
need a break, I need a night off from myself, I need fun.
My voice comes out low, soft, and breathless. “Wanna get out of here?”