2. Lily
Lily
W e spend the next day beside the resort pool drinking mimosas, taking the chance to really relax…
outside of our suite. My feet thank me for it, the ache in the soles of my feet easing whenever I dip them in the cool water, and even more with each downed drink.
By the time we leave, my head is fuzzy from the alcohol, so I decide a walk along the beach is the perfect way to clear my head.
“You sure you don’t want to come with me?” I come out of the bathroom to find my husband lounging back on the massive bed. His hands tucked behind his head and legs crossed at the ankle. He’s wearing dark sweats but no shirt, and my eyes linger on him, a thread of disbelief that this man is mine.
His mouth curls into a lazy grin, and butterflies take off in my belly—just as strong as the day we met, literally crashing into each other in the doorway of a cafe.
“I’m sure, sweetheart.” His voice is like honeyed whiskey, stroking over every nerve-ending in my body. “I’m sick of sand, honestly. And I didn’t sleep well last night.” He shoots me a saucy wink, and I flush with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal.
A throb of heat pulses low in my belly, urging me to crawl back into bed with him. But when I trail my eyes over his face, I can see the faint bruises under his eyes .
In the lead-up to the wedding, he’d been squirreled away in meetings more often than not, so busy that I’d barely seen him. When I’d asked Declan if there was anything he wanted to talk out with me, he’d been vague and the conversation always ended up with him distracting me away from my questions.
Apprehension trickles back in, but I ruthlessly shove it away. “Alright,” I say, grabbing my bag and shoes. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours, but I have my phone if you need me.”
He tips his chin at me, eyes already heavy-lidded, but I can’t resist leaning over the bed for one last kiss. Almost immediately, his hand curls around the back of my neck, holding me firmly as his tongue dips into my mouth, tangling against mine with sensual promise.
When I finally drag myself away with a reluctant groan, my eyes track down, watching as his tongue flicks over his swollen bottom lip, as if chasing the taste of me. My lips part on a low breath, just as dark molten eyes capture mine, pulling me in like a magnet.
I sway towards him, before blinking dazedly. He chuckles, his fingers stroking over the skin of my cheek. “Sorry, baby. Stubble burn.”
“It’s okay,” I murmur, adding dryly, “It’s not the only place you got me.” His eyes dip down over my body, tracing each curve as if he can see straight through my yellow sundress.
I take a quick step back, and his hand drops away. “I’d better go.”
He nods, eyes following me as I leave, half-shutting the bedroom door. I check I’ve got my room key before heading out, my mind still firmly back in bed with my husband.
From almost the first moment, I knew Declan Masters was it for me.
That he was the one.
It’d been the perfect meet-cute, me leaving the Sugar Bean as he was going in, his eyes down on his phone. We’d crashed into each other and the hazelnut latte in my hand had gone everywhere, luckily cold enough that it hadn’t burned me through my clothes.
Dec had apologized profusely, insisting on trying to clean me up and buying me a fresh coffee.
I’d been late for a yoga class, but he’d talked me into sharing a table with him.
By the time he’d had to leave, he was giving me his phone number and charmingly asking that I call him, so he’d have mine .
I freeze in front of the elevator, trying to remember if I actually grabbed my phone before I left.
A quick search of my bag doesn’t turn it up, so I double back, quietly opening the door to the suite just in case he’s already asleep.
My phone is right where I left it, but just as I grab it, his deep voice floats out from the bedroom.
“It’s sorted.”
I pause, positive he heard me come in, but unused to the dispassionate tone from him. Before I can open my mouth and ask, he’s talking again, “She has no idea. I’ve got it all in hand.”
He’s on the phone. My stomach swoops low, that uneasiness slithering down my spine, looking for a place to sink its fangs. I shouldn’t be listening to this, but I’m frozen, unable to move.
A hint of softness creeps into his voice. “Sweetheart, you need to trust me.”
Those fangs sink deep, and my heart leaps wildly in my chest.
He’s not talking to Carter.
It feels like I’ve stepped into an ice bath, a shudder wracking my body. My hands tremble around my phone, a voice in my head screaming at me to run, but I’m frozen in place.
“I have it all under control,” he repeats. “Just trust me, Silvia.”
Silvia.
I feel like I’m about to reenact the scene from that movie when an alien bursts out of someone’s chest. I press a hand to my heart, feeling the thunderous rhythm beneath my palm, imagining it bursting free—splintering bone, shredding through muscle—and deciding that it might hurt less than what Declan’s just done to me.
Silvia is his friend. They grew up together, their families close enough to go on holidays abroad together.
She’s also someone who hated me on sight, never missing an opportunity to slice at me with her razor-sharp tongue.
I’d mentioned it to Declan once, just telling him that she made me uncomfortable, but he’d dismissed my worries, telling me that it was just her personality and not to take anything she said personally.
I hadn’t bothered to mention it again. She was part of his life, whether I liked it or not, but I didn’t have to see her that often, so tolerating her presence hadn’t seemed like such a big ask .
Even after I’d heard her cackling with her friends about my lack of class, my gap-toothed smile, and the fact I was reaching by thinking I could ever keep someone like Declan Masters…the same man who’d always said the gap between my front teeth was endearing.
Sweetheart, trust me.
There’s a muffled footstep, like he’s moving around the bedroom. I shuffle backwards, tucking myself behind the open door and spinning wildly for an excuse if he suddenly comes in and finds me lurking.
“I’ll get the signatures when I’m back, and once everything’s in my name, I’ll end it.
” A pause before he suddenly grunts. I can almost see him, thrusting a hand through his thick blond hair as he glares off into space.
“I told you all this before we left. Silvia, for Christ’s sake.
Cut the dramatics, would you? You know this is the way it had to be done.
There was too much bad blood between us. ”
Between who?
He sighs. “Look, I can’t talk about this right now.
I need you to hold onto this for a little bit longer.
You don’t need to tell him anything…” He chuckles, but nothing about it sounds familiar.
It feels like I’m listening to a stranger, not the man I promised forever to. “We’ll catch up as soon as I’m back.”
My throat feels so thick, as if it’s closing up, and I inhale roughly, stepping back out into the hallway and slowly easing the door closed.
The click of the lock engaging sounds like a gunshot.
I trip backwards, eyes wide as I wait for it to open and for my husband to appear, full of questions and accusations.
A minute later and nothing happens, but I can’t stay here. Not when I’m sure that when he said, ‘I’ll end it’, he was talking about us .
Spinning on my heel, I practically run for the elevator, mashing the button until the doors slide open.
Relief spikes when I see it's empty, but it barely dents the adrenaline and panic racing through my system.
I hit the button for the lobby and then lift my phone, pulling up my contacts.
Scrolling frantically through them, I find the one I want, listening to it ring once before a voice answers, “Lily?”
“I need help.”