Bound to be Bad (Blood Money Billionaire #7)
Chapter 1
A Particularly Good-Looking Sandwich
IVY
“Are you looking forward to tonight?” I ask, brushing my just-washed hair.
Alistair and I are meeting up with the group staying at The Palacio, and I feel a heady mix of apprehension and arousal.
“I am,” he replies, buttoning up his elegant white collared shirt. His tanned skin looks absolutely luscious. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m a particularly good-looking sandwich.”
“Well,” I say, smirking, “that’s probably because you are a particularly good-looking sandwich.”
The resort has been incredible so far—of course it has.
It’s a whole new world for me: these open-minded people who treat taboos as something to be broken.
I still find it hard to believe people actually live and vacation like this.
I love being among them. I love how receptive and nonjudgmental everyone is.
When Madison—the American Beauty—invited us to join them tonight, I was thrilled and anxious.
I had no idea what to expect, and I didn’t know how Alistair would handle me being naked in front of other men.
We’d already broken the ice in a way; they had watched us fuck on the beach before we ran into the ocean.
Alistair looks ready, but it’s still too early. He glances at his watch. “I’ll order some champagne.”
“Great idea, thank you. I won’t be much longer.”
There isn’t much need for makeup or accessories here.
People wear light linens and go barefoot—if they wear anything at all.
Aside from my nerves about the party, this is the most relaxed I’ve felt in years.
The danger is finally behind us, and we have a beautiful life ahead.
The family is safe. Ari is back and blissfully happy with Henderson.
Becks is not only my best friend again but also my business partner in the Ariana Foundation.
Baby Alex is thriving and almost ready to take his first steps.
Jamie is settled in his new bachelor pad and has passed his driver’s license.
For once in my life, I feel secure—emotionally and financially—and perfectly placed to do what I’m meant to do.
My heart squeezes as I think of Isobel and the secret she shared on my wedding day.
How cruel it feels to finally get the whole family safe and reunited, only to be hit with such a terrifying diagnosis.
I have a deep, abiding respect for the matriarch of the Ravenscroft family, and the thought of her not being here to watch her grandchildren grow up breaks my heart—especially after everything she’s done.
I wish there was something I could do, but I know she’s already explored every possible avenue of treatment.
“That’s not a champagne face,” Alistair says, walking in with a rose-gold wine cooler tinkling with ice.
“Only been married a couple of days and you’re already tired of my face,” I joke.
Alistair doesn’t laugh. “That is never going to happen.” He pops the cork and pours us each a glass. “To tonight,” he says, “and whatever it may bring.”
I push Isobel’s diagnosis out of my mind. There will be time to process it later. We clink glasses.
“You okay?”
“Perfectly,” I reply. “What if we hate the party tonight?”
Alistair comes up behind me and presses his warm body against mine. “You’re not going to hate it.”
I turn in his arms. We’re standing so close I can feel the day’s sunshine radiating from his skin. Fuck. Do I really want to share him?
“You’re going to love it,” he assures me. “And they’re going to love you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you, Ivy Mickelson.”
“That’s not my name anymore.”
“Still like it. I like everything about you.”
“Even my sad old face?”
“Even your sad old face. Your no-champagne face.”
“Do you know,” I drawl, “I still can’t look at a champagne bottle without remembering that night at the club.”
The human chocolate fountain. The woman in the cage. The office party where all the finance bros fucked the woman in the power suit. And, of course, the vintage champagne bottle Alistair had shocked me with. It wasn’t that long ago, but it feels like a lifetime. So much has changed.
Alistair gives me a wicked smile. “That was an altogether different champagne face.”