Chapter 21
Bex
Theo and I do not have to film a passionate scene when I arrive at the Naples airport because we have theoretically arrived here together for our honeymoon.
Not that I want to film a passionate scene, but I’m willing to sacrifice for my art. If that art is fake marriage.
He’s not getting in until later, so I take a car to Sorrento, a delightful little seaside town near the Amalfi Coast known mostly for its natural beauty and the fact that its residents only eat and drink things made of lemons.
I may have made up that last fact, but it seems true.
They even carry a bag of lemons during religious ceremonies… I guess in case someone’s hungry.
I collapse in my hotel bed and wake in the afternoon to shower and have my hair blown out.
Giovanna speaks almost no English, so I do my best to make her teach me Italian as she works, and by the time she’s done, my hair is under control and I know how to say “Theo, it turns out your penis is not impressive after all” in a second language.
Hopefully she’s not friends with Kylie and Jasper.
When Giovanna’s gone, I open the garment bag that was delivered to my room before I arrived and pull out the list Mindy sent along.
Today, she says, is “classy casual,” which apparently means designer denim shorts, a crisp Saint James Breton tee, and Hermès sandals.
While I’m pretty sure I’d rather die than wear incredibly expensive sandals for a day of hardcore sightseeing and would definitely opt for a tank instead of a long-sleeved shirt, it could be worse. Given how many dresses are in this bag, I assume it’s going to get worse soon enough.
Theo stands near the hotel’s revolving door, typing something on his phone. He’s been in this country for a matter of hours yet is somehow already tan. He seems to get better looking every time we’re reunited—it has to be wizardry.
As I walk toward him, I’m remembering every kiss we’ve ever had—the day we met, the wedding, the airport in Amsterdam.
I’m thinking about how badly I’d like to not simply walk toward him but walk into him, hard, so that we are pressed against each other, close enough that he could easily wrap a hand around my jaw as he kissed me.
He glances up and then his eyes rake over me, head to toe. If he were anyone else, I’d say it looks like his thoughts are similar to mine.
“Wife,” he says softly as I reach him.
“Good afternoon, husband,” I reply. My voice is too silky, too soft. It’s pathetic. Perhaps we should just fuck to get it out of the way.
Outside, the streets are full of tourists and pop-up markets, and I see now why Lars said we’ll be doing a lot of our filming early in the day…
getting through this mess with a camera crew would be tough.
I can smell the sea from here, even if I can’t see it.
The air is damp, the sun is hot, but there’s a gentle breeze tempering all of it.
I weave through the crowd, which is hemmed in by tall butter-yellow buildings on either side of the street and head in the direction of Via Aniello Califano, where today’s shoot will begin.
Theo hovers close as we walk, his hand on the small of my back, glaring so ferociously at a man who steps in front of me that the guy goes wide-eyed and scuttles away.
He doesn’t question how I know where I’m going this time, and it hits me that he wasn’t entirely wrong in London, when he said I’m not incautious.
I’ve studied every itinerary for the show thus far.
I’ve looked up the maps and the history, and I’ve set multiple alarms so that I don’t miss a flight.
A small shiver runs over my skin. It’s almost as if I’m an entirely different person than everyone thought. Than even I thought.
We turn another corner and suddenly the Gulf of Naples is spread out below us like a gift. I glance at him, expecting to see wonder in his eyes. But he barely seems to notice the view.
“I remember who Brian is,” he says. “The idiot who was texting you. Your father hated him.”
My tongue prods the inside of my cheek. “Don’t start bringing up my dead father to guilt me about my love life, okay?”
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m not. I’m just pointing out that Brian was a knob long before the passport incident, so you shouldn’t still be with him.”
“I’m not with him,” I say, exasperated. “He texts me when he gets home late and he’s drunk, and I remind him I’m married, okay? That has, thus far, been the extent of our correspondence since our nuptials, but I don’t really owe you an explanation when you aren’t explaining anything to me.”
He frowns. “How the hell would I explain your relationship with a guy who stole your passport?”
I glare at him. “You know that’s not who I’m talking about.”
He pushes his sunglasses farther up the bridge of his nose. “Not every story is mine to tell, Rebecca. That’s why I’m not discussing it. And the fact that you’re continuing to correspond with a man who clearly doesn’t deserve your time is bizarre.”
“Look, haven’t you just had someone in your life that you keep going back to? Someone who’s convenient? And then you try to end it and date someone normal and that goes even worse?”
His jaw locks, as if I’ve struck a nerve. “How could it go worse than a guy who stole your passport?”
He has a point, but at least Brian was interesting and his weirdness was the sort I could live with. “I’d end things with Brian and try to date his opposite,” I reply after a moment. “I’d go out with someone boring and responsible—”
“Like me.”
I grin. “You beat me to the joke.” Although…
Theo might be responsible but he definitely isn’t boring.
Every time he growls my name or looks me over with that thing in his eyes, I’m weak with how not boring I find him.
“Yes, boring and responsible like you. And it’s awkward and dull, but I keep telling myself it’s better than Brian, even though it isn’t, and then the guy ends up being incredibly weird. ”
“Weird how?”
I glance around us to get my bearings, then head down the hill toward the water. “The last guy I dated while Brian and I were on a break was a lawyer. Not a single tattoo. Kept trying to get me to start an IRA. You’d have loved him.”
“Was the weird part the lack of tattoos or the fact that he was gainfully employed?”
I elbow him. “Those aspects were distasteful, yes, but the weird thing is that when we were finally about to hook up, he said—”
“That he wanted to wait for marriage.”
“No. He said, ‘I want to put it in your butt.’ ”
Theo stopped walking entirely. “What?”
“He said he wanted to put it in my butt,” I repeat.
“Which was troubling on two levels. One, because we hadn’t even slept together yet and he was already pushing for anal.
But two, that he was otherwise such a goody-goody that he couldn’t bring himself to use the word ass.
It was like being graphically propositioned by a ten-year-old boy. ”
We start walking again. I’d expected him to laugh—I personally find the story amusing—but instead he’s silent for a long moment.
“Did you let him?” he blurts suddenly.
I frown. “Did I let him what?”
His tongue prods his cheek, as if this conversation he initiated is pissing him off. “Did you let him do it.”
“Are you actually asking me if I let him have anal?”
He sighs. “Apparently I’ve turned into you.”
I’m equal parts dumbfounded and pleased by this turn of events, and something warms inside me. “You really have. I’m putting this on TikTok.” I open my phone and pretend to type. “Theo Porter, middle-aged British male, just asked a virtual stranger—”
“To whom he’s married…and I’m not middle-aged—”
“—if she let a weird lawyer have anal.” I glance up from my phone and back down again. “Ah. Your mom just liked my post.”
“With a handle like @cumslut69, I’d assume she would,” he drawls, but there’s no humor in his voice. “And I don’t think you should allow one strange lawyer to put you off all men but Brian.”
“Italian Tinder it is,” I pronounce.
He narrows his eyes as he opens the door to the building. “I imagine it’s just called Tinder here too, and that’s in no way what I was suggesting.”
Since we’re now inside, and have five flights of stairs to trudge up, I don’t bother to ask what he was suggesting in lieu of Italian Tinder. I doubt it would have been fun anyway.
I’m winded by the time we finally enter the flat, where the crew are setting up inside the open doors, with the sea just past them.
“Wow,” Theo says.
“For a cheap bastard, you sure splashed out for this part of the—” My gaze meets Caden’s and the final word escapes me. I’d actually allowed myself to hope he was off on Leo’s yacht this week. I loathe the way he is looking me over right now…as if he’s already had me and plans to do it again.
Lars says something to Katrina and then turns to us.
“Hey guys, we’ve decided to film a little out of order, because the harbor is clear and we can currently see all the way to Capri.
You’ve got to take your shots when you get them.
Anyhow, right now we’re going to do your ‘first morning in Sorrento’ scene.
It really isn’t a big deal, just a way to introduce you to the viewer and make you seem like any other couple. ”
“So are we just, like, drinking coffee or something?” I ask.
Lars and Paula glance at each other and laugh quietly. It’s that laugh that puts me on high alert.
“Not exactly,” Lars says. “But let’s start small. Bex, I need you in a robe so it looks like you’ve just woken up.”
I stiffen. I’m hardly modest, but the robe he nods toward, hanging off the back of the bathroom door, is basically just a slip of semi-sheer silk that will barely cover my ass.
Swallowing, I go into the bathroom to change. I remove everything but my panties and emerge feeling naked. I must look pretty naked too, given the horror on Theo’s face and the smug grin on Caden’s. I cross my arms over my chest as I walk across the room.