CHAPTER 10 Archer Bradley
No Reason to Dwell
I squint against the bright morning light as it streams into my room. I’m groggy this morning after a little more whiskey than usual, followed by the type of night I haven’t had since…
Well, maybe ever.
Tatum and I had some marathons, sure. But this was something else entirely.
I turn over, expecting to find Millie beside me, but her side of the bed is empty.
I reach over to see if it’s still warm, and to my surprise…it’s not.
The sheets are cool. It’s like she was never here. Like I imagined the whole night in a whiskey-infused hallucination.
I swing my feet over the side of the bed as I run a hand along my jawline. I head to the bathroom, and I spot the condom wrapper in the garbage can.
Aha! I didn’t imagine it.
But why would she just…leave?
A ripple of disappointment lances through me.
I didn’t feel like anyone would be able to break through the darkness that has pulled me under for the last few months. I didn’t think there was a chance I’d feel at ease with another person again. But last night with her, it felt like maybe I could again. It felt like there was potential there.
But now she’s gone, and I’m more upset by that than I should be.
There has to be some reason. Connections like we shared don’t happen every day.
Or maybe they do, and I was with Tatum so long that I was never able to experience it.
I should let it go. I should move on. There’s no reason to dwell. We both knew it was a one-night thing. No hard feelings, right?
Except my feelings are hard, and I want to know where the fuck she went.
I thought I’d be able to check my feelings at the door. Apparently I’m a bit more sensitive than I realized.
I’m still healing from a broken heart. This was just supposed to be one night of fun, no strings, no feelings.
Yeah, that didn’t happen. Maybe I’m not cut out for that life, which is a real shame since I could have a different woman in my bed every night I’m here if I wanted to. And I do want to. But I don’t think I can. It’s just not me.
I try to push Millie out of my mind, but she’s everywhere in this suite—including the bathroom, where I take care of business, brush my teeth, and pull on my swim trunks. I spot her palm print on the window, and I grab a towel from the bathroom to rub off the fingerprints.
It doesn’t matter. I remember how it felt.
One more thing to add into the mix of memories sitting on the table.
I stare at the basket of sex amenities as I contemplate what to do.
My illicit promise from last night comes back to me as my eyes fall onto the ruby on a ring. You’re not leaving this resort without trying this on for size.
If nothing else, I have to find the girl so I can shove this plug up her ass and watch as her eyes roll back in pleasure as I fuck her cunt again. Just one more time.
Eventually, I text Clive.
Me: Do I text you or call room service to order breakfast?
Clive: You can text me your order, and I can have it to you in twenty minutes or less.
I send him my order.
Clive: Anything for any guests?
This is my chance, and I take it.
Me: No, but I need info on the woman who spent the night here. She’s staying in this tower, and I believe her name is Millie or Milly.
Clive: Of course, sir. I will see what I can do.
As promised, there’s a knock on my door fifteen minutes later. Clive wheels in a cart with my food on it, and he sets the plate and drinks on the table.
“I’ve searched for information on your guest, but as the hotel adheres to strict guest privacy, I am unable to retrieve any identifying information,” he says once he has set up my breakfast for me.
I frown. “You sure?” I reach for my wallet, and I pull out a hundred.
His eyes move toward the bill before they flick back to mine. “As I was saying, guest privacy is of the utmost importance here at Paradise Island. If I shared her information with you, I would be obligated to share your information with other guests who offered me a monetary benefit as well.”
I nod. “Of course. Thanks anyway.”
He nods. “If there’s anything else?”
“What’s going on at the pool?” I ask.
“The pool for this tower offers privacy in an adults-only atmosphere with both relaxing amenities and social entertainment. We offer a swim-up bar, musical entertainment, poolside games, and various tasting events. I’m able to reserve you a cabana if you’re interested.
You can text me for food orders from the pool as well as book a poolside massage or other spa treatment. ”
I raise my brows. It really is paradise here, which is great…but I’ve been here less than eighteen hours, and I’m already getting a little antsy. The pool should be a place to hang out and relax, though to be honest, I’m not exactly sure I know how to relax.
“What other activities are there?” I ask.
“We offer a variety of excursions, from private fishing charters to snorkeling, culinary walking tours, historical tours, any type of cruise you’d like, various animal encounters, luxury shopping trips, and helicopter tours over the islands.
I can get you some brochures if you’re interested, or I can set up an appointment with our activities director to help you plan your stay. ”
It all sounds like a lot. Where do I start? I could likely plan something for every day I’m here. Try every excursion.
Part of me wants to.
Part of me wants to figure out how to relax.
“Not yet. Thanks, Clive. I better get to my breakfast while it’s hot.”
He nods and excuses himself, and I sit down to my breakfast as I look out over the view of the beach.
I sip my coffee and make my decision for day one: the pool. Not a cabana yet. I’ll check out the state of things first before I decide on that. Besides, it’s already after ten. I doubt any would be available this late in the morning.
When I get down there, I find the towel hut first and help myself to two.
I walk around the perimeter of the pool, looking for an open lounge chair.
It’s crowded, especially if I want a chair that doesn’t have someone sitting directly next to it and offers some shade.
I spot a couple on the other side from where I’m standing, so I start my trek over there.
I’m rounding the far side of the pool when I hear a voice that sounds familiar, and I turn in her direction.
My eyes fall onto a woman with dark hair currently pulled back into a ponytail as she talks to her phone. She’s wearing sunglasses and a red bikini with white polka dots, and I’d recognize that body anywhere.
I take a step toward her, but it’s the words coming out of her mouth that have me pausing mid-step.
“I had to leave a perfectly warm bed far too early, but resort yoga was absolutely worth it. My instructor this morning was Tati, and there’s really nothing like sun salutations on the beach in paradise.
Ten out of ten, highly recommend. I followed that up with breakfast in the Coast Tower, and—” She freezes as she spots me standing a few feet away from her chair.
This doesn’t seem like a phone call.
When you’re talking to someone on the phone, you wait for them to reply, but she doesn’t.
I can’t tell if she’s filming a video or if she’s actually live right now on social media.
But…why?
“And that was fantastic, too. Check out this morning’s carousel post for more.
That’s all for now, champagne travelers!
Catch you with more Millie’s Miles soon.
” She presses a button on her phone and stands to greet me.
“Archer! Hi! I tried to get back up to your room this morning, but I didn’t have the key for the elev—” She stops mid-word.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“What are you doing?”
“I was on a live,” she says.
“A live?” My brows push together in confusion.
She clears her throat and leans in a little, the scent of coconuts from her sunscreen taking over my senses. That, paired with the way her cleavage is glistening and those perfect tits covered by a bikini top with just enough exposed to help my imagination run wild, pulses an ache deep within me.
Until her next words.
“I’m a travel blogger. Or, a travel influencer now, I guess.” Her voice is low, as if she doesn’t want anyone around us to hear what she’s doing. “The resort is comping my stay in exchange for content.”
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. Harder than that, even. It’s like I was following the ball and ran smack into the outfield wall instead of paying attention to my surroundings.
That entire sentence, this entire situation, all of it feels so…wrong.
Like she deceived me. Like I was nothing more than a chance for her to go viral.
Fuck.
Wait a minute.
Did she know who I was? Is that why she sat with me last night?
“What the fuck?” I snarl. “I’m here trying to lay low, and you’re here trying to go viral?”
“I mean, yeah, viral is always a target, but back up a second. Why are you here trying to lay low?”
“Like you don’t know,” I hiss. “Stay away from me.”
I spin on my heel to head the opposite direction from her, but she’s rushing after me, grabbing my arm before I get too far. “Wait! Archer!”
“What?” I growl, spinning back toward her.
“There was something between us last night. You know there was.”
“So? There was something between me and my bacon this morning, too. But it’s gone now, just like you were when I woke up this morning.
I’ll get over it.” I tear my arm from her grasp and walk away, and rather than finding a nice empty chair here at the pool, I decide to just head the fuck back up to my room where I can sit and seethe in privacy without having to worry that someone is going to take advantage of my status to go viral.
What a fucking disaster.
My first one-night stand. Boy, I sure do know how to pick them.