Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
LEXI
After talking to Deshni for over an hour, I barely had time for a bite to eat.
I wanted to take a breather after lunch, but I’ve had zero luck with that.
All I managed was to race back to our cottage for a sanitary check-in and a five-minute crawl under the bed to locate my MIA wand.
I found it in my bedside drawer, battery dead and charger misplaced.
I’m trying not to be embarrassed by the whole situation. Housekeeping now knows about my toy. So what? During my student days as a cleaner, I came across enough situations to write a book. But still… I’m supposed to be freshly engaged, in love, and in no need of help in that department.
With a shrug, I head out to the beach to meet Matthias de Foch, some rich tech guy from Amsterdam, who comes to Ne’emba at least three times a year. The fact that he’s single this time is apparently noteworthy, and for his sister’s wedding of all things.
I can spot trouble a mile away, and in the case of Matthias de Foch, red lights and sirens erupt in my head as soon as he clambers out of the floatplane.
I know his type: rich and not necessarily by his own efforts.
Often generational wealth serves as a springboard to greater wealth.
And with that comes a sense of entitlement and arrogance that nothing can peg down a notch.
Inwardly I groan, even as I plaster on a smile. “Welcome to Ne’emba Island. We’re so glad you’re back—”
“You’re new! Thank God. Where’s that wilted old couple who ran the show a couple of months ago?” Matthias’s eyes travel over my face and lower to my breasts as if I came with the room he’s booked.
“Miriam and Don left at the beginning of January. I’m Lexi O’Reilly, the new manager here.
” I reluctantly hold my hand out, and he engulfs it in his own big, strong, beautifully manicured hand.
Of course Matthias de Foch is nothing but tall and gorgeous, with blond hair streaked with sunlight and blue eyes so piercing, it’s like staring into the heart of a glacier.
His smile is perfect, but those über-whites glint in the sun like a wolf’s fangs.
Yep, in my experience, he’s the type who would ask for two room keys when checking in, even if he’s staying as a single, only to hand one key back to the dumbstruck receptionist with five hundred dollars folded around it.
The first time someone solicited sex from me like that, it took several minutes to sink in—and several more after that to recover.
“Great,” he says. “I could use some company until the others arrive.”
Keeping you company isn’t in my job description. “Eh…” Oh, God. Help. Miles, I tell myself. I have miles on me now. I can deal with this.
“Do you dive?” he asks.
“No, I run the hotel.” I pull my hand free from a hold that has become all too long and insinuating. “My fiancé manages the dive center.” There. Eat that, you swine.
At this, Matthias’s eyebrow hitches up. “Great. I look forward to meeting him.”
I bet you do. I lead the way to the general guest area and fake-smile at him. “I suppose I don’t need to show you around, since you’ve been here so many times.”
“Yes, I have.” He leans closer, so close chills sprout down my spine as he whispers in my ear, “Send someone over with the good stuff, will you. Even better, bring it yourself and we can get to know each other better.” He salutes as the steps away.
What the hell? The good stuff? He just flew in from Amsterdam where you can get pot and whatnot on every street corner. He should have sorted himself out before coming here. Nobody on this island is growing their own weed…not under Jem’s watch.
I curse quietly as I watch him walk off.
What an asshole. I should have said something immediately once he suggested we hang out, but I was too stumped for words.
And I hate that Jem was right. I might have miles on me, but she has more—and earned them working on this small island for thirty years.
Just goes to show, size doesn’t always matter.
I don’t accompany Matthias to his room, as the porter already has his luggage and knows the drill. At St Chalamet there was always a person one level up who could deal with creepy guests, but here, I’m the one in charge. What do I do when someone comes on to me?
Back in my office, I distract myself by working on Deshni’s proposal, but by five o’clock I’m tired, I have period cramps in full force, and I only want to call it a day.
Some guests are going on a sunset cruise, though, and I need to see them off.
Other guests will stay and have drinks on the beach, and I need to be present for them until dinner.
Without a doubt, Matthias de Foch will be there, trying to rope in his fun for the night.
I could tell him it’s that time of the month.
He probably wouldn’t care. And then he’d probably come on to other staff.
I look over at Jem’s desk, which is empty.
No help is coming from that side. She’s gone home for the night, as it isn’t her role to look after guests after five in the afternoon.
My thumb slides over my engagement ring’s white-gold band, and for some reason, I find the courage to deal with the next couple of hours.
Ten minutes later I’m in conversation with a honeymooning couple from France who arrived two days ago, when I see Tristan coming up from the dive center.
He looks deep in thought, but as he sees me, his gaze softens and he smiles.
In a second, the whole fiasco from this morning flashes in my mind’s eye—as it has throughout the day at the most inappropriate of times, making me hot and bothered, as if the weather wasn’t enough. I blush so profusely, I drop my gaze.
I don’t usually see Tristan at this time of day. In fact, the only times we see each other are early mornings and late at night, and somehow, until this morning, we’d managed it in such a way that one of us was always asleep—or faking being asleep.
He reaches my side and takes my hand. “Mind if I steal Lexi for a second here?” he asks the guests, who raise their cocktails to him as a go-ahead.
Tristan tugs me out of earshot but doesn’t let go of my hand. “Are you okay?” he asks. He’s so close I can smell the post-dive shower on him.
“I’m good.” I don’t feel great, though, and if I had a choice, I’d go for the lie down I’ve needed since lunch. Somehow, with the heat, this period is hitting me harder.
He reaches up and brushes his thumb over my cheek. I’m not sure if it’s for show, but I lean into his touch. “Are you sure?” he asks. “You look tired.”
My body tingles with the delicious warmth of his skin, so welcome after every other warped thing today. I quietly hate myself for being weak, female, and practically obsessed with the part of Tristan Martinelli I can never have.
“I am, and—” My hand moves to my lower belly, right where the Advil I took earlier is making a sub-par difference.
Tristan’s fingers slide to the nape of my neck as he leans closer to murmur in my ear. “Babes? Do you need a warm water bottle and a rest?” He pulls his face just far enough away to peer into my eyes.
I blink. How does he know that’s exactly what I want? “The guests—”
“I’m here. All those eager night divers cancelled on me for tonight, so I’ll look after the guests. No problem.”
It’s not in his job description, but… I look over his shoulder as Matthias de Foch steps closer to us, just out of Tristan’s peripheral vision.
“So this is your fiancé?” Matthias asks. “The dive master?”
Tristan drops his hand from my cheek, and the comfort of his touch is gone. He turns towards Matthias. I knew Tristan was tall, but seeing him next to Matthias, measuring probably an inch taller, makes my heart skip a beat.
“Yes, hi. Tristan Martinelli.” Tristan has his hand out to shake, and Matthias returns the gesture, but his eyes are on me.
“You’re quite the couple, aren’t you?” Matthias says, and my pulse stutters as his eyes move over my body, this time lower—to the hem of my mini skirt, which suddenly seems indecently short. “Don’t mind if I do.”
“Excuse me?” Tristan shrugs off Matthias’s hand and takes mine in his again, this time with a protective squeeze.
Matthias still doesn’t meet Tristan’s gaze but keeps staring at me. “The decision usually lies with the lady, so… You talk it through, and…well, you know which room I’m in. We can have a fun time together before the rest of the wedding party arrives.”
With that, he gives Tristan’s biceps an encouraging pat and turns away. He walks straight up to the waiter with a tray of colorful cocktails, picks one, and continues to the boat where guests are being helped on board by Mike and another staff member.
Tristan’s hand is stiff and squeezes mine hard. “What the actual fuck was that?”
“A proposition, Tristan.” I close my eyes and cling to his hand. “It was a proposition for a threesome. His place. Tonight.”
Tristan shudders. “What the fuck? Does this really happen?”
“Evidently it does here, too.” I gulp, suddenly overwhelmed as I glance around the now emptying beach. The guests are almost all gone. “Now I know why they only employ couples. This. This is why.”
“I’ve never come across anything—”
“Of course you’ve never come across something like this. You don’t work in the hospitality industry.”
“Wait—what?” Tristan turns sharply toward me, his eyes peering into mine like they did minutes ago, though this time they’re stern, concerned…angry. “This has happened to you before?”
“Obviously. When I worked as a guest services agent, at least once every two weeks.”
His big hands cup my shoulders, and he’s overpowering, dangerous in his masculinity…
except this is Tristan. In this moment I realize I’ve never trusted a man like I trust him, and there’s a reason for that.
I trust him with my body, because he said no.
I trust him with my soul, because he is solid, sincere, and unwavering in the way he approaches life, friendships, people, and how he chooses to live.
As for trusting him with my heart… It can’t break twice, can it?
“Tristan?”
He searches my eyes, looking desperate. “Jesus Christ, Lexi. Are you okay? Did anybody ever—”
“I’m fine. And no, nothing’s ever happened, but I’ve got a couple of colorful stories to tell, if you have time.”
Tristan drops his forehead to mine. “Babes…” He hugs me, and this feels so warm, so right, full of such a promise of us, that I almost cave in to my desire to weep for everything lost in our years apart. Instead, I lean into him.
“I swear, I’ll kill him if he looks at you again,” he whispers, his words making my heart gloat.
Oh yes, this is Tristan, protector to the core. My hands sneak up his chest as I chuckle. “Please don’t off any of our guests. That’s the quickest way to get fired, and then we’re both screwed.”
There’s a smile on his lips as he runs them up the shell of my ear, setting my skin on fire. I sink deeper into his arms. “It will be worth it,” he murmurs.
He isn’t doing anything but moving his lips slowly across to my temple, but every lady bit of mine chants, Yes, please. More, please.
“You have to admit it’s kind of funny.”
“What?” he murmurs.
This could so easily devolve into something I’ve wanted since the day I walked in on him at Evan’s house.
Seems Tristan can keep his kidneys—we’ve gotten ourselves here, so no sacrifice necessary—but I still want his cock.
I giggle against his neck, where my lips are hovering, hesitant to make the first move.
“We’ve been invited to a threesome, but… we’re not even a twosome.”
“Hmm…” Tristan hums, laughter shallow in his throat, but he cuts it off. He lifts his head and looks at me, his brown eyes all-consuming. His gaze melts away my willpower. It looks as if he wants to kiss me, as if he’s going to kiss me, and I want him to kiss me so badly.
“I’m dealing with this dickhead.” Tristan presses the softest, warmest, and sweetest kiss possible to my forehead.
“You call it a day.” His palms run down my arms, and with a last squeeze of my hands, he turns me toward our cottage and gives me a pat on the ass to send me on my way. “See you later, babes.”