Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
VICKY
My husband has unleashed a beast I wasn’t even aware lurked beneath the surface, waiting in the shadows for the right person to come along and release it from its cage.
I’m insatiable.
Since arriving in Croatia yesterday, we’ve had sex five times, breaking only to eat, shower, take a breath of air, then go all over again. And still I woke this morning to a pulsing clit and an unquenchable need to have him again. All it took was for me to reach for him, and he gave me what I craved.
I’m sore, but in a good way. Already, my body explodes for him with little stimulation. All thoughts of suffering from some kind of biological defect have vanished. Nicholas proved over and over, giving me at least fifteen orgasms, that there’s nothing wrong with me. All I needed was… well, him.
Except, he wasn’t ever supposed to be mine.
I’d give anything to have my sister back, yet if she was here, she’d be married to Nicholas now, and I’d only ever be able to admire him from afar. A fresh onslaught of guilt swamps me, crushing me from the inside. Will it ease over time, or will I always have this terrible feeling that I’ve stolen something which never belonged to me?
After showering, I choose a summery yellow, knee-length dress and stuff my feet into comfortable white trainers. Nicholas mentioned something about exploring the old town this morning, then if the weather conditions are right, we’re to go sailing after lunch. At the last minute, I grab a white cardigan in case it’s chilly on the water.
The smell of fresh pastries and bacon leads me to the dining room. This house is enormous by most standards, but it’s dwarfed when compared to Oakleigh. I prefer it, though, and I’m kind of sad this isn’t where we’ll make our home. Then again, my friends are in England, and Imogen, too. I’d miss them terribly if we lived here.
Get out of your head, Vicky. No one has mentioned living here.
Nicholas puts down his phone the second I enter, and the smile he gives me oozes sex, his dark eyes roaming over my simple outfit like I’m wearing Chanel and walking the red carpet. He sure has a way of making me feel as though I’m the center of his world.
Did he look at Beth that way? Did she feel the same as I do right now? Oddly enough, we never spoke about her marriage to Nicholas. I was too filled with anger and, yes, jealousy, to ask her, and she never volunteered, nor did she complain about her fate. That wasn’t Beth’s style. She was easy to be around, kind, and quietly spoken. Not for the first time, I wonder whether our stark differences contributed toward my parents favoring her over me. Was I too difficult for them? Too outspoken? Too disobedient?
“You look lovely.”
Lovely can sometimes sound like a copout word, not quite as bad as “nice” but along the same lines. Yet when Nicholas says it, it’s as though he’s bestowing the greatest compliment on me.
“I hope this is okay for where we’re going.” I tug on the three-quarter sleeves, smiling at the staff member who pulls out a chair for me.
Nicholas waits for him to leave, then leans forward, his elbows propped on the cherrywood dining table. “Well, I’d prefer you naked, but I don’t think walking around in the buff is legal in Croatia.” He grins. “When we’re on the yacht, however…” He leaves the rest of the sentence to my imagination, but it doesn’t take much creativity to figure out what he means.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” he says, gesturing to several plates loaded with fruit, pastries, bacon, eggs, and toast. “But make sure you eat plenty. I don’t want you fainting on me.”
“Not much chance of that.” I lean forward, piling my plate high with hot food, and grab an almond croissant, too. “I’m a big eater.”
His eyes travel south. “Me, too.”
I don’t think it’s food he’s talking about, and my stomach flips over several times. “I thought you’d be full after last night.”
His tongue darts out to dampen his lips, and the urge to forget breakfast and gorge myself on him instead engulfs me.
See? Insatiable.
“Oh, I have a large appetite that’s rarely sated.”
Looks as though I’m not the only one. Maybe we’re the perfect match after all, even if we weren’t fated to be together. And maybe, just maybe, that compatibility might be enough for him to fall in love with me one day.
I can wait. It’s not as if either of us are going anywhere.
While we eat, I take the opportunity to ask Nicholas a little about Croatia and his love of sailing. He comes alive as he talks, and I can’t help but gawk at how animated he is. I’ve never seen this side to him, which only makes me fall that little bit deeper. Every instinct screams at me not to let myself fall too deep, but I’m simply a passenger on this journey. Wherever it takes me is beyond my control.
At nine-thirty, we leave the house and make our way to the old town a short half-mile stroll away. Barron and Andrew tail us, their looming presence an unfortunate necessity. The De Vils are not only stinking rich, but their position in The Consortium makes them almost infamous, and with infamy comes danger.
Beth is proof of that. She wasn’t even a De Vil, yet her association was enough for her to be a target.
Grief spreads through my chest, vying with guilt for the top spot. Here I am in this stunning place, my hand enclosed in Nicholas’s, enjoying all the wonders that life has to offer, and my sister is in the ground. I should ask Nicholas if he’s any closer to finding out who killed her, but (and, God, please forgive me) for once, I want something that’s just for me. We’re only here for a few days. Is it selfish of me to want to enjoy my honeymoon before reality hacks its way through my happiness?
I fear the answer is yes, yet I remain silent.
We explore the narrow streets and stunning architecture of this old medieval town, bursting with vibrant life, and visit Dubrovnik Cathedral and the Dominican monastery. When my legs start to ache, we stop off at a local café for lunch, devouring plates of peka— traditional Croatian dish of meat, potatoes, and vegetables cooked on an open fire. With our bellies full and my heart fit to bursting, we make our way to the marina, where Nicholas moors his sailboat all year round.
Pride fills his voice when he points her out on our approach. “There she is. Seventy-five feet of pure bliss.”
“She’s gorgeous.” My gaze drifts along the side and up near to the front. The bow? I frown as I read the boat’s name.
“ The Devil’s Torment ?” I peer up at Nicholas, shielding my eyes from the sun. “From the man who leads a charmed life?”
His eyes darken before his gaze locks on the horizon, an unreadable expression drifting over his face. “We all have our demons, Victoria.”
I inwardly curse my insensitivity. Nicholas hasn’t led a charmed life at all. He’s suffered, lost people he loves, not least his mother and his sister within two weeks of one another. It might be almost twenty years since Annabel De Vil was raped and murdered, and his mother chose to end her suffering rather than to live with the grief, but I doubt the passage of time lessens the pain of a loss so great. I’m damn sure I’ll still desperately miss Beth twenty years from now.
“I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me.”
He shakes his head as though to dispel painful memories crowding his mind. “Come on.” Taking my hand, he leads me down the weathered walkway and up the metal gangplank to board the boat. Barron and Andrew stand at the bottom, making no move to follow us.
“They’re not coming?” I cock my head toward the two men who are looking everywhere but at us.
“No. They’re not happy about it, but I want to be alone with you.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
He grins, all signs of his earlier distress absent. “Only for you.” He slings an arm over my shoulder and kisses my hair.
I visibly swoon. All my dreams are coming true, and I can’t believe this is my life. My new husband might not believe in love, but the man has romance down to a fine art.
And for now, that’s enough. Whether it will always be enough remains to be seen.
He shows me around the boat, but despite my best efforts to remember everything, much of it goes right over my head. I think I have port and stern locked down, and I know what the boom is and to avoid it when it swings across the boat unless I want to take an unplanned dip in the Adriatic, but that’s about it.
“I’m not sure how useful I’m going to be as first mate.”
“You’ll do fine. I’ve sailed alone many times. Sit back and relax. If I need you to help out, I’ll make sure I’m clear on what you have to do.”
He takes the wheel, and it isn’t long before we leave the dock behind and sail into open waters. Fortunately, I seem to have built-in sea legs, although the sea is calm today. If it was rough, it might be a different story. As much as Nicholas jokingly offered to hold my hair while I puked, vomiting in front of him hasn’t made my bingo card for at least the first year of marriage.
Unless you’re already pregnant. There wasn’t any talk of using contraception during last night’s marathon sex session, which means that Nicholas fully expects us to have children. I’d love kids, too, but I hope it doesn’t happen too fast. I want to get to know Nicholas and launch my business before becoming a mother. When I get home, I might talk to a doctor about going on the pill just to give me a bit more control.
I haven’t told Nicholas about Montague Interiors yet, and I’ve no idea how he’ll take the idea of me working. Not that it matters. He’ll have to suck it up. After graduating college, it took me a while to narrow down what I wanted to do with my design degree. I could’ve gone in many different directions, but interior design was the thing that excited me most. Once we return to England, I’m going to reach out to the contact Eloise’s dad gave me and get my business off the ground.
We sail along the coast for about an hour. The scenery is breathtaking, and I snap a ton of pictures on my phone, sending a number of them to the group chat with my friends. Jealous is the overwhelming response, and as I watch Nicholas expertly sail this gigantic boat, the breeze lifting his hair, his muscles flexing as he shifts the boom, I think they have a fair point. If the roles were reversed, I’d be jealous, too.
At a rocky outcrop, Nicholas drops anchor, and the boat comes to a stop. “Thought we’d maybe go for a swim.” He frowns, his head tilted to one side. “You can swim, can’t you?”
It’s one more reminder that we don’t really know anything about one another, but there’s time. We have the rest of our lives to discover our favorite color, how we like our eggs (runny, please), and which movies make us cry. Although I can’t see Nicholas shedding a single tear even at Me Before You , which both Beth and I cried buckets at.
“I can swim, but I didn’t bring a swimsuit with me.” If he’d told me what he had planned, I’d have packed one.
A crooked grin lifts his lips on one side. “Neither did I.” In one smooth movement, he pulls his T-shirt over his head and tosses it at me. His jeans and underwear follow, and he stands there, a man completely comfortable with being naked. Throwing me a wink, he dives off the side of the boat into the sparkling water of the Adriatic Sea.
When he comes up for air, he crooks a finger. “Strip, Mrs. De Vil, and get in here. The water’s gorgeous.”
A rush of pleasure gallops through my veins. I’ve never skinny dipped, but there’s a first time for everything.
Grabbing my dress by the hem, I yank it over my head and toss it on the bench that runs around the rear of the boat. I kick off my trainers and discard my underwear. Instead of diving in, I perch on the rim of the boat and jump off, legs first. Thankfully, the water is warmer than I expected. Strong forearms encase me from behind, one arm banding across my stomach, the other cupping my breast. He kisses my shoulder, and his half erect dick nestles between my bum cheeks.
“I want you again.” He sounds wondrous, as though he can’t quite believe his admission. “I want you all the time. Are you a witch, wife?”
That same rush of power I felt when I had his dick in my mouth engulfs me. This is how I win. With sex. I’m not stupid. I’m aware that both men and women can enjoy vigorous sex without love being involved, but it could lead to something more.
He nuzzles my neck, and a second later, I’m facing him. He kisses me like he’s been handed a death sentence, and this is his dying wish. Joy explodes in my chest. In my wildest dreams, I never thought this would happen. And to think when my parents first told me about my arranged marriage, I’d fought them on it. Though at the time, grief for Beth and blaming Nicholas for what happened to her had consumed me.
I’m still deep in mourning and drowning in guilt, but it doesn’t stop me from stealing this slice of happiness. I deserve it. I do.
He breaks off the kiss and splashes me. It’s such a teasing thing to do, and not at all like the Nicholas I thought I knew. Turns out I didn’t know him at all.
“See that cove?” He points to a small stretch of sandy beach hidden by rocks that jut out from the hillside above. “Think you can swim that far?”
“I’m sure I can.”
“Good girl. Let’s go.” He glides through the water, his front crawl far more impressive than my breaststroke. It takes me about ten minutes to make it to the shoreline, and I’m breathless by the time I emerge from the sea and dig my toes into the sand.
“Think I need to work harder at the gym.” I press a hand to my stomach and suck in a full lungful of air.
“Sex is the best exercise.” He snags me around the waist and tugs me flush to his body. “Fuck, what are you doing to me?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer. His tongue pushes past my lips, and his hands are everywhere at once. He only has two, but damn, he uses them well. There isn’t an inch of my body that escapes his attention as he lowers me to the sand.
“What if we’re seen?”
He nibbles my earlobe, and my core clenches. “We won’t be.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I made sure of it.”
I’m not sure what that means, but I’m too needy for him to question it. As he pushes inside me and his piercing drags along my inner walls, my concerns scatter like ashes in the wind. If anyone cares enough to watch us then they’re in for a hell of a show.
* * *
My head rests in Nicholas’s lap, and the autumn sun dries the salt and sand on our skin. His fingers thread through my hair, and the tenderness of it brings a rush of tears to my eyes. I’m aware Nicholas has a brutal side—his family’s reputation is well known in our circles—but since our fates were sealed, he’s shown me nothing but understanding and affection. That’s a start, right? After what I said at Beth’s funeral, he could have made my life a living hell, and there was a part of me that expected him to. Instead, he’s shown me a lighthearted, caring, compassionate side of him I wouldn’t have known existed before we married.
My heart bursts with adoration for this man, but there’s no way I can tell him that the infatuation I once felt is fast becoming something more. Something far deeper and scarier. Of course, I’d love it if one day he declared his undying love for me, for him to admit he made a mistake and should have chosen me all along, but I can’t control what he says, does, or feels. All I can do is be true to myself and hope it’s enough.
“I’ve drawn a blank on every avenue in searching for Elizabeth’s murderer.”
I stiffen. Here we are, lying naked on golden sand, the sun warming our skin, and he’s thinking about my sister. Beth has crossed my thoughts more than once, and I was the one who raised the subject of her yesterday, but for Nicholas to instigate the conversation right after we had sex feels like a kick in the teeth. It’s yet another reminder that it should be Beth lying on this beach with him. Her hair he’s absentmindedly threading through his fingers. Her body he’s kissing, touching, and fucking.
I sit up and bring my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. “I was going to ask, but…” I trail off. The truth is, I didn’t want to ask. Not until we were back in England with this dream trip in the rearview mirror. I didn’t want to keep reminding myself that I shouldn’t be here. That Nicholas wasn’t meant to be mine.
“I’m sorry. I’m not giving up. I’ll never give up until I find out who killed her and make them pay.”
His apology, coming as it does while his cum is still drying on the inside of my thighs, hurts. It fucking hurts, but I don’t want to let him see how much his words have cut me.
Gathering myself, I school my expression, bury the pain inside, and turn my attention to him. “It’s not your fault.”
“It is. I told you I’d find those responsible.” He drags a hand over his face. “No one evades me. No one.”
The bleakness and near defeat in his expression draws my hand to his arm in comfort. “I know you’ll do right by her. I trust you.”
“I fucking will,” he growls. “I swear to you that I’ll never stop searching.”
Although finding Beth’s murderer is something I’ll never give up on either, I internally wince. It doesn’t matter how much time passes; the fact remains that Nicholas was Beth’s before he was mine, and that means I can never be his first choice.
It’s a depressing thought.
“Do you mind if we go back.” My voice sounds overly bright, but he doesn’t appear to notice. “I’m feeling a bit tired. Must be all the sun.”
“Or the sex.” His smile puts a crack in my heart.
“Yeah, that, too.”
By the time we sail back to port, the sun is setting, painting the sky in hues that remind me of a blood orange. When Nicholas suggests going out for dinner, I feign a headache. He kisses my forehead, perfectly appropriate, perfectly controlled. A kiss for his wife. Just not the wife he originally chose.
As I trudge up the stairs to bed, one word reverberates through my mind: Imposter.