“Yeah, I’ve got a lot to do. My best friend's getting married this week and guess who's the maid of honor?”
“You don't sound so happy about that.”
“No, I am. Really I am.”
“You say as though you're planning a funeral and not a wedding.”
I lowered my phone to the bar and looked up at him. His eyes hadn't been off me since we met. It felt weird to have a guy be so attentive toward me.It wasn't something I was used to.
With Adam, I had to compete for his attention and every time I tried to talk to him, he was always on his phone, talking to his buddies, or checking out another girl. This guy, though, had eyes just for me. I didn't know whether to be flattered or weirded out.
“You never told me what your name is,” I said.
He hesitated for a second as though he was trying to make up a name on the spot and looked up to the ceiling.
“You can call me Phil.”
“Is that actually your name?”
“Sure it is.”
I wasn't convinced. There was something about him that was odd. The accent, the way he presented himself, his unwavering self-assurance and good looks, and now a deliberate consideration of giving away his name. Who was this guy?
“Whatever. Phil it is,” I said and raised my glass to him.
He clinked his beer against my glass and guzzled the last of his drink.
“Sure I can't get you another?”
“No, really. I’ve got a hundred things to do.”
“Well, they can wait,” he said.
There was something about the way he spoke that made me not want to argue with him, and in that moment, I thought, screw it. He's right. All urgent things had been seen to and Christy could wait a little while longer. What harm could one more drink do?
“Just a quick one,” I said. “I really have to track down the bar manager and find the-”
“Don’t worry, you will,” he said, and before I knew it, there was another scotch and ice in front of me.
How did that get here so fast?
“So,” he said, running a finger around the lip of his beer bottle. “I've got a nice place here on the island. “You should come check it out sometime.”
Yep, there it was. The play.
“I don't think so.”
He reeled back as though he'd been physically injured by my response.
“You don't think so?”
“I don't normally go back to strangers' houses.”
“But I'm not a stranger,” he insisted.
“Yes, you are.”
“Well, no but. I mean, yeah okay, we've just met, but we can get to know each other a bit better. We could have some fun.”
He raised a single eyebrow. I got the impression it was a look he performed on a regular basis and got the result he always wanted, but it wasn't going to work with me. Not today anyway.
Twenty-year-old carefree Lizzie without a single fear in the world, and her heart still intact might have said yes. Twenty-seven-year old Lizzie, on the other hand, with her heart in tatters and a mountain of wedding duties to be fulfilled while suffering from jet lag, could only say no.
“I'd rather not,” I told him. “I'm pretty busy.”
I watched his face fall. It was as though I could visibly see his ego crumble before my eyes, but he was trying his hardest to not look destroyed.
“I get the impression girls don't say no to you that often.”
He cocked his head to the side as though his thoughts were unbalancing him.
“Well, when you put it like that, I suppose they don't really.”
A smirk reached my lips, and I couldn't stop it spreading. There was something immeasurably satisfying about saying no to someone whose ego relied on you saying yes.
“So, is that a soft no or a perhaps you'll think about it or..”
“It's a hard no. I'm not interested in seeing anyone right now. Or ever again really. Besides, I have a hot date tonight with a caramel sundae.”
“Aw, come on, you can’t possibly mean you’re off men for good? Don’t let one hotheaded asshole ruin it for the rest of us.”
I ignored his comment and turned back to my phone in the hope that he would realize how disinterested I was. Not that I wasn’t attracted him; I'd have to be made of ice to not feel something for him, but the truth was that I was terrified. Terrified of tumbling into bed with him only to be treated like dirt in the morning. Scared that he would treat me like Adam did. Scared that all men were the same.
“So, how are you supposed to keep up the charade?” he asked.
“Hmmm?”
“The little act we pulled in front of your ex. He'll be expecting to see me around.”
Shit, he's right. If Adam starts seeing me alone he'll think I'm single again.
Not to mention the look on Adam's face when he saw Phil was priceless. He was obviously jealous of his physique and hated the sight of his arm around me. It wouldn't hurt to make him feel that way again, would it?
“I can see you churning it over in your mind,” said Phil. “You like making him jealous.”
“What girl wouldn't? He made me feel like shit for months.”
“So, it's settled? I'll be your date for the week?”
Maybe the idea wasn't so stupid after all.
“I'm not sure,” I mused out loud. “What if you're a serial killer?”
“Hey, I heard Ted Bundy was pretty charming when he wanted to be.”
“Not funny, Phil. Not funny at all.”
“Okay, sorry. Look, just think about it, okay? It could be fun. Besides, do you really wanna go to your best friend's wedding alone?”
“I won't be alone. I'll be with her.”
“And her husband, and all her family. You'll be a total third wheel.”
“Thanks, you really know how to make me feel special.”The guy had a weird knack of making me realize what I'd been shoving to the back of my mind. I really did want a date for Christy's wedding, even if it was just to look like I was having the time of my life with a hot guy in front of Adam..
“What do you want?” I asked. “Money or something? You want me to pay you to pretend to be my boyfriend?”
He recoiled back in his seat, offended.
“You think I want money?”
“Well, isn't that what most people want?”
“I can’t speak for most people, but I can speak for myself. I don’t want your money.”
His answer took me a back. It was as though money was a dirty word to him.
“Well, you can't convince me you just want my company for the week.”
“Why not?”
“Because...”
Because what kind of guy could have such innocent intentions? Clearly he wanted something from me.
“So, it's sex, then. Is that what you want?”
“No,” he said, but his eyes said yes. “Okay, maybe.”
“Well, at least you're almost honest. That's more than I can say about most.”
"Think about it this way," he said, waving a hand over his body. "You get this for the entire week to do whatever you want with."
He winked and laughed, and I couldn't help but join in. I wanted to ignore him, I really did, but it was impossible. Especially when he looked so good.
Leaning over, he placed a hand gently on my knee and said, "Think about it. We could have so much fun together."
"I guess... "
I found myself lost for words. Knocking back as much of my drink as I could in one gulp, I tried to dissipate the nerves that were running rampant around my stomach. Staring at his hand, I felt the heat of it against me, saw how strong his fingers were. His tendons were pulled taught to emphasize his strength, and I couldn't help but think about where else his hands could go. Further up my thigh, below my dress...
"Okay," I relented. "But it's strictly a fake date for the wedding. I'm not interested in getting involved with anyone. The last thing I want is a relationship."
<
br /> "Woah, woah," he said, raising his hands. "Who said anything about a relationship? This is strictly a sham just to make your ex jealous and maybe give you a reason to let your hair down a little. You know, have a little fun."
"You drive a hard bargain."
He laughed and I found myself warming to him even more, even though the rational side of my brain was telling me to stay away.
"It's a deal," I said. "But at the end of the week we go our separate ways and that's the end of it."
"If you think you can let me go that easily,” he teased.
I rolled my eyes. “Shake on it?"
"How about we kiss on it?" he suggested.
"No way."
"Not even a quick peck?"
"Absolutely not."
"Okay, fine," he said. "How about we hug on it?"
"You’re like a dog with a bone, you know?"
I slid off my stool and into his arms. They felt better than I wished they would, and I found myself reluctant to pull away. For a quick second, I closed my eyes and felt his muscles against mine, felt the strength of his biceps holding me close to him..
His shoulders were broad and his muscles were rock solid and for a second, I licked my lips and imagined dragging my nails down over them.
Woah, calm down, girl, I told myself. Don't get drawn in too close. He'll charm his way between your legs then kick you to the curb.
But as I opened my eyes and looked into his face, he smiled, and I melted even further into his arms.
It's too late, I realized. I'm already under his spell.
Philip
Richard, the bar manager, was standing in front of me looking like a school boy sent to the principal's office.
"Please forgive me, Your Highness. I have only just been told about your presence here in the Octavius Islands. When I saw you down at the beach I thought you were just-"
"A beach bum?"
"Well, no but-"
"It's okay. I'm glad you didn't recognize me. It was kinda the point of my whole look. I'm out here to get away from everyone, not to draw attention to myself."
He nodded and gave me a weak but understanding smile, still managing to look just as creepy as before. There was something I disliked about him, something that grated my nerves as soon as I saw his face. But I couldn't quite identify quite what was bothering me.
"Well, I am dreadfully sorry about not realizing who you were sooner. Would it be possible that Your Highness would like to take the royal penthouse suite of the hotel? It is empty after all."
"No, thank you," I said. "I'm staying in my own villa nearer the beach and-"
I stopped myself. Occupying the suite on the top floor of the Royal Octavius Hotel? That would mean being closer to Lizzie!
"Actually, I think I will take you up on your offer. I mean, not that I need you to offer me the suite. It does belong to my family, after all."
"Yes, obviously," choked Richard. "I'm very well aware of that. If you'd be so kind as to occupy the royal penthouse suite, I would see to it myself you got the very best treatment the hotel has to offer."
I gave him a wry smile. I didn't give a shit about first class treatment or being given a fancy penthouse. I cared about being closer to Lizzie.
Within the hour, I was standing in the center of the bedroom in the royal penthouse suit while Stephen briefed the rest of the security team on our relocation.
"You really don't have to fuss so much," I told him as I wound a tie around my neck. "The paparazzi won't get us all the way up here, not unless they fly a helicopter right up to the balcony."
"I've seen weirder things happen," replied Stephen.
I shrugged and returned to looking at my reflection. If I was being honest, I'd say I was looking like one dapper motherfucker, the slickest of the slick. I looked so fucking good that if I stood beside Leonardo DiCaprio, he'd look average.
Checking over my appearance one last time, I thought about all the ways I was going to wow Lizzie. She'd been on my mind since I met her, like she'd somehow infected my brain. Those eyes of hers, that creamy complexion, that promise of a perfect body below her modest dress mixed with her bossy attitude drove me wild. But that wasn't all. She was dazzlingly beautiful and even gave old Bibi a run for her money, but the thing that stood out the most about her was that she didn't seem to give a shit.
It was like she had never looked in the mirror before and truly seen what stared back at her. The moment she did she would realize what power she truly held, and God help us mere mortals after that.
Yet that wasn't the only reason I couldn't get her out my mind. As well as having the full package -- the looks, the body, the personality, the independence -- she gave me something no girl had ever given me in my life before. She was giving me a chase.
She'd said no. A magical two letter word that had hit me like a bombshell.
With other girls, I could have had them in bed and sent them packing within the hour, but Lizzie, I had to fight to just allow myself the privilege to buy her a drink. Most girls wanted nothing more than for you to buy them drink after drink all night long and treat them like they were made of gold. But Lizzie? She was a tough nut to crack, but I reckoned once I got inside that hard exterior she'd be the sweetest.
I had to impress her tonight. Really impress her. That's why as soon as I entered the top floor penthouse, I threw off the grubby board shorts, disappeared into the shower for an hour with a razor, and emerged looking like the true Adonis she needed to see me as.
“Stephen? What do you think?” I asked, turning to the team.
“You look dashing, Your Highness.”
“If you don't mine me saying, I think so too.”
* * *
She had told me her room number, although I could tell there was a deep hesitance in her eyes when she did so. Now, I just had to hope she hadn't given me a fake one.
“Room, two-three-seven. Two-three-seven. Two-three-seven.”
I repeated it over and over again like a mantra as I walked down the hall. There was a weird feeling in my stomach, and the further I walked, the more I felt uneasy.
For a minute, I thought I had eaten something bad and contracted food poisoning. Then I realized it wasn't something physical. It was a bad case of the nerves; something I had never had with a girl before.
Why the hell am I nervous, I thought. She's just a girl. Just a regular human being. So why do I feel like this?
But I knew why. I had to do something I'd never had to do before; impress a girl with something other than my looks and status. I was going to have to use my personality for once. My actual words and behavior. Could I do it?
As I lingered outside her door, I found that I had forgotten every word that had ever entered my head. As I knocked, I felt as though my heart was in my mouth. From the other side, I could hear her fumbling with the lock. The door opened to reveal her inch by inch, time slowing to a halt.
“Phil?”
“Hey Lizzie.”
“Woah, I almost didn't recognize you there!”
She had slipped into one of the complimentary hotel dressing gowns, but unlike everyone else, she didn't look like a slob. Instead, she looked more like a model getting ready to step onto the catwalk. Her dewy skin was luminescent in the dim light of the sunset, her eyes bare but sparkling.
“I know it's getting a bit late, but I was wondering if you'd like to join me for dinner?”
“I just ordered room service,” she said.
“Oh, it's just that I've got a yacht ready so...”
Standing there feeling like an idiot, I hoped the more I stared at her, the more likely she was to say yes.
“A yacht?” she asked. “Is it yours?”
“It's the hotel's.”
“How did you manage that?”
What was I to say? If I told her I not only owned the hotel she was staying in, all the yachts in its vicinity, and the very island itself, she would most likely think I was a master bullshitter. And the
re was just no way I could tell her the real reason.
“One of the managers here owed me a favor.”
“Oh.”
Something was ticking over in her mind like she was on the cusp of changing her mind.
“So, you'll come?”
She thought for a second; looking me up and down as though she was trying to decide if I was worth it or not.
“I'll come,” she said. “But I can't get home late. Christy needs me to go over the last-minute details tonight.”
“She sounds like a harsh task master.”
“She is,” she sighed and rubbed at her temple. “She really is.”
* * *
“Woah!” You weren't joking when you said a yacht, but this more like a freaking cruise ship.”
“It's nice, isn't it?”
“It's massive!”
I helped her onto the deck, taking advantage of being able to hold her hand, even if it was just for a moment. At the bow, a table was waiting for us. She eyed the three bottles of vintage Dom Perignon I'd picked out especially for her and her eyes nearly popped out her head.
On a silver platter, lay three lobsters, freshly caught that evening from the nearby harbor. The smell drifted over to us and I could see her nose twitch.
“Better than room service?” I asked as I pulled out her chair.
“We'll see,” she said, although she couldn't hide how impressed she was.
I gave a thumbs up to the captain and a moment later, we were making our way out to sea.
“You have a lot of people on the yacht with you,” she said, looking over the guys. “Are they your friends?”
I looked over to my security team. Stephen was staring at us intently and it wasn't the most appetizing sight. Waving a hand at him, I shooed him away until he disappeared around the corner.
“They're staff,” I said. “Just ignore them. Drink?”
“Please.”
The shoreline began to shrink away until all we could see were its lights twinkling like a strand of jewels dropped onto the horizon. Like honey, the sun dripped into the turquoise sea.
Royally Damaged Page 5
