by Dee Garcia
“And after the pool? It’ll be dark soon. Have any ideas?” I asked, stuffing down that keen sense of anxiety dripping through my veins.
“A shower? Maybe dinner,” she offered, inching closer.
“We can hit some slots afterwards too,” I suggested, earning me a pleasantly surprised quirk of her brows.
“Oooh, in the gambling mood, are we? I’m down with that.” She beamed a smile, inching closer a smidge more.
“If you let me at the poker table, I bet I can win some of our money back,” I added, and her head flew back, lips puckered dubiously.
“What? You, a poker player? I don’t believe it.”
“Well, believe it, Angel. Mama taught me good.”
I stilled as soon as the words left my mouth, or word, I should say. Eden did too, now watching me wearily. A heavy, uncomfortable silence briskly suffocated the room.
Mama.
“Fuck…” I muttered, tossing my head back in ire, in resentment too.
Here we go again.
“Have you talked to her?” Eden asked softly after a beat and I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut.
“No, I’ve been too angry with her to call.”
“Don’t be mad at her, babe. She’s got every right to be upset.”
“I realize that to some extent, but why can’t she look at all this from my point of view?” I barked my query in indignation.
“Because you can’t look at it from hers,” Eden replied, her point far more valid than I cared for. “She’s your mom, Xander. I’ve taken you from her twice. You’re keeping things from her too. Instincts are going to tell her I’m bad news, which obviously she’s not too far off about.”
“Don’t start…” I warned, and she held a hand up to nip my spiel in the bud.
“I’m not, I’m just saying. Gut feelings never steer you wrong and hers are clearly no different. You not calling her is probably only making it worse. Don’t you…” She trailed off, wringing her fingers together.
“Don’t I what?”
“Don’t you worry that something could…”
“That something could happen to her?” I questioned, and she nodded, working down an uneasy swallow.
“I do, but at this point, it’s out of my control. It’s out of anyone’s control. Cancer will take her when it wants to, whether we’re on good terms or not. I know the lack of communication is hurting her, hell, it’s hurting me too, but I just can’t bring myself to call her right now. Maybe after the holidays.”
“Personally, I think you should do it before,” Eden explained, taking hold of my hands. “But I’m not going to push you. You’ll call her when you’re ready and if you want me to sit with you when you do it, you know I’ll be right there holding your hand.” She laced our fingers together, blue orbs downcast between us. “And if you prefer I sit that conversation out, I get that too.”
Not happening. No secrets, remember, Angel?
“Look at me,” I demanded, cocking my head to the side when her dejected eyes met mine. “I love you, and when I finally call her, I want you right here, beside me. I’m gonna need you. You’re my cure-all, Eden, my sole source of comfort, my best friend. I can’t do it without you.”
All traces of anxiety fell away, her expression brightening, a slow smile stretching her lips. She pressed herself flush against me, hands cupping my face. Those eyes told me everything.
“I love you more,” she whispered back, “so much more. You have no idea.”
“Trust me,” I chuckled. “I’m pretty sure I do.”
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Xander. The very best.”
“Likewise, Angel, fucking likewise,” I murmured.
And then I kissed the absolute shit out of her, desperate to permanently snuff out the impending sense of doom I couldn’t seem to shake, no matter what we did or how far we ran.
Three piña coladas, a dip in the pool, a few rounds on the slides, and a steamy shower for two later, Xander and I were getting ready to head back downstairs for dinner. I’d thought it was a bit ridiculous on my part to buy this little black strapless dress back when we were in Puerto Rico, but now, as I smoothed the soft fabric down my curves and checked out my reflection in the mirror, I was glad I’d spent the extra cash.
LBD’s are a staple in any woman’s closet—I literally had about five different styles at home—mostly because they worked with almost any setting or occasion. You could dress them up with classy accessories and an elegant up-do, or wear them more casual with a jean jacket and a cute pair of sandals. Tonight was one of those dressier nights and a quick scan of my minimal inventory proved that was going to be a bit of a problem. I didn’t have much to dress it up with except a long string of pearls I’d found on one of our shopping trips in the D.R. Everything else was either way too simple or too casual.
Sometimes less is more, I reminded myself as I knotted the pearl necklace at my bust-line and slipped the matching stud earrings in place. Easing back, I examined myself a second time. Not exactly the look I was going for, but it’d have to do. Plus, the dress looked damn good on me and the bouncy curls in my hair, along with the razor-sharp winged liner I’d spent twenty minutes working on, gave me a pin-up look I knew Xander would enjoy, especially my fire engine red lips. Yup, very pin-up.
After two quick spritzes of my Burberry Brit Rhythm—one of my faves—I was out the door of the en suite, the angry rumbling of my stomach reminding me we hadn’t eaten in hours. I was starving. Quickly tucking a few necessities into my black clutch, I slipped into my black pumps and scurried out to the main room, stopping dead in my tracks at the sight that greeted me. Xander was standing in front of the windows, hands in his pockets as he observed the night's scenery below. He was all broad back and bulging shoulders in his blacked-out ensemble; black dress shirt, black slacks, black dress shoes.
Excuse me while I wipe the drool from the corners of my mouth…
Uh…
Um…
…
All right, I think we’re good now.
Anyway, after the initial shock passed and my legs finally carried me forward, I couldn’t stop myself from giggling as I closed the distance between us. Xander turned at the sound of my approaching form and quirked a brow at my expression.
“What’s funny?”
“We’re matching,” I pointed out.
His brow arched a wee bit more. “And that’s funny how?”
“I just wasn’t expecting it. Caught me off guard, that’s all.” I shrugged.
“No more alcohol for you, Miss Scarsi,” he said matter-of-factly, motioning for me to lead the way out of our suite with a hand at the small of my back.
“What does alcohol have to do with it?”
“You’re giggly, a clear result of the three gargantuan piña coladas you downed by the pool.”
“That was hours ago,” I squeaked, pushing open our door into the empty hallway. Was he serious right now?
“On the contrary, you had your last one just under an hour ago.”
“And?” I pressed because what the hell? I was a grown ass woman! If I wanted a drink, I was sure as hell going to have one.
“And I’d like you upright for the rest of the evening,” he deadpanned, guiding me to the elevators not too far away.
I rolled my eyes so hard I’m surprised they didn’t burst from their sockets. “You act like I’m drunk.”
“Not now you’re not, no, but if you have any more, you will be without question.”
Oh, please.
Now I was really getting annoyed.
At the elevator banks, Xander smashed the down arrow. Not thirty seconds later, the telltale chime dinged and the doors flew open, allowing us entry into the lush cart. It was empty too. Thankfully. Ushering me in first, he swiftly hit the L on the illuminated panel and took his place beside me, our gazes connecting in the shiny, reflective metal of the doors as the lift dropped.
“Did you not catch
the memo that night in El Conuco?” I asked, resuming our conversation. “I’m not a lightweight.”
Xander chuckled softly, undoing the top two buttons of his shirt. Apparently, it was hot in here. I mean, yes, he was hotter than Hades—especially in all black with that dark hair and those dark eyes—but he was doing it on purpose. Giving me a small peek of his chest. A guaranteed distraction.
Ass.
“I know you like to think that, Angel, but I hate to break it to you… You are indeed a lightweight. El Conuco is a prime example,” he cooed, pulling me into his side.
His clean, woodsy, all-fucking-Xander-Royce scent hit me immediately and God, did he smell good. I had to turn away and inhale a deep breath of fresh air to clear my head.
“Am not,” I gritted out.
“Yes, you are.”
“And how did you come to that conclusion?”
Brown eyes peered down at me, a devious smirk pulling his lips. “By silent observation, that’s how.”
“Your observations are off, Mr. Royce.”
“Only to you they would be, seeing as you’re in denial.”
“Whatever,” I muttered, watching the numbers continue to drop on the display panel. “I’m still having a glass of wine.”
“One glass,” he stressed.
“Yes, Dad, okay.” I sighed exaggeratedly.
I was just about to send my eyes in another annoyed spin too, when a strong hand gripped my jaw, forcing my gaze on a stern stare.
“Don’t ‘Dad’ me, Eden. I’m just looking out for you. I don’t think you’re wanting a hangover tomorrow, am I right?”
No, I don’t, I thought to myself, but I didn’t answer aloud. I couldn’t, muted not only by the strength of his grip but at his show of control.
I could get used to this…
Okay, now it was hot here. It's hot, right? I sure felt that way, melting beneath his touch like liquid putty.
“Exactly,” he purred at my silence, eyes gleaming in victory. “Now stop sassing me and let’s have some fun, shall we?”
The chime dinged, alerting us of our arrival at the lobby as the metal doors slid open. Still Xander didn’t release me, regardless of the few people now staring at us as they waited to board the cart. He didn’t care—he was waiting too, waiting for me to drop the attitude from our mild debate, for me to freely gift him the last word. Brown eyes keen, the seconds ticked by, people now filtering in around us. I nodded silently in response, if only to get us out of the elevator, but it was really more of me actually agreeing, submitting. Xander grinned in appeasement, knowing full well how out of character this was for me. Then, without another word, we were off, leaving befuddled, curious stares in our wake as we headed off to The Point.
Funny story; I ended up having more than the one allotted glass of wine, courtesy of those flirty eyes Xander had referred to when we first checked in. By the time we paid for our dinner and made the trek along the beach back to the casino, I was feeling wonderful. Not quite drunk shenanigans wonderful but I was definitely a little warm, and it had nothing to do with the weather.
Wasn’t just me, though. Xander might’ve had one too many Coronas too. Okay, not might’ve—he did.
Those usually alert chocolatey pools were lazy and a tad glassy, his smile impossibly more sleek and sexier. And yet somehow, he still had the perfect poker face. I know I sure as hell wouldn’t be able to do it. My ass would be much too giggly, and I’d likely end up giving away my cards. Plus, I’m shit at poker so attempting to play in this state would be a comical disaster. But Xander, he evidently knew exactly what he was doing, as he’d stated back in our room.
He was currently sitting through what was almost the end of three rounds with the same five players. The winner from the previous two was apparently out to make some money tonight and had decided to try his luck one more time, meaning the winnings at stake were quite high. If Xander won this round, I can assure you we would not be sticking around afterwards. Greedy, maybe, but we’re not stupid.
The pot continued to rise, a mountain of chips now stacked in tiers at the middle of the table. One by one, the other players began folding and I was growing anxious. Xander had put in and matched quite a bit through each round, and while we still had enough money from my savings to get us by, I hated to think we’d carelessly gambled away a chunk of it in an attempt to win more. I had faith in Xander though. If he didn’t think he could win, we surely wouldn’t be sitting here otherwise. Right?
We were coming up on the hour mark and only three players remained, Xander included. The game was so nail-bitingly intense, a rather large audience had gathered around the table. None were willing to fold and seemed confident in their hands, prompting the dealer to call the showdown. An older gentleman on Xander’s left was first to reveal his cards, setting down three of a kind. Not the best hand but not the worst either. The original winner barked out a laugh and was quick to throw his cards down, revealing a full house. He glanced at the other gentleman victoriously and rubbed his hands together as the spectators around us cheered and commented, most of them whispering about Xander.
I gulped.
This was it.
I almost didn’t want to look, especially when he sucked in a load of air through his teeth and shook his head.
“I’ve got to say, those are some good hands you’ve got there, fellas,” Xander said, every single eye in the near vicinity sitting on him. “But mine, unfortunately for you both, takes the cake. Read ’em and weep, boys, royal-motherfucking-flush.”
What?
My eyes bugged out in shock as I peered over my man’s shoulder. I almost couldn’t believe what I was seeing when he laid his cards on the table, a royal flush indeed. The original winner banged his fist on the table and scooted out of his chair so fast, I thought he was going to overturn the table as he cussed the high heavens for his loss. The other gentleman didn’t seem as surprised nor angry, but still looked at Xander enviously as he rose from his seat and offered Xander his hand. A good show of sportsmanship, I’d say, unlike the other dude, who was now being approached by security for causing such a ruckus. The dealer proceeded to shove all the chips toward Xander’s end of the table, and there were so, so many, I had no idea how the hell we were going to get them all out of here.
“Told you I could play,” Xander quipped, wrapping an arm around my waist.
“Yes, you did.” I smiled, inching up onto my toes to kiss his lips. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you, thank you.”
“I’d say let’s go get a celebratory drink, but we may want to disappear before the Hulk comes back looking for you.”
Xander chuckled. “Not much he could do about it anyway, but you may be right. Besides, we can order a celebratory drink from our room, along with a few other things.”
“Like what?” I asked, side-eyeing him curiously.
“You let me worry about that. Just prepare to get a little dirty, okay?”
A little dirty?
More like immensely dirty…and sticky. Champagne, fresh strawberries, chocolate syrup, and whipped cream, to be exact.
My man knows how to celebrate, alright.
Location: Bimini, Bahamas
Our stay in Nassau was short-lived. Granted, we were only there for three days but still, it felt like we were there mere hours. I can’t say that wasn’t a good thing. As beautiful as the main island was, I was more than thrilled to put it behind us. It was just too busy. There were too many people, too many wandering eyes. Not that any of the residents or tourists knew who we were or why we were there, but being such a common vacation spot meant the Scarsis might chance their luck at finding us here. We still didn’t know if they were even after us at this point in time, but we couldn’t assume they weren’t. Better to be safe than sorry. Simply put, it was best to keep moving.
Oh, but we weren’t going too far, though. Rather than taking refuge in Jamaica or somewhere similar, Eden was adamant on Bimini. And she wouldn’t
tell me why, regardless of the countless times I asked. All she offered was that I was going to love the location. Naturally, I tried to figure it out for myself, digging through the search history of our ancient iPhone late at night, but of course, there was nothing. She’d wiped everything clean, leaving not the slightest clue as to what exactly was in Bimini that I was apparently going to love so much.
At first, I figured another attraction had brought us here. Even when Eden stressed we needed to do all our shopping—including groceries—before arriving at our destination, I still didn’t think anything of it. But the further the taxi drove us away from the more populated part of the island, the more I realized that was far from the case. Up several hundred feet of the mountain and a few bends led us to a lone dirt road at least twenty miles long, nothing but trees lining its path. Eden was silently buzzing with energy the entire ride up at my obvious interest, especially when a small clearing appeared from one moment to the next and then we pulled up to a tall set of iron security gates.
“Surprise,” she leaned over and whispered, that megawatt smile of hers tearing across her face.
I didn’t know what to say. Hell, I don’t think I’d even processed it fully yet. We were alone out here. No tourist attractions, no markets, no shops. Not even neighbors. This secluded estate was just that. Secluded. Solitary. Sitting high on the mountain, tucked deep within the lush greenery of the rain forest. The chances of anyone finding us out here were slim to none. It’s exactly what I’d been wanting since leaving my aunt’s.
