On our table is a bouquet of passion flowers, clearly selected just for us. With a wink, Ankor picks one from the arrangement and tucks it behind my ear.
I laugh and he kisses me as the waiter leaves. I expect him to come back with a menu, but instead the chef himself stops by our table to introduce himself. Ankor asked him to give us a private tasting of his choice. There’s a sommelier too, who presents the wines she’s paired with the menu.
It’s more fun that I’d ever had at a restaurant before. The chef sits with us as we eat and explains the complexities of every dish. The inspiration, the local ingredients. By the end of the night, we’re all laughing together, fast friends, and the sommelier, Jessica, winds up joining us too, telling us about how she became a sommelier and bounced around the world until she met Enrique, the chef. They’re married now, and they run this restaurant—along with a whole chain of others, so famous even I recognize a few names—together.
They’re sweet. And I’m guessing, based on the number of glances they shoot at Ankor, that they know who he is too. But they’re both kind enough not to say anything, and I’m grateful to them for it.
By the time dinner ends, we all hug. Before we can leave, Enrique stops us. “There’s a party tonight… Private,” he adds, when Ankor looks concerned. “Just a few locals and some of the restaurant owners getting together down on the beach. If you two are interested, we’d love to have you. Drinks, dancing, more food, of course.”
I laugh. “I don’t know if I could eat another thing.” I eye Ankor, willing to take his lead.
He smiles back at me. “It could be fun, though, to dance a little of this meal off.”
“I’m up for it.” I grin.
Jessica actually claps her hands; she looks so excited. “Great. See you both there.” She kisses our cheeks before we go, and gives us the address.
We spend the couple of hours between dinner and the party wandering the little beachfront shops. Most are closed at this hour, but Ankor finds an open jewelry shop and practically drags me inside. “I’m just curious,” he says.
“You better not be trying to bribe me with shiny things,” I protest.
“No bribes.” He places his hand over his heart. “Just a gift, that’s all.”
My cheeks flush. “Ankor!”
“You can’t blame me for wanting to spoil you. Not when you’re so spoilable.” He tugs me closer and kisses me, and how can I say no to those lips of his, dammit?
Half an hour later, we leave the shop with a dainty white gold bracelet studded with sapphires on my arm. It was the least expensive thing I could let Ankor buy. He was eying a necklace that cost more than I paid last year in rent, for god’s sake. At least I managed to convince him it was too gaudy—and it was.
I like the bracelet, though. It sparkles in the streetlights as we walk through town. Ankor catches me eying it and smiles. “You like it?”
“Very much.” I tilt my head up. He reaches up to readjust the passion flower in my hair, before he cups my face gently in his fingertips and kisses me. Slow and soft, filled with heat.
It makes my breath hitch. It makes me wonder if maybe we should skip the party and just go back to our rooms at the resort instead. When we break apart, I watch him, a little crease of worry on my brow.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, reaching up to smooth that crease with a thumb.
I press my lips together for a moment, unsure how to explain. “I’m just…” I glance from the bracelet to him and back. “I hope you won’t start to think I’m using you the way your exes did, Ankor. First you pay for my rooms at the resort, now all this…” I gesture vaguely at the town around us.
“Sinclair.” He wraps his hands around my shoulders and holds me in place. Bends until his forehead touches mine, and we’re gazing into one another’s eyes. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought you were anything like my exes. I know you don’t care about how much money I have. But I want to treat you well. I want to treat you the way you deserve. Because trust me, you deserve everything in the world I can give you and then some.”
I smile, feeling my worries smooth away. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure.”
“Don’t be silly.” He tips my chin back again and kisses the corner of my lips. Then my jawline. Then down to the soft spot below my ear, that always makes me shiver. “You are worth so much more to me than any amount of money,” he whispers, breath hot against my skin, and my heart does a flip in my chest.
“So are you,” I murmur, and his arms tighten around me, tugging me toward where we parked the car. I have a feeling we’re going to be a little bit late to the party…
* * *
We stay at the party late. It turns into a kind of luau, complete with a whole pig roasting in a pit dug into the sand. Shockingly, we eventually get hungry enough to eat again, and the food is as amazing as it was in the restaurant. We make a few new friends, and although some people seem to do double-takes when they see us, for the most part, everyone seems cool. Nobody asks too many questions.
And I make sure to call Ankor Ankor as often and as loudly as possible, hoping that will help.
We wind up lying on the sand near the bonfire toward the end of the night, leaning against one another, beers in hand. It feels good to do this. To be out in public, acting like a normal couple. Jessica and Enrique sit near us, swapping stories about what it’s like to own a restaurant on this island, and the kinds of people they meet. Enrique starts to tell us a story about some celebrities acting wild, but then he seems to catch himself and stops. Jessica elbows him and finishes the story for him.
By the end, all of us are in stitches laughing. We toast our beers and drink to the enduring power of fame and celebrity to make people lose their damn minds. Secretly, though, if you ask me, I think people are always a bit nuts. Fame and celebrity just make them confident enough to let their crazy hang out all over the place.
I’m glad Ankor isn’t like that. I never knew him when he was acting famous, obviously, but I can’t imagine him being mean to restaurant owners or wait staff just because he could. He’s always so polite and thoughtful and considerate. It makes me like him even more. Makes me want to give him a real chance, no matter how risky it might be.
By the end of the party, someone blasts loud music, and Enrique pulls Jessica up to dance. “Come on,” they shout after us. “You can’t just sit there lazing around.”
With a loud sigh, Ankor turns to me and hops to his feet, grinning. “I suppose they’re right. May I have this dance?”
“What are you, some formal knight?” I ask, laughing, the beer warming the blood in my veins.
He bows, making me laugh even louder. “My lady,” he says, before he offers his hand. I take it and let him pull me to my feet, then straight into his arms.
It’s a slow song, pulsing and melodic. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and lean my head against his chest, swaying with the beat. Our feet shuffle in the sand. I let my eyes drift shut, happy. I can hear his heartbeat against my ear, feel his warm, strong arms wrapped around me, and the real world feels so far away. All my fears, my nightmares, my past… It’s too far away to catch me now.
I can relax. I can let go. For once in my life, I’m finally free.
I tighten my grip on Ankor and thank every star glittering in the huge sky above that we found each other. Or that he found me, rather. Since I’d never have pursued a guy like him. I grin against his chest and he holds me closer, and for that moment, it’s just the two of us in the world who matter.
We make it back to the hotel late, although with a few drinks still fizzing in our veins, neither of us are able to sleep. We wind up staying awake even later, especially after Ankor suggests a hot shower, which he uses as excuse to get me all hot and bothered yet again…
I wake up in his room, cradled in his arms, my phone nearly dead on the nightstand next to us. It’s blinking, and I realize that’s what woke me. Ankor has blackout curtains, but the light from my phone
is a little too blinding in the morning-after light.
With a groan, I disentangle myself from Ankor’s arms and scoot over to snatch up my phone. I turn on the screen, squint blearily at the photo there…
And gasp. Loud enough to wake Ankor with a start.
“What is it?” he asks, crawling across the bed to where I’m frozen in horror, staring at my cell.
I don’t know what to say, so I just turn the phone around to show him, instead. It’s a message from my cousin, Katrina. Just a single attachment, a photo, and a quick note beneath. IS THIS YOU??
The photo is a screenshot of the Daily Gossip’s front page, dated today—a few hours ahead of our time zone here, since that paper’s based out of London.
MIA Billionaire Playboy Marco Helmtree Spotted on Vacation in Maui with His New Fling. Beneath the headline is a photo from last night. It’s blurry, lit only by the bonfire. But unfortunately our faces are all too clear. Me wrapped in Ankor’s arms, swaying to music, both of us smiling as we dance.
My stomach churns. I think I’m going to be sick.
“Fuck.” He swears, under his breath at first, and then louder. “Fuck. Who took this?”
I shake my head. There was at least a couple dozen people at the party. “It could have been anyone.”
“We should talk to Enrique and Jessica. If it was one of their friends, maybe they know…”
“Does it matter?” I interrupt, unable to restrain myself. My voice rises higher, to a fever-pitch. “It’s too late now. Finding someone to blame won’t take the picture off the internet. Everyone knows now, everyone’s seen…” I trail off, too horrified to even finish the sentence.
“Sinclair.” He finally looks at me, for the first time since I handed him the phone and tore our world apart. I think it’s the first time he’s noticed the level of panic in my eyes, really noticed it. He was too wrapped up in his own concern to notice until just now. But now that he sees it, he reaches for me, and takes both of my hands in his, squeezing my hands tightly. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
I take a deep breath. I’d hoped this moment would never come. Or that if it did, at least it would be my choice. Not forced upon me by a situation like this. But it’s too late now. That newspaper is well-read; that photo will have made it into inboxes all around the world.
And into one inbox in particular.
I force myself to meet Ankor’s gaze, as steadily as I can. “My life is in danger. And so is yours.”
9
Ankor
The last thing I expected to wake up to this morning was the truth about Sinclair’s past. But thanks to that damn photo, it seems like that’s what I’m about to get.
I hold her hands, not saying anything, just being here for her until she gathers up the courage to speak again.
“I told you I was a virgin,” she says. “That’s true. But not because I haven’t dated before.” She hesitates. Checks my face, as if to gauge my reaction, then lowers her eyes once more before she speaks again. “I met my first boyfriend my last year of college. We dated for years, but he was so traditional—he wanted to wait until we were married and living together to have sex. He said anything else was…” She pauses. Swallows hard. “Was dirty. That women who had sex before marriage were ruined and disgusting.”
I clench her hands more tightly, if only to stop mine from shaking with anger. I have a feeling I know where this is going, and it already makes me want to tear this guy apart, before I even know details.
“He was… he was really sweet at first. Most of my friends liked him. All except for my cousin… She thought he was too nice. She was suspicious. She tried to tell me that some of the stuff he did was controlling—stuff like calling me every night to make sure I got home safe and making me text him whenever I went anywhere besides work or home. I just thought it was romantic. That he was protective.” Her breath hitches again. “My parents died when I was young, and I had no siblings. My cousin was my closest family, and she lived hours away. I wasn’t used to having people, much less someone who cared about me the way he did…”
I wish I could just wrap her in my arms and take the pain away.
I wish I could rip apart the man who made her feel this terrified. Because that’s what this is. Her hands tremble in mine, even now, with fear.
“He just got more and more controlling. He thought I spent too much time at work. He started showing up at the hospital at weird hours, trying to catch me in the act, he kept saying. He was convinced I was cheating on him. Nothing I said could convince him otherwise. I thought once we got married, he’d relax, get better. I quit my job for him, and we agreed on a wedding date… But it only got worse after that. He…” She gently disentangles one hand from mine and reaches up to stroke her right shoulder. Where the scar that made her freak out when I first saw it is.
My fists clench so hard my knuckles crack.
“He gave me this,” she whispers, voice shaking. “One of the times he beat me. He threw me into the glass window of my porch. It broke, and…”
For a long moment, there’s no sound in the room except both of us breathing hard. Her, trying to get her tears under control. Me, trying to contain my fury.
“Sinclair.” I reach out to wrap my arms around her, and she collapses into me, her back heaving as she sobs. I rub her shoulders in gentle circles, trying to calm the angry pulse at my temple, the fury in my veins.
When she speaks again, her voice is muffled by my shirt. “I ran away to my cousin’s house. For a little while, I thought I might be okay. But then he looked her up online, figured out where I was. He came after me, broke down her door in the middle of the night swearing that if he couldn’t have me, nobody would. He said he’d kill me if I ran again. But my cousin helped me escape to the airport, and I took all the money I’d managed to save up and just… just bought the first ticket I could find for as far away as I could get.” Her breath hitches again, and I hear a sob, and tighten my arms around her.
I wait until she’s cried the worst of it out, before I gently lean back and tip her chin upright. Her eyes remain shut, scrunched tight with pain at the memory.
“Sinclair, look at me.” She opens her eyes. I hold them as I speak, slow and careful, so she knows I mean every word. “Nobody is going to hurt you, not while you’re with me.” I brush my thumb over her cheek, collecting tears and gently wiping them away. “I will never let anything happen to you, understand me? And I’m the kind of man who can keep that promise. What’s the good of all this money and power if not to protect the woman I care for?”
The woman I love. I think it, but I don’t say it, not yet. Not while she’s in this state. It wouldn’t be fair. It would feel too much like taking advantage of her pain, when in reality all I want to do is take that pain away, in any way I can.
Well. That, and destroy the man who gave her this pain in the first place.
She leans further into me, her arms going around my waist. She turns her cheek, resting her head against my chest. I feel her sigh. “You don’t know what he’s like…”
“An abusive creeping son of a bitch who thinks he owns you? Sinclair, men like that are a dime a dozen. Believe me, if you want him gone tomorrow, I’ll make one phone call and it’ll be done.”
She laughs a little, which surprises me, and then she tightens her arms around my waist. “Why do I want to believe you?” she asks, with another faint huff of laughter.
Once more, I tilt her chin back, until she meets my gaze. It’s easier to convince her this time. And she holds my gaze longer, those beautiful with blue eyes of hers filled with emotion. I reach up to brush her red, red hair back from her forehead, then cup her cheek, never tearing my gaze from hers. “Because you know I’m right,” I tell her. “You’re safe now, Sinclair. It’s okay.”
She smiles. It’s a little wavery at the edges, but it’s a smile, and I’ll take it. “You know, when I came here…” She hesitates. Swallows. “The reason I started taking up swimming was b
ecause I wanted to face my fears. That’s one thing that always scared me, and I… with him, he was always making fun of me for anything I couldn’t do. Making me feel foolish for even trying. So I thought, if I could learn how to do this one thing, this thing I’ve always wanted to be able to do my whole life but never believed I could… Then maybe it would prove his hold on me was broken. And maybe, if I could overcome my fear of the water, it’d prove that eventually, I could overcome my other fears, too.”
I lean down until my forehead is pressed against hers. “How do you feel about that plan now?”
Her smile widens, just a little. “I’m pretty sure it’s working.”
“Good.” I lean in to kiss her, slow and soft. Then I break apart, and flash her a smile of my own. “Because I think you’re right, Sinclair. It’s time to face our fears. And I for one, am done hiding.”
Her eyebrows shoot upward. “You mean…”
“I mean, I think it’s time to go back to my real life. After that photo leak, there will be paparazzi all over this resort in a minute anyway. Won’t take long for someone to do the math and remember I own property in Maui. Will take the rest of the beachgoers around here even less time to start talking about the swim instructor who moved here a few months ago, as soon as some reporter shows the wrong food stand guy a photo.”
Sinclair worries at her lower lip. “I feel like this is my fault. You were doing such a good job staying away from everything, and then I came along and got close to you and blew your cover.”
I shake my head. “First of all, going out on a proper date was my idea, so if there’s anyone at fault here, it’s me.” I grin and pull her closer to me, until those soft, sexy curves of hers brush up against my leg. I slip my hands down her sides, tracing her curves until I reach her waist. “And as for getting close to me, that was also my fault. I just could not keep my hands off you.” I slide them down further, tracing her hips, and grin at her reaction, the way she shivers and leans into me, a sly grin appearing on her lips.
Married to the Secret Billionaire Page 9
