I don’t even bother fighting with him over who gets to pull my suitcase. The luggage wheels grind on the stone behind me as I step through the sweeping revolving door into the lobby.
“Holy shit,” Spencer mutters behind me, his voice just audible above the sound of the water rushing over the waterfall feature in the middle of the space. The white marble floors are spotless, drawing my eyes across the room to an open wall leading into a path lined with greenery.
The concierge wears a crisp gray suit and smiles genuinely as I approach the desk. “Welcome.”
“Hi, we’re checking in.” I stiffen as Spencer sidles up beside me. He curls his fingers around mine as I give her my name.
Right. We’re supposed to be together.Marriedor whatever.
Her gaze is drawn to the rock on my finger, and her smile widens.
“Congratulations on your marriage! I see you’ve booked the luxury honeymoon villa as part of our platinum club.”
Spencer whistles low, the breath of it carrying across my exposed neck. Goose bumps explode across my skin in a prickling cascade. I elbow him in the ribs, relishing in his muffled grunt of pain.
So I went a little overboard booking my honeymoon and spared no expense. Sue me. Maybe my subconscious knew something that I didn’t and I set myself up to have the most relaxing vacation known to woman. I can’t say I’m complaining when I think about the unlimited cocktails and spa treatments awaiting me this week while Sebastian is back in Fairview Valley drowning in paperwork.
I should have known that marriage wasn’t meant to be. What attorney books his wedding and honeymoon right when he’s expecting a big case to go to trial? He spent so much time commuting to Minneapolis these past couple of months that I hardly saw him.
I clear my throat. “That’s right.”
“Lovely. These wristbands contain your room key and will provide access to the resort amenities. Your reservation for dinner at our hibachi restaurant is at six this evening. Your butler Agustin can take care of booking the remainder of your reservations, and he will bring your luggage by shortly.”
“That’s okay, I got it,” Spencer replies.
“I insist.” She smiles. “You don’t need to carry all this around while you explore. Drinks are all-inclusive at any of the bars and lounges, including the minibar in your room. Relax. Enjoy your stay.”
“Come on.” Squeezing harder than necessary, I drag Spencer with his hand still clasped in mine, leaving our possessions behind.
“Bossy woman.” I can’t tell if it’s a tease or a gripe.
I steer us down the path at the back of the lobby, holding his hand until we’re officially out of sight. Dropping his palm, I wipe mine on the front of my thigh. “Now that that’s sorted, I’ll see you later.”
Spencer catches me by my elbow. “I don’t think so.”
“Spencer.”
“We need to go see our room before you set off on a tour of all the bars in a quest to get as drunk as you can. There’s only an hour and a half until dinner as it is.”
“I’m not having dinner with you.”
“Yes, you are.” He peers at me from behind his shades. I can’t see his eyes through the dark glass, but I can tell by the dip of his chin that he’s looking at me.
I can’t help but wonder what it is he sees.
I close my eyes as I inhale deeply. “Why, exactly, do we need to have dinner together?”
“Don’t you think it’ll look a little weird if I dine alone?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something. You had no problem telling the flight attendant I was ‘sick’ on the plane.”
“And you don’t think our butler would show up stat to get you some medicine or, hell, a doctor?”
I cross my arms stubbornly. “I don’t know how else to say this. I don’t want to have dinner with you.”
“Tough shit, Kitten. I bought this ticket for the vacation, but I bought your company too.”
My mouth drops open. “Like hell you did.”
