Page 54 of Beauty and the Beach
“Sure,” he says with a nod, his glasses glinting in the light of the bonfires spotting the beach around us.
I turn toward Phoenix and Jane, my heart pounding in a way that doesn’t make sense. My hands are clenched into unnecessary fists, and my feet are all set to carry me to the two of them—to do what, I’m not certain.
I’m surprised to see, then, that they’ve stopped talking; Jane has disappeared into the crowd, and Phoenix?
Phoenix is moving toward me.
He’s moving in my direction, and even in the orange light of the fires I can see his eyes darting back and forth between me and Briggs before finally, dark and burning, they settle on me.
Something swoops low in my stomach, something anticipatory, somethingwanting.It’s a feeling that’s both foreignand faintly familiar—a book that was shelved long ago, dusty and hidden, now being rediscovered.
There are people mingling everywhere, dancing all around us, but they fade into the periphery as he stalks closer. He’s a magnet, pulling my eyes, pulling the breath from my lungs.
This should not be happening. He should not be storming toward me with that look in his eyes, and my pulse should not be tripping.
Keep things business-focused,I tell myself.
“I think we should add something to the contract,” I say as soon as he comes to a stop in front of me.
“I agree,” he says, his voice low and silky. He’s too near; but the music is loud, and the people around us are dancing, and somehow I find myself taking a step closer, until we’re separated by mere inches.
“Even though this marriage is in name only—” I begin, but I break off, trying to find the words I’m so embarrassed to say. Because I can’t tell him not tosmileat other women if he’s not going to smile at me. That’s ridiculous and stupid and I shouldn’t care.
When I look at him for help, though, Phoenix only raises his eyebrows—like he’s daring me to go on.
“Yes?” he says, clasping his hands behind his back.
I exhale roughly, frustrated. “You know what I mean.”
“Hmm,” he hums. He tilts his head as he looks down at me. “Do I?”
“I just think that while we’re married, we should refrain from—from?—”
He moves impossibly closer, his dark eyes holding me captive. “Say it,” he breathes. It’s not a request; it’s a command.
But I can’t make myself speak. I can’t bring myself to spitthose words out, because they’ll mean something—it will be as good as admitting that I’m jealous.
“As mywife,Amsterdam,” he says in a low voice, “you’re the only person in the world who has the right to ask this of me, so just say it.”
I narrow my eyes, annoyed. He already knows what I’m trying to say, and he’s making me speak the words anyway.
But you know what? He’s right. I am his wife. I can’t tell him not to smile, but I’m allowed to ask for more reasonable things. So I take a deep breath and straighten up, the sand soft beneath my feet as I shift. Then, trying to ignore the heat I feel in my cheeks, I speak. “I think we should refrain from extramarital relationships for the duration of the contract.”
“I agree,” he says immediately. “I’ll have Wyatt add it first thing in the morning.”
My shoulders relax as relief trickles gently in, a cool breeze after uncomfortable warmth.
But Phoenix notices—and something wicked flares to life in his eyes. “Never thought I’d see you get jealous,” he says, cocking one brow at me as his lip curls like the smoke rising to the heavens around us.
I stare at him, lost for words, until finally I manage to splutter something out. “I’m not jealous. I just think you’re giving a lot of attention to other women when you’re not actually available?—”
“And you’ve been smiling at Briggs Dalton an awful lot for someone who comes home to me every night,” he cuts me off smoothly.
“Comes home to you—” I begin, my eyes widening. It sounds so intimate when he phrases it like that. “Are you—wait.” I break off as his words register.
He knows who I’ve been talking to. He knows I’ve been smiling.
He’s been watching me, just as much as I’ve been watching him.
