Except my feelingsarehard, and I want to know where the fuck she went.
I thought I’d be able to check my feelings at the door. Apparently I’m a bit more sensitive than I realized.
I’m still healing from a broken heart. This was just supposed to be one night of fun, no strings, no feelings.
Yeah, that didn’t happen. Maybe I’m not cut out for that life, which is a real shame since I could have a different woman in my bed every night I’m here if I wanted to. And I do want to. But I don’t think I can. It’s just not me.
I try to push Millie out of my mind, but she’s everywhere in this suite—including the bathroom, where I take care of business, brush my teeth, and pull on my swim trunks. I spot her palm print on the window, and I grab a towel from the bathroom to rub off the fingerprints.
It doesn’t matter. I remember how it felt.
One more thing to add into the mix of memories sitting on the table.
I stare at the basket of sex amenities as I contemplate what to do.
My illicit promise from last night comes back to me as my eyes fall onto the ruby on a ring.You’re not leaving this resort without trying this on for size.
If nothing else, I have to find the girl so I can shove this plug up her ass and watch as her eyes roll back in pleasure as I fuck her cunt again. Just one more time.
Eventually, I text Clive.
Me:Do I text you or call room service to order breakfast?
Clive:You can text me your order, and I can have it to you in twenty minutes or less.
I send him my order.
Clive:Anything for any guests?
This is my chance, and I take it.
Me:No, but I need info on the woman who spent the night here. She’s staying in this tower, and I believe her name is Millie or Milly.
Clive:Of course, sir. I will see what I can do.
As promised, there’s a knock on my door fifteen minutes later. Clive wheels in a cart with my food on it, and he sets the plate and drinks on the table.
“I’ve searched for information on your guest, but as the hotel adheres to strict guest privacy, I am unable to retrieve any identifying information,” he says once he has set up my breakfast for me.
I frown. “You sure?” I reach for my wallet, and I pull out a hundred.
His eyes move toward the bill before they flick back to mine. “As I was saying, guest privacy is of the utmost importance here at Paradise Island. If I shared her information with you, I would be obligated to share your information with other guests who offered me a monetary benefit as well.”
I nod. “Of course. Thanks anyway.”
He nods. “If there’s anything else?”
“What’s going on at the pool?” I ask.
“The pool for this tower offers privacy in an adults-only atmosphere with both relaxing amenities and social entertainment. We offer a swim-up bar, musical entertainment, poolside games, and various tasting events. I’m able to reserve you a cabana if you’re interested. You can text me for food orders from the pool as well as book a poolside massage or other spa treatment.”
I raise my brows. It really is paradise here, which is great…but I’ve been here less than eighteen hours, and I’m already getting a little antsy. The pool should be a place to hang out and relax, though to be honest, I’m not exactly sure I knowhowto relax.
“What other activities are there?” I ask.
“We offer a variety of excursions, from private fishing charters to snorkeling, culinary walking tours, historical tours, any type of cruise you’d like, various animal encounters, luxury shopping trips, and helicopter tours over the islands. I can get you some brochures if you’re interested, or I can set up an appointment with our activities director to help you plan your stay.”
It all sounds like a lot. Where do I start? I could likely plan something for every day I’m here. Try every excursion.
