Page 9 of What Doesn't Kill You…

CHAPTER THREE

Wednesday Afternoon

Wedding Island

The Caribbean

It took seventeen hours and three flights, on increasingly smaller planes, to get to the island of St. Patrice. From there, it was a short boat ride to Wedding Island. At last, they were in the resort, and the final part of Max's plan to bring down Damien Poole had been set in motion. He could hardly believe that all his years of hard work were about to come to fruition. This was it. The moment everything had been leading to. The opportunity he needed to put the bastard in jail.

He felt wired at the thought. Adrenaline coursed through him making him hyper aware of everything around him, including the woman at his side, as they walked through the hotel lobby.

Violet had been avoiding him since their first meeting in Houston, even going so far as to refuse to sit beside him on the journey to Wedding Island. She'd politely informed him that their fake relationship didn't start until they reached their destination, and that until then, he was to leave her alone. It didn't bode well for pretending to be a happy couple.

"Remember," Rodrigo whispered to him as they made their way through the wide hotel lobby. "You're happy to be here and excited about the wedding. That's all we want the staff to see, nothing more."

"Got it." Although he wondered why Rodrigo was briefing him and not his temperamental fake fiancée.

Then he saw that Katrina was whispering to a frowning Violet and realized they were both getting the same pep talk.

"It's showtime," Katrina hissed before gently shoving Violet toward Max. "Smile!"

As Violet came up beside him, she bared her teeth.

He shuddered. "Forget trying to play the happy bride. I'll tell everyone you have jet lag."

"Tell them whatever you like," she said, her eyes scanning the area. Probably looking for threats. "Just get us to our room as fast as possible." She tugged at the pale blue jumpsuit she'd worn for the trip. "I need to get out of this onesie. Every time I move, I get a wedgie. At this rate, I'm going to be permanently damaged, and you can kiss goodbye to a wedding night."

He tripped over his own feet and almost face planted in one of the oversized potted ferns. With ninja speed, Violet reached out and righted him before he could injure himself. So much for being low key.

"Wanna be less obvious?" she admonished him.

"Sorry, I couldn't help it. You made a joke. I'm not sure it was entirely appropriate, but it was definitely a joke." He hadn't realized it was possible.

"I'm a funny person," she said, completely deadpan.

He felt like he'd fallen down the rabbit hole. "What's gotten into you? You’ve hardly said two words to me since we met and now, you're talking and cracking jokes."

She cocked a thumb over her shoulder to Katrina, who was watching him intently. "I suffered through a seventeen-hour lecture on how to appear normal when I'm with you. Apparently, 'jokes ease tension and foster familiarity'. I'm quoting here."

He honestly didn't know what to say to that and Violet didn't seem to need a reply. She was back to scanning the room for danger. Max did a visual sweep too, trying to see the hotel the way she did. All he saw was the white marble flooring, a plethora of potted ferns, and lots of overhead fans.

"Violet," Katrina said through a smile. "I told you to be nice to him, not to toy with him."

"I'm doing the best I can," she grumbled. "It's this bloody onesie. I need to get out of it before I go insane."

"What's wrong with your playsuit?" Katrina asked. "I chose it especially so you'd have full range of movement, and the cotton would keep you cool. Plus, you look adorable in it."

"I look like I'm ten years old. The shorts are too short, the neck is too low. But the worst part is, I have to take the whole damn thing off to go to the toilet. As soon as I get to my room, I'm setting fire to it."

"How about we leave the clothes talk until later and check into our rooms?" Rodrigo said, obviously deciding this would turn into a full-blown argument if he didn't intervene.

"Good idea," Max said. "After you, honey." He reached out to place a hand in the small of Violet's back.

She stiffened and glared at him.

He dropped his hand, then looked around to see if anyone noticed her reaction. No one was paying attention to them, but Rodrigo and Katrina shared a worried look.

"Hi," Max said to one of the many hotel receptionists, all dressed in the same blue and silver uniform. "We're checking in. It's the Durant wedding. I'm Max and this is my fiancée, Violet Lee." He gestured to Violet before giving the receptionist a wan smile. "Violet had a rough flight. She isn't a good traveler, so we're looking forward to relaxing in our room."