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They share a conspiratorial giggle, but it’s not me they’re laughing at. They’re completely engulfed in their conversation. “It is him. I can’t believe it.” They squeal with hands cupping their mouths. Their shoulders touch like gossiping schoolgirls before they rush to join a swelling crowd of hysterical women near the hotel’s café.

With the rising noise levels, everyone in the lobby turns to the growing mob scene. And because I have a deep fear of missing out, I move across the lobby for a better vantage point of the madness. I stand on tiptoe beside a table displaying fresh leis, trying to glimpse the man who has everyone in a tizzy.

As if the devil himself commanded it, the crowd parts, and a tall figure in a black aloha shirt and a baseball cap appears.

The air whooshes from my lungs and I lose my footing, bumping into the table. Metal legs screech as it jumps across the tile, but I quickly right myself and do my best to act normal.

My gaze pings around, first to make sure no one noticed my bobble, and second to ascertain whether I’m the victim of an elaborate gag. But no, no one is paying attention to my clumsiness. Everyone, and I mean everyone, watches him, the very same man who stole my rental car and new shoes. The same guy I hoped I’d never lay eyes on again.

So much for my peaceful sanctuary.

Not only am I annoyed he followed Tina’s truck, but I’m annoyed he was right. The ride with him would have more comfortable. If comfortable means I would have had a better chance to push him out of the driver’s seat and into oncoming traffic. Given the circumstances, carjacking seems reasonable.

He did say if I stole the keys, I could take the car. So, technically, it wouldn’t be a felony. I mean the carjacking part, not the murder, of course.

“I can’t do that right now, Matt!”

I’m tugged out of my lethal thoughts and into a passing conversation. A woman with long braids grips her phone so tightly, she may crush it with her tawny, brown fingers.

“No, I need to get Gio to his meet and greet. We’re running late. I’ll check in later. But wait, can you confirm the reservation info? I’m locked out of my work account right now.” She repeats the number aloud while making notes on her cell. Someone screams, and her gaze lifts behind her glasses.

“Oh shit. Gotta go.” She ends the call, charges across the lobby, and dives into the pandemonium of female bodies like she’s done it a million times.

The woman extracts Gio with the precision of a surgeon, weaving him around bodies, hugs, kisses, and at least six pairs of fast-flashing fun-bags, which he stops to admire like they are Picassos in the Louvre. And then he has the nerve to whip out a Sharpie and sign them like he’s the artist.

I roll my eyes. He’s so obnoxious. I can’t fathom why anyone would do that. Don’t they know the truth? He’s an egotistical, car-stealing shoe thief!

When they approach, I turn and take my time choosing a lei from the table. It takes a good five minutes before fans empty the lobby. Then they cross the property in a parade of adoring fans waving homemade signs.

Is that someone dressed in a pizza costume? I squint. Another person waves a six-foot wooden spatula. Strange.

“What else, Universe?” I stare at the sky and groan.

How much more can a woman take? Running out of energy, I deflate. Determined to get to the good part—in this case, a hot shower, fresh clothes, and a very deserved nap—I approach the check-in counter.

“Aloha, checking in?” an older man asks.

“Aloha. Yes.” I smile. “Sophia Sinclair.” I slide my license across the counter.

As the desk clerk types on his computer, flashbacks of the car-rental facility fill my mind. I hadn’t thought of it before, but suddenly I’m nervous. Has Roman taken my hotel room too? I twist my necklace around my finger as I try to recall who made the reservation.

“Ah, yes, I have you right here,” he says.

I let out a relieved breath. Finally, some good news.

“Congratulations. Newlyweds?” The man glances around like he’s searching for the lucky groom.

“Not yet.” I release a nervous laugh, hiding the truth.

“Getting married here?” He beams.

I nod, my lips tightening. I’m too tired to explain.

“After the storm passes, the weather will be beautiful.” The man settles two keycards on the counter. Then he unfolds a map to point out my room, as well as the resort’s pools, bars, restaurants, and spa. He reminds me the hotel is adults only.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” He lifts his gaze to mine.

The question hangs in the air for a hot minute. Sure, I should walk away, be a good person and focus on finding Adam, but there’s something that’s nagging me. It’s a developing plan that’s too deliciously devious not to consider enacting. In fact, it might be the greatest revenge play in the history of revenging.