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I picked up my phone and shot off a text. “Any updates on the G situation?” I sent it off and waited impatiently for a reply.
“Will check it out, but think it will be nothing new. Don’t worry, buddy. Enjoy your sister’s wedding. This is a once-in-a-lifetime event.”
The advice would’ve been sound if not for the worry winding through my gut.
I wasn’t paranoid. Something wasn’t right at the resort. Maybe it was because of the figure Summer and I had seen under the trees a few days ago. Or maybe it’s because you’re a dumbass who’s already in too deep.
That was bullshit. Both Summer and I knew what this whole thing would be about. We didn’t want anything more than that.
Liar.
I checked my emails, sorting through a few work items and liaising with my PA over what needed to be done and what meetings were upcoming in the weeks after my return to Florida. We had several contracts in the pipeline, some of them with big organizations, governmental in some cases, and I couldn’t afford to fuck those up because Summer had invaded my brain.
I grabbed a beer from the bar fridge, and a knock rat-tatted at my room door. I paused, stroking the condensation off the sides of the bottle. What if it was Summer? Back for me. My dick rolled over in my PJ pants at the thought. I considered stripping my shirt off, giving her a real show—she’d always been a fan of my tattoos, but on the off chance it was just Emmy or a turndown service, I kept it on.
I opened the door and found a redhead waiting on the other side. The same one who’d been out in the hall with Summer earlier. She wore a skintight black dress that pressed her breasts together and a smile that I’d seen countless times before.
It was the fuck-me smile, and it made me cringe. I’d never been the type of guy to focus on more than one woman at a time, and the thought of being with anyone other than Summer drew a strong negative reaction from me.
“Hi,” she said.
“Can I help you?”
“I sure hope so,” she said, leaning against the doorjamb and pressing her breasts together. “I hear this is where I’m meant to come if I need some personal help.”
“You heard wrong then,” I replied.
“Oh, I’m sure I didn’t. You remember me from the other night, right?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“I’m Pamela. The bridesmaid. We spoke under the cabana about thirsty Chastity. Remember? She was all over you, and you were revolted. We had quite a touching conversation.”
“Yeah, sure.” Not what I would have called touching, but whatever. “Do you need something specific?” I didn’t want to piss off one of my sister’s bridesmaids. Chances were, that would get back to Emmy and only annoy her, and this was supposed to be her time.
“Oh yeah, you bet I do. How about I come in, and we discuss whatever comes up?”
Did she think this was sexy or smooth? Pamela leaned in, her blue eyes glimmering at me.
“Know what I mean?”
“I’m not interested,” I said. “Sorry.” The last part came out less than apologetic. “Have a good evening, Pamela.” I made to close the door, and she squeezed herself against it, her palm flat to the wood.
“Wait,” she said. “Wait a second, honey.”
“Pamela, I’m going to close this door. I suggest you get out of the way.”
“I know about your little affair,” she said.
I paused but didn’t open the door any wider. “What?”
“I know about you and what’s her name. Summer. Emilia’s bestie? Yeah, I’m pretty sure Emilia wouldn’t like to hear about that, right?” Her eyes sparkled with malice now. “What do you have to say about that?”
“You’re not endearing yourself to me,” I replied.
“Sure, but I mean, let me in, and we could get something going on,” Pamela replied. “Or, you know, I could just have a chat with Emilia about what I saw.”
“You saw me coming out of my room to give Summer her laptop. We did nothing but work on a surprise for Emilia.”
“Whatever. I saw the looks on your faces.”
“Did Summer actually confirm we did anything?”
Pamela licked her lips, a quick dart of the tongue. “Well, no, but I can tell—”
“Look, lady, I don’t know what the hell’s gotten up your ass, but I suggest you remove it before you’re removed from the resort itself. You talk to Summer again, I’ll make sure you’re kicked out of the wedding. Got it?”
“But—look, wait a second. I just wanted us to get to know each other better, you know? It could be really fun.”
I shut the door in her face. I’d gripped the beer bottle so hard I’d shaken it, and beer had spilled on the back of my hand and the carpet. What a fucking weirdo. What had gotten under her skin? She wanted me so bad she thought she could blackmail me into bed?
