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“Have you confirmed all of her appointments?” I asked, not referring to Noemi by name. As far as anyone here was concerned, she was guest number two and didn’t have an identity. Anonymity would keep her safe.
“Yes, sir. There’s a copy of her schedule in your packet.”
By the time I returned to Noemi at the bar, she was halfway through her Scorpion Bowl and quite happy with it. She and Landin were laughing over one of his lame cockroach jokes.
“What did the married roach say to his bride –”
I cut him off when I arrived. “Come on,bambina.” I cupped her elbow.
“Oh, okay.”
She smiled at Landin, making me want to punch him in the face even more. Picking up her drink, Noemi hopped off the barstool. I slammed the scotch that was waiting for me, gave her a little nudge, then hung back as she started to walk away.
When she was out of earshot, I snarled at Landin. “A fucking Scorpion Bowl. You’re not getting a tip for that.”
He grinned and shrugged. “But she likes it.”
She liked it a little too much judging by the way she was sucking on the straw when I caught up to her.
She faced me with a vibrant gleam in her eye and a half-sloshed smile on her face. “This is really good.” She slurped some more. “Did you tip him? I know he said the drink was on the house, but he should get a tip. This is phenomenal. Have you ever had one? Where are we going?”
One corner of my mouth ticked upward. Maybe just a little further than usual. “We’re going to our bungalow. No, they’re not my style. And no, he didn’t deserve one.”
I could just see her furrowed brow over the rim of the ridiculous container the Scorpion Bowl came in. She was trying to sort out my answers with a Chinese soup bowl covering half her face. Jesus, she was cute as fuck today.
“Come on,” I growled, practically pulling her down the walkway.
I tried to tune her out as we walked the wooden planked path to our bungalow. Every “ooh”, “ah” and “look at that” grated on my nerves. Or on my dick, which was starting to get very pissed off that I’d denied him for so long. He was painfully aware that we were approaching the room where his abstinence would end.
But not yet. My mind was still in charge and that fucker was going to have to wait his turn.
I pulled out the keys and handed one to Noemi. “Put it somewhere safe.” She shrugged and slipped it into her purse.
I unlocked the door with the other key and ushered her across the threshold.
The bungalows were all isolated. Foliage and trees separated them to provide the most privacy available. Number six was the last one on this path, even more secluded than the others. Like the rest of The Grand Tropican, the furnishings were minimal, with a tropical vibe, but with the elegance expected. Not tacky like you’d find in a hotel for tourists – no fake masks or voodoo idols. Glass windows went from floor to ceiling. A sliding glass door meant you could have an open wall along the back that led out to a private lanai. With the breeze blowing the curtains, the scent of tropical flowers filled the room.
I rely on my senses for nearly everything, honing in on what I can see, hear and smell. Having stayed in that bungalow before, I thought I knew it well. From where the extra towels were kept to how warm the hot tub could get on a humid afternoon. Noemi walked around the living area, inhaling deeply whenever she passed a floral arrangement, smiling when the white linen curtain hit her in the face as the tropical breeze sent the fabric sailing into the air. Seeing the room through her eyes, watching her enjoyment from the simple pleasures around her, I gained a new appreciation for bungalow number six.
My growing erection prodded at my zipper like an angry woodpecker. If I stayed in the room with her, my plans would all go to hell and I couldn’t allow that. She didn’t have that much power over me. Not yet.
I walked up behind her as she explored the lanai.
“This is amazing. I can’t believe you brought me here.”
Oh, baby girl, if only you knew.
“A moment of insanity,” I quipped in my usual deadpan voice.
She took another sip of her drink then giggled. “I saw our bags in the bedroom. Shall I unpack? What are we doing this afternoon?”
“Don’t you know, Noemi? Curiosity killed the cat.”
She frowned, not figuring out what I meant by that remark. She should have. The four, or was it five, different kinds of alcohol in the Scorpion King were already affecting her.
I plucked the drink from her hand and set it on the table.
“You are going to unpack then change into one of the outfits you’ll find in the closet.” I didn’t need to check to know that everything I ordered would be there. I handed her the schedule from the welcome packet. “Here are the appointments I booked for you this afternoon. Massage, nails, whatever.”
