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Zara snorts a giggle. “Alina’s got the junior suite. Third floor. That’s so sad.”
“It’s economic. I don’t need more for this working holiday!” the PA replies. “Unlike you, Miss I-Need-The-Penthouse-Or-Else-I’m-Gonna-Go-Crazy!”
“Ah, top floor again, then,” Will sighs, holding back a laugh.
“Only the best for the best,” Zara shoots back.
Meanwhile, I’m still reeling in from what the receptionist said about Will and me. Every incomprehensible emotion that this has given me is even harder to navigate as I realize that I’m looking at two weeks living literally next door to this intricate and… mesmerizing man. I don’t know where it’s going to lead, but something tells me I won’t be the same person walking out of here as I am right now. I can feel a change is coming.
* * *
Once the concierge has us and our bags safely deposited in our suites, I take an hour to simply… unwind. I didn’t even realize how badly I needed this break until I let myself fall onto the massive canopy bed.
There’s a lot on my mind but not much for me to do about any of it. I’m worried about Dad’s blood pressure but Mom says the meds are working and that he’s feeling a lot better. She also has him on an intermittent fasting schedule that has already delivered great results—or so she said. I’ll need to get a hold of Dad and have him confirm, since Mom is notorious in our family for sprucing everything up, including the truth. When Rick tore his knee, she told everyone he just tripped and fell and got a bad sprain. Speaking of, Rick is on his own in my apartment. I shouldn’t be worried since he’s a responsible adult, but I do worry. I can’t help it. I’ve always looked after him, even when we were little. He was the baby of the family, after all.
I’m worried about Nathan and Max, too, though I know I probably shouldn’t be. They were absolute jerks who deserved getting fired. I tried putting myself in Will’s shoes, and I would’ve done the same. I’m just not in his shoes and much softer, though.
And then there’s Will. By the stars, this man has me constantly thinking about him. The only time I do manage to push him out of my head is when I’m working on Asclepius, but he’s somehow managed to slip through the cracks there, too. He’s my boss. He’s untouchable. And besides, there are so many gorgeous and insanely successful women already vying for his attention… I’m frickin’ insignificant by comparison. I’m just an asset that’s likely to bag him the biggest contract his company has ever been offered.
I end up tossing and turning and then pacing my room until I can’t take it anymore.
Five minutes later, as the sun begins to set over the western hills, its reddish rays slashing through the ancient trees, I slip into a light summer dress and head downstairs to grab a drink by the pool. I might even dip my feet into the water, who knows? I’m feeling adventurous, though my idea of adventurous is obviously as vanilla as it’s ever gonna get.
The pool bar is a massive structure made of bleached teak and overflowing with potted succulents—a wondrous display of crimsons and fiery oranges and purples from all the time they spend out in the sun during the day. Soft lounge music plays from the speakers, and the natural stone pool captures the last of that sunset in scarlet and fuchsia flakes of light scattered across the water. There are some folks around, merely a handful already enjoying poolside cocktails and reading self-help books, which I assume is a regular thing to do in these parts, but it’s the godlike creature currently doing laps in the pool that’s got my temperature spiking.
Will Bucklow, as I live and breathe, in just his swim shorts.
“Yeah, I’m gonna need something stronger than this,” I tell the bartender as he serves me a piña colada. “Can I also get a tequila shot? Lime and salt, too, please.”
“Sure thing.” The guy smiles and proceeds to load up a shot glass for me.
I don’t usually need this stuff, but it’s the weekend and the man who gets all my engines roaring is basking in his full splendor while I can’t even bring myself to make my presence known to him. I down the shot and suck on the lime wedge, then sip from my cocktail as the alcohol works its way through my system.
Soon enough, I feel my muscles relaxing.
“Olivia,” Will says, spotting me as I walk over to the pool. “I didn’t see you come out.”
“I needed a drink. Or ten,” I reply, grinning.
He comes halfway up and out, revealing his broad chest and sculpted muscles as he climbs the pool ladder. I lose my focus as my eyes wander along every sharp line, wondering if he has any bit of fat left in his body. His hips are narrow, and finally… there’s a little bit more just above. They’re not love handles, exactly, but the flesh looks softer. I would like nothing more than to run my fingers up and down his skin, to feel the hard and soft spots with equal delight. I’ve downed the cocktail, too, and the liquor is quick to amplify my senses as I come closer.
“Do you want to swim?” he asks, his gaze registering every inch of my body. It’s the first time he’s seen me wearing anything that isn’t work-casual, but my self-consciousness is in a coma on account of the agave spirit currently loosening me up on the inside.
“I don’t have a bathing suit on.”
“I could join you for a drink, then?”
“You looked busy.”
He chuckles lightly. “Just passing the time. I’m trying to take the weekend off like everybody else, but I’m so used to working even a little every day that I forget how to properly unwind.”
Oh, I might have a few ideas on helping him to unwind…
But they all fly out of my head as my foot slips on a wet tile and I fall into the pool with the most humiliating shriek I’ve ever heard come out of me.
I end up splashing and flailing hysterically, panic quick to annihilate any progress the tequila might’ve made as I dread the thought of drowning. I’m drowning! Oh, God, the water… I’m swallowing pool water!
“You didn’t say you couldn’t swim!” I hear Will say. Meanwhile, I’m sinking to the bottom like a frickin’ boulder.
