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I bit my lip, setting down my phone. I’d gone to Catholic school and had a confusing experience there. It was strict and I’d spent most of my adolescence with a dry mouth, locked in the fear that everything might send me to eternal torment. At a certain point, unsure of the answers to anything, I’d stopped trying.
I was tired and confused.
And tired of being confused.
My friends slowly slipped away. After I started doing social media as a job, most of them blocked me online and stopped speaking to me altogether. Zita had kept in casual contact, but I knew she disapproved and that cast a shadow over our relationship.
Now, I didn’t really have a lot of friends besides a few women I’d met online that I saw maybe once a year for work trips. I was an only child so my social circle consisted of my parents and their friends and they were all the more pious members of the organization. The ones who disapproved of what the upper classes did.
Being alone didn’t bother me anymore.
I glanced up just as a pair of men passed by, their backs to me. One was around six feet and the other an inch or two taller. The one closest to me had light brown hair and he was older, maybe in his forties, and the other one had black hair and his face was turned away. I could tell by his muscled forearm, his coat draped over his elbow, that he was young.
They paused in the doorway, speaking quietly. The younger man turned eventually, giving me a view of his face. My brows shot up—he was gorgeous. He had a strong, handsome face with a short beard, dark hair swooped back over his head, tanned olive skin, and a blunt aquiline nose. Exactly my type.
They conversed quietly, standing there looking rich and handsome. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. They seemed important and the younger man was a little familiar. Like I’d seen him online or plastered across a magazine. Maybe he was an actor or a model. The city was full of them.
“Vodka soda.”
I shifted my attention to my waiter, a young man not much older than I, and smiled, accepting the drink. He flushed as we made eye contact and shifted his feet.
“Hey, I hope this isn’t weird, but I follow you online,” he said.
“Oh...thanks,” I said, smiling. “I appreciate the follow.”
I was never sure how to respond to that when people said it, luckily it didn’t come up much. He dipped his head and fumbled in his pockets for his notepad.
“What can I get for you?” he said, his tone becoming formal. “There’s a new dish we’re featuring tonight that’s barramundi with lemon and dill and a side salad with a raspberry vinaigrette.”
I smiled up at him, snapping the menu shut. “That sounds divine. Thank you very much.”
He dipped his head and disappeared, his face flushed again. As he moved out of my line of sight, the dark haired man appeared in it. Still in the doorway, but by himself this time, hand in his pocket. His eyes were fixed on me, clearly sizing me up.
My throat tightened and went dry and I jerked my eyes down to my vodka soda. It was ice cold and frosted with a hint of lime on the rim. I took a sip and glanced around the room. A group of young men had just appeared through the side entrance. They lined up along the bar and the tallest of them glanced over his shoulder. His brow rose and his eyes did a slow up and down perusal of my body.
Warmth flickered, coupled with discomfort. Perhaps I shouldn’t have worn such a revealing dress.
I shifted back into the booth, trying to cover my bare legs. The tall man nudged his friend and they both looked over. His friend jerked his head at me, winking and flashing a smile.
Heat crept up my neck. Before I could stop myself, I fluttered my lashes back at him. They both glanced at each other and the tall one reached for his glass, like he was getting ready to head my way.
The dark haired man from the other end of the bar appeared, blocking their path. Confused, I shrank back. He exchanged a few words with them and the tall man lifted his hand, palm up. A gesture of defeat. The dark haired man jerked his head. Accepting it. Then he swiveled on his heel.
He was heading my way. Walking towards me with a faintly amused smirk on his mouth and a glitter in his eyes. Before I could react, he was right in front of me. Sliding into the booth across from me like it was his table.
“That seat isn’t open,” I said.
He leaned back, spreading his knees. “Not anymore it isn’t.”
I cocked my head, lifting an eyebrow. His face was comprised of perfect angles, a strong masculine jaw, and a mouth with a tantalizing curve. His eyes were big and almost black in the low lighting. He was pretty and he knew it, I saw his arrogance in the way he looked at me. Like he’d already seen me naked.
“Someone is meeting me,” I said.
“No, they’re not,” he said. “I checked with the bartender and you’re here alone.”
I glanced sharply to the side. “They’re not supposed to give out that kind of information.”
He shrugged once, lifting a hand—wrist laden with an expensive watch—to the waiter. “My brother owns the resort.”
