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With his back turned to me, he’s staring out at the sea, which looks more alive from this view. He’s shirtless, with only a pair of gray joggers hanging low on his hips. A cigar dangles from his fingers and he looks sexy as hell.
It takes me a moment before I remember he’s my husband.
I take in the tattoos on his back that make him look so different from the man he is when he’s wearing a suit and his Wall Street face.
Slowly, he turns to face me as he takes a drag from the cigar. I remember when I first thought he looked Mediterranean. Well, with the gorgeous sea behind him and his olive skin, he definitely looks the part now.
“Finally, she’s awake, and she looks sober.” He blows out a ring of smoke. It settles around his face in a haze before it floats away on the edge of the wind.
“Where am I?” I glance around, still trying to figure it out as I look at the bright sun and stunning sea.
“Saint-Tropez.”
I flick my gaze back to him and gasp. “What?Saint-Tropez?” Excitement overrides my shock for a minute. Saint-Tropez is one of the holiday destinations I would kill to go to. Of course, Mom loved Brigitte Bardot, so I grew up looking at pictures of her walking along the scenic beach Saint-Tropez is known for.
That’s where I am now. Good God, my life has surely changed.
“We’re seriously in Saint-Tropez?”My head is spinning with so much excitement I had to ask him again.
“Yes, but on my private island just off the coast.”
My eyes widen even more than they have. “You have your ownislandoff the coast of Saint-Tropez?”
“Yeah. I kind of do.” A playful smile dances across his lips.
Just when I thought I was getting used to the extent of his wealth, he went and proved me wrong. Now we’re standing in another mansion-style house on his island off the coast of Saint-Tropez. And I have no memory of how I got here.
“What day is it?” A stab of humiliation grips me for having to ask that question and reveal how drunk I was, but I swallow my pride because I need to know the answer.
“Monday.” His voice is slow and teasing, and his expression becomes more animated when he sees the horror in mine.
Monday! I don’t know how many more shocks I can take.
How can it be Monday?
We got married on Saturday. So, I’ve been spaced out for over aday?
“It’s really Monday?”
“Yes, but if it makes you feel better, the time here is six hours ahead.”
“Of course that doesn’t make me feel any better.” I cast him an incredulous glare. “When did we leave New York?”
“We boarded my jet straight after we left the wedding. I felt it was best, given your state, to head out while we still could. Once Imanagedto get you on the plane, you slept for most of the journey, but you’ve been in and out of it since we got here.”
“Oh my God.” I pant, bringing a hand to my cheek. All that happened, and I didn’t know. “I can’t remember any of that.”
“Seriously?” As his brows rise, panic races over me when I think about what I must have done in my drunken state.
“Yes.” I’ve never been that drunk to forget whole events, so this is more than alarming. “I remember bits and pieces but not enough to put things together. Like how I ended up naked.”
“Well, maybe it’s best you don’t remember.”
“How is that best? I flew from one country to the next, and I have no recollection of even getting on a plane.”
He smirks and pushes off the wall. “It’s definitely best you don’t remember that part. Let’s just say you’re not exactly a fun drunk.”
I think of the reason I was drinking in the first place and my infuriation returns.
