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“I think there might be other factors at play, too.” Bryce watched the Joneses, looking amused. “I’ll handle it. Mom loved this place, remember? We’re not leaving quietly.” He started rapid-texting on his phone while the rest of us stood there awkwardly, weathering Mimi Jones’s hateful gaze.
A moment later, an attractive woman with caramel-colored skin, who wore a linen suit like Serge’s and a sour expression, strode toward us. Serge followed her, looking miserable.
“I’m Angela, the Club’s Manager.” She stiffly shook Bryce’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Windsor. I’m sorry if our offer of an enclosed room isn’t appealing to you, but out of privacy concerns for our other members, we feel it’s appropriate to have your party accommodated this way.”
“Thank you, Angela.” Bryce smiled at her. “I’m happy to say that we’ll take our usual spot—at the dais overlooking the pool.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s not possible—”
“It’s absolutely possible.” Bryce held up his phone so she could see the screen. “Because I just bought the club. I overpaid, of course. By alot. But it was worth it.”
Angela blinked at the screen. Serge read it over her shoulder, looking impressed. The other club members pretended not to watch the showdown.
After a moment, Angela stepped back. “Then by all means, right this way, Mr. Windsor.”
“Thank you, Angela,” Bryce said smoothly.
She cleared her throat. “I hope you’re a better boss than the last guy.”
“I’m not.” Bryce didn’t wipe the smile from his face. He threw his arm around me and started for our seats. “And it’s nothing personal, but I’m demoting you. Serge, you’re the manager now. Will you please let the other guests know that, as of today, the Windsors own the club? And I’m increasing the prices. If anyone has a problem with that, throw them off the dock.”
Serge blinked at him. “Seriously?”
Bryce laughed. “No. But you are the new manager. So can you have someone get my brothers drinks? They look like they need them.” He sauntered over to the pool dais, blithely ignoring the other member’s stares.
And I just followed the club’s new owner, shaking my head.
* * *
The paparazzi was out in the water, hidden from our view. I forgot all about them—if they were ensconced somewhere in the bushes, taking pictures, we were blissfully unaware. Same thing with the Windsors’ security team. Bryce’s men were positioned around the club, but they somehow faded into the scenery. I felt safe but not smothered by their presence.
Owning the club, Daphne declared, did not suck. Michael and Mimi Jones had abruptly left. They looked as though they were arguing. Then the Mayweathers came over and offered their congratulations to Bryce for buying the club and to Daphne for her pregnancy. The staff attended to our every need, and the other guests were much friendlier once they realized Bryce could, and would, happily revoke their legacy memberships.
“Remind me to tell them to order that new alcohol-free champagne everyone’s been telling me about,” Daphne said as she laid back in her lounger. She wore a black bikini, and her stomach remained super flat. “And can we revoke the Jones’s membership?”
Bryce didn’t answer her. He’d declared our party exempt from the club’s no-cell-phone rule and had been texting with legal for the better part of an hour. He seemed distracted. Still, he’d managed to position me right next to him on our double-wide lounger and had kept at least one hand on me the entire time. The man could multi-task!
Jake was drinking a beer and reading on his phone. Colby was the only one in the crystalline aqua pool beside an older woman with gray hair who’d been swimming laps for what seemed like hours. He’d borrowed a float and didn’t appear to be in any rush to get out. When he floated into the lady’s path, she scolded him.
Colby smiled at her good-naturedly. “Sorry, but I own this pool. Maybe you could swim around me?”
When she looked horrified, he started to laugh. “I’m just kidding! I’ll stay on my side, I swear. Nice form, by the way. Do you swim professionally?”
It seemed as though he’d made a new friend. She took a break and started chatting with him. He waved a server over and ordered another beer for himself and an iced tea for her.
“Well, now I know why everyone was staring at us.” Jake looked up from his phone. “You guys are all over the news. All over each otherandall over the news.”
Bryce stopped trailing his fingers down my arm long enough to glare at his brother’s phone. “What’s that?”
“That’s the announcement about the Kysa Reeves interview, which airs tonight.” Jake scrolled down. “Andtheseare pictures from yesterday. You have to give it to Olivia Jensen. She works fast.”
He handed Bryce the phone. The first image was of Kysa Reeves interviewing us; the news program was airing that evening. I’d almost forgotten that I was going to be on cable news—thank goodness I hadn’t said much!
The following images were all intimate ones of Bryce and I—embracing in the jeep, staring at each other on the rocky beach, kissing and holding hands at the restaurant. There were pictures of his gorgeous house. The headline read:
Despite Mounting Woes, Billionaire Bryce Windsor’s Still Honeymooning
Even I had to admit the pictures were clicky. The headline was irresistible. Who was the billionaire who dared to enjoy his honeymoon while his company’s woes mounted? It wasn’t the spin I’d expected, but the article was kinder to Bryce than the title suggested. It stated that he was making his new marriage a priority in the midst of the scandal because he’d waited so long to find the right woman and settle down.
