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“Oww,” I add when my head jolts from the giant leap I took.
“Careful, you’ll put your neck out, and you need all your body parts working if we’re going to do one better than this shitty suite. We’ve got plans for you if this is what you can get for alittle bikini flash,” Charlize says as she and Imogen burst out laughing, and I bang my face down into the mattress repeatedly.
Kill me now.
Chapter Nine
Lukas
I glance down at my phone as a text chimes, alerting me that I have a message. I sit in the restaurant and tuck into the most delicious steak I’ve ever eaten.
It’s a number I’m not familiar with.
Hey, Lukas. It’s Ariana.
My mouth curves into a sly smile as I sit back in my chair.
She got the upgrade, then.
Good.
The second I realized she was sharing a tiny double room with one bathroom, I had to remedy that immediately. And it’s her birthday, so she deserves the luxury.
If it’s your first trip to Cancun, you may as well do it right.
I read on.
Thank you so much for the upgrade, but you really didn’t have to do that. It’s beautiful, though, like being up in the clouds. It was really sweet of you.
She’s so poetic.
The suites here are magical. I had to pull a few strings to get a three bedroom, but I am a good customer here, and I send a lot of business their way.
I type back:
Evening, Ariana. You’re very welcome. I hope you enjoy it. Happy birthday for tomorrow.
I hesitate. I wonder if I should broach dinner again, but I should probably leave it well alone. She’s young, and despite her admission that she doesn’t like clubs—something that pleased me no end—she should be out enjoying herself.
Thank you. My friends think you’re pretty amazing ??
I take a sip of my red wine.
They do? What about you?
I stare at the message and then backspace over the last part; it’s sounds like I’m fucking flirting…
They do? Happy to oblige.
The least I could do is buy you dinner, to say thank you properly.
I smile despite myself. Eager little thing.
Nothing to thank for. And I’d love to have dinner, except I’m paying. It’s your birthday, and a woman cannot and will not buy her own dinner on her birthday, not when there’s cake involved. It’ll be my treat.
I sound like a fucking pussy, but the thought of a woman buying me dinner is charming.
I should not be grinning from ear to ear, but who gives a shit. I can admire a beautiful, attractive woman without seducing her, I think. The fact she’s my son’s ex kind of puts the breaks on anything romantic. It isn’t my fault he can’t keep a good woman, and she’s a cute as a button.
