Page 232 of Daddy, Take Me Away
As I head to my office after showering and changing back into my suit, I feel the absence of her. The villas are quiet, the guests off enjoying the facilities or on excursions and the empty pathway allows me to slip deeper into my thoughts. I’d snuck out of the bed, leaving her to sleep off the jetlag. But I still carry her with me, the taste of her on my tongue, and her poignant expressions, especially her o-face, burned into my brain.
It makes no bloody sense. I’ve spent the better part of two years avoiding people. Women in particular, except for the ones just looking for a good time. I meet this woman once, find her frustrating as hell, go fucking cliff-jumping with her after hearing that my ex-wife and ex-best friend are on their way from the airport, and now I’m obsessed? These new feelings irritate the hell out of me. Especially when her scent hits me like a wall as I enter my office. I think it’s some fancy brand of sunscreen because it smells like hibiscus, coconut and pineapple.
Did I just describe her scent? I shake my head. Who the fuck am I?
It’s just the exes showing up, I tell myself. Gwen and Émile arriving has me off kilter. Seeing them always makes me crazy but having them here, where we spent our honeymoon, and then where I caught her with Émile, my supposed best friend... it would throw anyone off.
And as if that wasn’t enough, the reason they’re here is so I can negotiate the return of this resort, which Gwen currently owns forty-nine percent of, thanks to her killer divorce lawyer.
Gwen had her own money. She had more money in her trust than my entire family had. Not that we weren’t filthy rich either, but the point is, she didn’t need to take the hotel. She did it because she knew it would hurt me and she was mad because I didn’t react the way she wanted over her infidelity.
She whined that she was lonely, and it just happened. I didn’t spend enough time with her, all I cared about was the business… and on and on. But my father passed away suddenly three days after our wedding, and that meant my time fucking around was over. The Pellegrino Group needed to be run and there was no one else to run it but me.
So yeah, seeing her and Émile is stressful. And who cares if my body responds to Zoë?
She’s a nice escape, with her risk-free unpredictability and excitement. But that’s all she is. A distraction. Unpredictability isn’t what I’m looking for in a … girlfriend.
A girlfriend? Fuck. I don’t do girlfriends. Why the hell would I even think that?
I like people who are drama-free… who don’t challenge me, make me smile out of nowhere, and make my cock jump to attention and lose control while simultaneously taking it.
And I don’t do relationships.
I sit at my desk, staring at her phone which is exactly where she left it. It’s the millionth time I’ve done this in the last hour, so I’ve gotten exactly zero work done.
Sighing, I rise.
I should bring it to her. She can’t get in and out of the villa without it and she’ll likely forget about our appointment tomorrow if it’s not in her calendar. At least that’s what I tell myself as I scoop up her phone and head for the door.
“Mr. Pellegrino?”
“Hm?”
“Milo needs you in the lobby.”
I ignore the ripple of annoyance her words induce and hand her the phone. “Can you have someone bring this to the Eden Suite?”
She nods.
“Actually, can you take it yourself? And remind Miss Wayz about our appointment at 11 am tomorrow.” It’s stupid, but I don’t want one of our bellboys going near the villa where she’s likely still lying naked. Where she might answer the door in nothing more than a silky robe and well-fucked curls.
“Of course, sir.”
Nodding, I head to the lobby.
Chapter Five
Zoë
When I wake up from my glorious nap and climb into the hot spray of the villa’s paradise-worthy waterfall shower, I feel good. No, I feel amazing.
I’m a twenty-eight-year-old woman who has ‘experiences’ for a living and what’s more worthy of the ‘experience’ title than what Amadeo and I just did? Especially since it’s been a secret fantasy of mine since I knew what sex was.
Toweling off, I squeeze my curls dry and lotion my entire body until I smell like the lovechild of a coconut and a pineapple. My two favorite scents. The lotion has SPF fifty because while I don’t burn, I freckle and I already have enough freckles to make a leopard jealous, thank you very much.
A touch of peach lip gloss is all I need before I walk out the door in an apricot sundress and strappy sandals. It’s time I head to the lobby and book myself some experiences at this amazing place and then I think I’ll go for dinner.
Finding my phone on the occasional table by the door, I smile and put it in the pocket of my dress.
