Page 41 of The VIP Package

I freeze at the sharpness in his voice. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

It’s not fine. Clearly, I touched a sore spot. I’m batting oh-for-two as a therapist today. “I was just being glib. I understand you have secrets. Pain I can’t possibly?—”

“That’s right, you can’t.” Gritting his teeth, he picks up the other lounge chair. Slamming it shut, he stuffs it under his arm. “I’ll wait for you on the tender.”

Ash storms away and I watch him go, observing the tension in his back. The closed-off hunch of his shoulders as he stomps down the dock.

God, I’m a jerk. I can’t believe I didn’t read the signs. There’s been turbulence bubbling just below the surface from the moment I brought up that photo. I should have picked up on it sooner. I should have known better than to push.

I gather my things, rehearsing an apology I plan to deliver on the boat. I’ll mind my own business for now. For the rest of mylimited time with Ash, I’ll remember my place in his life. I’m an uninvited guest taking advantage of his kindness and his sexual attention. We’re not friends. Not even lovers, really.

We’re temporary fuck buddies on a layover lasting a little longer than either of us planned.

As I shoulder my beach bag, I order myself to remember that.

CHAPTER 8

ASHTON

I’m an insufferable asshole.

I’ve known it forever, but I earned a reminder today. Someone as sweet and kindhearted as Camille doesn’t belong in the company of a heartless bastard like me. We shouldn’t even exist on the same planet.

Camille’s urge to help fellow humans in need only ensures I’ll wrap my slick tentacles around her delicate ankles and drag her to the bottom of the sea. I’ve learned that the hard way already. Refreshing the lesson feels like ice water dumped down my trousers, but it’s necessary. She’d understand if she truly knew me.

“Thank you again for the lovely day.” A breeze lifts her hair off her shoulders as Camille sets her gym bag on my private dock at the Crystal Bliss marina. “I had a great time.”

I don’t even walk her to her suite. That’s how much of an asshole I am. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

She touches my arm and I flinch. “I want to apologize again for my poor attempt at humor. It was inappropriate and completely uncalled for to imply that I had insight into your character. I feel aw?—”

“Continue to put Neosporin on the sting site,” I interrupt before she says one more damn word about her feelings.

I’ve already done enough damage.

She blinks, then nods. “Will you allow me one more apology then?” When I don’t reply, she forges ahead. “Besides burrowing into your brain, I never should have pried you with questions about the loss of your wife and child. Please accept my deepest apology for stirring up difficult memories.”

“I’ll call the airline tonight.” If I ignore what she’s saying, I can pretend we’re not having such an intimate conversation. “As soon as I have more news on the strike, we’ll get you out of here. Until then, I’ll have Lars bring meals to your room.”

“Please don’t go to any trouble.” She hikes her bag up on her shoulder. “If you’ll allow me to access the restaurant kitchen again, I’ll make my own meals. I don’t want to bother Lars.”

I nod once, aching to end this discussion. Aching to take her in my arms and tell her I’m not upset about her psychoanalysis. I’m not even angry she asked about the photo.

I’m mad at myself for forgetting she’s a human with feelings. That actions have consequences, andmyactions—my selfish, libido-fueled actions—can destroy lives. It’s as simple as that.

“Help yourself to whatever you need,” I tell Camille. “I’ll text you as soon as there’s an update on your travel plans.”

Her throat rolls as she swallows. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I watch as she walks toward the Villa, bag slung over one shoulder as her red hair glows in the late-afternoon sun. There’s zero risk of anyone harassing her on the short walk to her room, but I glue my eyes to her back anyway. The lump in my throat makes it painful to swallow as she vanishes behind a palm tree.

Well. That’s done.

I kick myself all the way home, wishing I’d done things differently. So many things, not just today. I never should havelaid a hand on Camille in the boiler room. The sex swing was a mistake, too. So was today’s tropical excursion. What the fuck was I thinking, fulfilling items on her fantasy list, when she’s not even a guest at the resort? It was reckless and selfish and completely out of character for me.

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