Page 29 of Entangled Vow
I leaned closer, resting the side of my head against his bare shoulder while widening my smile.“It’s excellent PR,” I muttered through my teeth as the photographer’s camera clicked away.
The feature inMoney Magazineabout the crown prince of the hospitality world buying out one of America’s most respected brands was set to publish in next month’s issue, bumping another story aside in favor of getting the word out while the story was fresh.Clay’s press manager knew how to get things done.
“Just make sure we sell the fantasy, princess.”
If there was anywhere we could sell a fantasy, it was here, standing beside the pool at our Santa Barbara resort, the last stop on our three-week honeymoon.I could hardly believe it was almost over.That after this, we would head home and settle into… what?
“Is everything all right, Mrs.Manning?”The photographer peered at me from over the top of his camera.I didn’t realize my smile slipped until he mentioned it.
“It’s still Rinaldi,” I replied without thinking.
“Of course.Sorry.”He was probably used to people snapping or behaving badly, or so I wanted to tell myself to keep from feeling like a slug for my reaction.But he shouldn’t have made the assumption, either.
“Easy there,” Clay murmured, looking down at me.He was every inch the powerful mogul, the man on top of the world.The way he looked in a pair of swim trunks, he could have been doing a spread for a men’s health magazine.The spray-on sunscreen one of the photographer’s assistants had applied made his skin glisten, but the muscles were all him.No need to airbrush a six-pack.
“Terrific.”Lowering his camera, the photographer looked toward the lounge chairs nearby.“Now, just… you know, relax together.We want a few of you lounging around the pool.”
“This feels extremely disingenuous,” I whispered to Clay.Two executives lazing around the pool, looking like bored models in a perfume ad.This wasn’t our life.
“Remember.We’re selling the fantasy.”He was all too happy to walk down the steps leading into the pool.“This feels fantastic,” he announced, wearing a wide grin as he descended until the water was waist-high.
“I think I’ll sit over here,” I decided, perching at the edge of the pool and letting my legs dangle in the water once I pulled the caftan up around my knees.I wore a two-piece suit underneath but wasn’t trying to show off for the press the way my husband did.“I didn’t spend all that time getting my hair done just to get it wet.”
“That’s terrific,” the photographer announced, snapping one shot after another of Clay taking slow strokes through the water while I leaned on my palms, tipping my head back, letting the sun warm my face.I realized this was as close as we had come to relaxing throughout our entire trip.It wasn’t half bad, even if it came with a photographer.PR was not my job, not that I didn’t understand how important it was, but it wasn’t something I had ever spent much time on.I didn’t give interviews or pose for photos.That was Papa’s deal.I was the behind-the-scenes person.
Not anymore.
Marrying Clay meant a bunch of minor complications I had never considered.Like this.Selling the fantasy, as he put it.Giving the public a glimpse of our supposedly fabulous lives.
What would our so-called fabulous lives look like after this?When there wasn’t a fantasy to sell anymore?The funny thing was, if it hadn’t been for this trip, I would have been more than satisfied keeping to my part of the house, avoiding him when possible, and going on with my life.Everything was different now.We were still strangers in a lot of ways, but I knew him better than I had.And no matter how I tried, I couldn’t hate him the way I did at first.Nobody could’ve been more surprised by that than I was.
A sudden blast of cold water across my chest and face made me sit straight up, gasping.Clay was smirking as he started a slow backstroke away from me.“Whoops,” he called out.
“Get back over here,” I warned, kicking a wave of water in his direction.“Don’t you dare chicken out.”That was nowhere near what I wanted to say, but I had to keep it friendly in mixed company.
“Who says I’m chickening out?”There was something wicked in his smile.“Do you want to fight about it?Get in the water.”One of the photographer’s assistants giggled from across the pool.I ignored her.
“I already told you I don’t want to.”
“Too bad.I guess you’ll have to take it, then.”He splashed me again, harder this time, and I sputtered and kicked while the photographer snapped away, and both assistants chuckled.
“This is your last warning,” I gritted out through a smile.“You’re going to wish you hadn’t started this.”
“So far, all I’ve heard is a lot of words.”
He knew just what to say to wake up my competitive spirit.Once I hit the water, caftan, and blown-out hair and all, he found out I could only be pushed so far.
Afterward, while we laid out on lounge chairs after the photoshoot was finished, Clay snickered.“So you didn’t spend all of your time in the kitchen when you were visiting the properties.You did some swimming too.”
“Don’t be sore just because I almost drowned you,” I murmured, adjusting my sunglasses, soaking in the rays that dried my hair and my clothes.It had been too long since I had taken the time to do this.So what if it was barely ten in the morning, and I was already on my second mimosa?We didn’t have any meetings scheduled.This was the one day I was truly able to relax.
If only real relaxation was possible while both looking forward to getting home and dreading it.
“The spread will look great, anyway.”Clay stretched, throwing an arm over his head.“That’s exactly the kind of thing the public wants to see.The two of us looking normal, playing in the pool.”
“What about you?”I turned my head to look at him, and my heart forgot to beat for a second.It was damn unfair for a man to look that good like chiseled perfection.
“What do you mean?”he asked.
