Page 6 of Give Me More
As if to solidify those words and cut off any further thought about the situation, his phone chimed from the nightstand where he’d plugged it into the charger last night.
“Yeah?” he answered gruffly and immediately, as if whoever was calling might somehow know that he’d been thinking about how to get his ex-girlfriend away from here.
“Mornin’, sunshine,” Maurice’s all-too-chipper voice sounded through the phone.
“Make it fast,” he told his jovial younger brother. “It’s barely seven.”
Maurice’s response was a hearty chuckle. “Hey, man, I get it. You and I aren’t the morning people in the family. But Riley is and she has this crazy itinerary we’re all supposed to be following.”
RJ closed his eyes, bringing his free hand up to squeeze the bridge of his nose. “Let me guess, your highly organized and punctual fiancée told you to call me. But we all know that I’m better at staying on schedule than you are.”
“Truth. However, we’ve never all been on vacation at the same time, so assuming the rules that apply in the city are now tossed out the window, I’m doing what my lovely Desta asked, and reminding you that we’re scheduled for lunch and a hike up the mountain at noon. This means we all need to meet at whatever destination is printed on the itinerary, which you also have as an email attachment, at eleven thirty.”
This was insane, or cruel, or whatever the word was for something he couldn’t believe he was involved in. His mother had mandated this a vacation and yet he still felt like he was on the clock. His life was normally dictated by his Outlook calendar, which was carefully coordinated with his assistant and linked to the company executives’ schedules. He’d planned to do work while he was here anyway; he just didn’t like that work being traded for social outings he was sure he could do without.
“I’ll be there,” RJ grumbled, because what else was he going to say.
“Cool. Don’t be late,” Maurice joked before disconnecting the call.
RJ frowned, but his irritation quickly dissipated as he put his phone back on the nightstand. He loved hearing his brother sound so relaxed and happy. Even though Maurice had always been the jokester of the siblings—certainly more outgoing than his twin, Major—he’d had a traumatic experience during his early college years and had only recently moved past the guilt it had left with him. Part of that moving on had come from Desta, who’d worked for their family for years but had just claimed Maurice’s heart a little over six months ago.
And just like that his mind went back to couples, love, happiness. All things he’d reached for at one time but had lost just the same. Tossing the sheets to the side, he eased his naked body out of the bed and went directly to the bathroom to shower, shave, brush his teeth and otherwise get his mind right for the task to come.
An hour later, after he’d dressed and checked his emails, RJ was once again walking around the resort. His conversation with Grace last night hadn’t led to her telling him what room she was in and while he could’ve easily asked registration, he felt that was walking a very thin line toward creepy. Instead, he went back to the spot he’d found her last night. Her room had to be close, considering her story about her vibrator falling off the balcony. He hadn’t even let himself think about how or why that could’ve possibly happened.
RJ walked behind the same building again. This time, in daylight—and without the distraction of his ex and her infamous sex toy—he noticed the expansive pool area cluttered with lounge chairs on one side and cabanas on the other. There was a bar and light island music playing. As he walked toward the bar with the singular focus of grabbing a drink, regardless of what time it was, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He didn’t reach for it but kept walking because he’d just spotted the only person he’d let distract him right now.
Grace was sitting at the bar. Veronica King had been seated beside her but was just slipping off her stool. Veronica smiled at Grace, said something and walked away. RJ gritted his teeth but didn’t speed up toward her. He didn’t want to speak to Grace with Veronica close by. What he needed to say was private.
“We need to talk.” He leaned over to whisper in Grace’s ear the moment he was close enough. “Now.”
She hesitated only briefly before picking up the tablet sitting on the bar and dropping it into the large blue plaid tote bag hanging on her stool. He waited while she eased off the seat with much slower movements than Veronica.
Even though RJ had seen her from a distance and had chosen to come up close behind her, he hadn’t been prepared to come face-to-face with her again. When she turned, the air was knocked from his lungs as he stared at her once again.
Her hair was styled differently today, pulled up into a messy bun, leaving her neck and shoulders bare. She wore a strapless high-low dress with a black-and-white paisley print. Bangles circled her left wrist, and long silver earrings in an abstract geometric shape dangled from her ears. There was nothing spectacular about her wardrobe choice or the light makeup she wore. In his business he was accustomed to seeing women dressed more fashionably or sexy. He was certain Grace’s goal wasn’t to attain that look—it never had been. And yet she’d always been the best-looking woman in the room—or, in this case, at the pool—without a doubt.
“Well, good morning to you, too, RJ.” Her tone was easy, the smile that followed cordial as she slipped the straps of the tote onto her shoulder. “Shall we take this discussion someplace a little quieter?”
“Gladly,” he replied tersely before reaching out to touch her elbow.
To anyone looking at them the action seemed normal, probably inconsequential, but he’d seen the quick flash of light in her eyes and the way her easy smile had faltered just a bit. He had his own reaction to touching her again, a fierce punch of lust that almost had him gasping, but for a quick clearing of his throat. She didn’t pull away but fell into step beside him as he began walking them toward the private cabanas. There were six of them lined in a row about twenty feet from the bar. A second row stood at the other end of the pool. He directed them to the center one, then untied the sashes at each of the four corners. The beige-and-white curtains fell around them, enclosing them in the space. They were completely blocked from view.
“I want you off this island,” he said.
“Well, tell me how you really feel.” Her derisive reply came as he turned to face her.
She dropped her bag onto the light gray cushion of the sectional sofa and stood with one hand on her hip, a prickly expression on her face.
“I told you last night,” he snapped, and moved across the spacious area. If he were here under different circumstances, he’d certainly compliment the resort on the calming color scheme that traveled from the draping fabric that surrounded them to the sofa and the rug beneath their feet. Exquisitely designed lanterns were on each of the three glass-topped tables, while a matching one hung from the ceiling. An ice bucket and complementary water bottles—still and sparkling—sat in the center of a longer table, and a television was mounted to the thick column above it.
“You need to leave and drop this story, Grace. I’m giving you a chance to do it on your own before I make the call to your newspaper and have it pulled.”
Her one hand fisted at her side. “You wouldn’t dare,” she said through gritted teeth, but the look in her eyes said she knew he would.
“Whatever it takes to protect my family,” he replied. “You know that’s how I roll.”
“I know you’re being unnecessarily unrelenting in this matter.” She sighed, dropping her hand from her hip. “You know me, RJ. I know you and your family. I would never intentionally harm any of you.”
