Chapter 34 Jade

34 JADE

NOW

“I’m off to the gym,” Rob says, rising from his sun lounger. We’re on the east side of the island, where the Emerald Island Resort sits in the near distance. The lagoon is like turquoise silk this afternoon, though the resort is quiet today. I think a lot of people went on some of the excursions—the kayak trip and the manta ray adventure. I’m relieved that we didn’t bump into Antoni again. It gives me the ick, men creeping on me. And I scared myself a little, looking at the razor. I feel like I’m on the edge of something. Like I could snap at any moment.

Sex has calmed Rob down, but I know he could flare up again at the slightest thing. He turns and grins at me, flexing his biceps. He looks like a Greek god, his shoulders broad and his arms defined and tanned. He used to neglect his legs, but now they’re sculpted from all the running, thick muscles from his knees to his hips, his calves ropy with veins.

He sees the blank expression on my face, and his eyes soften. “Jade?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s wrong, babe?”

The tone of his voice is so tender, so like the old Rob, that my skin prickles. He steps forward and takes my hand. “You looked so sad for a moment.”

I feel confused. Is he joking? I want to ask, Have you forgotten that you pulled my hair yesterday? That you called me a whore for speaking to another man? But instead I smile like I’ve just remembered I’m a millionaire and say, “It’s nothing.”

He grins, the softness in his eyes quickly vanishing. “Get some dinner. I want you in bed, naked, when I get back.”

I watch him pad along the deck toward our villa to get changed before he heads to the gym. His training will take three hours. I saw the look on his face before. I have to do this. I have to obey.

And I have less than three hours to work out a form of contraception. A form that Rob won’t discover.

I head to the island shop, trying not to look too suspicious as I browse the pharmacy aisle. They have condoms in all sizes and flavors, a few sex toys, but no caps or diaphragms. I’m concentrating so hard on all the different packages on display that I don’t notice the sales assistant approach to pluck something from the shelf.

I watch her as she walks back to the front of the shop. She’s an older woman, my mum’s age, with an Australian accent.

I wait until the other customers have gone before approaching her.

“Excuse me,” I say. “I don’t suppose it’s possible to get… the morning-after pill?”

I whisper it, and she pauses. “We don’t have it in store,” she says. “But I can see about ordering it in? It might take a couple of days.”

I nod, eager, though the time frame isn’t ideal.

“Can I take your name?” she asks, pulling out a notebook and pen from the back of the till.

My face falls. “Why?”

“We’d have to ask a pharmacist to prescribe it,” she says.

“Oh,” I say, backing away. She calls after me, but I’m already walking off, making feeble excuses, my heart racing.

I can’t risk Rob finding out. I need to find another way.