Chapter Two

Amadeo

The woman seems to cower as she enters my office. It throws me off, since in all of our previous communications, she'd been nothing but grateful for my time, confident and sweet. I'd actually looked forward to our conversations before her ulterior motive came to light.

Zoe had come across as energetic, genuinely curious about me, my resorts, and life in general. One of those people that seemed to want to experience everything life had to offer. And she was humble despite her thriving social media presence.

I hadn't been interested in much the last few years, other than my business of course, but she'd been changing that as we'd started discussing a plethora of topics beyond work, topics that awoke excitement in me. We'd often discuss food, travel, science and history, and sometimes for over an hour at a time. Although we hadn't gotten too personal, I was starting to like her as more than a business acquaintance.

And that was a fucking miracle.

Ah, and then that shitty email with not-so-subtle threatening undertones, showed me she was just like all the rest.

She had the fucking nerve to demand I not only find rooms in my fully booked resort to accommodate her sister, her sister's fiancé, great-grandmother, and several other people, but also she'd expected the use of my wedding venue and coordinator. All with less than three weeks notice and she wanted it fully comped.

Or else the plans we'd been working on for the last four months might fall through.

"Have a seat, Ms. Wayz." My words are clear but they must carry a growl of annoyance, at least that's what I see in her expression.

The wedding event, and her social media coverage of it, will no doubt benefit the resort, but I don't like the way she does business. Weirdly, if she'd asked me nicely to try to accommodate her needs, I would have done it.

We'd been renovating a wing of the hotel so both a block of rooms and a small venue hall weren't booked. I would have simply moved up the remodeling plans for her. And that's what I ended up doing regardless, but I'd done it begrudgingly.

I'd been excited about working with her—as excited as a grumpy asshole like me can get anyway. But no, she chose to be a demanding diva like every other fucking woman I know who isn't an employee.

"Please call me Zoe. I'm so excited to finally meet you in person. I feel like I already know you."

I grunt in reply as she starts unloading her luggage, plopping into the chair across from me. I fold my hands, teepeeing them, wondering why the hell her luggage is all over my office.

"Should I have someone come get all this?" My lip curls at the haphazard pile and she starts apologizing. I hate fucking clutter. In fact, I hate anything that's messy and that includes disheveled, albeit, adorable, influencers blackmailing me for their personal gain.

So why the fuck am I sporting a semi right now?

I hold up a hand and Zoe Wayz stops rambling, her face flushing pink. I grab my cell, dialing the front desk.

"Can someone please get Ms. Wayz' luggage and have it brought to her room?"

My eyes shoot to the woman's as soon as Milo, my front desk clerk, tells me she doesn't have a room.

"What room are you in?" I ask, pulling the phone away from my mouth, further annoyed by the holdup. Maybe she uses a different name to remain anonymous.

Her shoulders slump and her eyes, which are a gorgeous mix of green, copper and blue, lower. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" I snap, ending the call abruptly. "You're staying here, yes? That's what we arranged months ago." Heat climbs the back of my neck. Is my resort suddenly not good enough for her?

"Amadeo—" She swallows, seeming to notice my seething look. "Sir, I?—"

I don't correct her and insist she call me Amedeo like she normally would, because fuck that. I want to see her squirm. No one blackmails me. No one. Not even the ever-popular, quirky, and adorable Zoe Wayz. And they certainly don't do it while staying at another resort.

"Sir."

I ignored it the first time but that word ‘sir' falling from her lips is affecting me. A particular part of me, anyway and it irritates me further. The way her eyes dip down in submission isn't fucking helping either. Sweet, intelligent, confident and submissive women, suddenly became my fucking kryptonite after our conversations turned regular.

"There's been a mix-up," she says, her eyes flicking up to mine, her confidence showing. It hits me again what a pretty hazel color they are. And they're framed by long, thick lashes that don't look fake, but probably are. As I assess her tanned, freckled face and pink bowed lips, I don't see a trace of makeup. Huh. Aren't influencers all about makeup and contouring their faces to look nothing like they actually do?

"A mix-up?" My brow arcs and I huff a humorless laugh. "We don't have mix-ups at The Pellegrino."

"Oh, no, it's not your mix-up." She glances at the pile of luggage before her eyes find mine again. "Do you mind maybe ignoring that and my room situation for a few minutes so we can chat?" She jabs a thumb over her shoulder at the pile and I press my lips.

Yes, I fucking mind. I mind so much, I'd like to take you across my knee and turn that ass of yours red.

"Fine," I say in a way that doesn't sound fine at all. Mostly because my thoughts went awry and now my cock is fucking hard beneath my desk. "But you've got some serious explaining to do."

Zoe smiles, and I don't know how, but the weight of my irritation is gone, as is the heaviness of my other non-Zoe concerns. And I'm having a very hard time equating the demanding email, as well as the demands themselves, with the woman sitting in front of me.

That fucking smile. I shake my head, leaning back in my chair. It reminds me of a simpler time, back when everything was brighter, more colorful and there wasn't a betrayal in sight. And how I'd started to feel before her bullshit email.

Before I know it, I'm fucking smiling back at her. And the only thing that feels heavy between us is my cock.

"Wow."

My smile falls. "Wow, what?"

She bobs her head, her caramel-colored curls bouncing. "Your smile…" She whistles, holding her hand flat in front of me. "Instantly relaxed me. And I was hella nervous just a second ago. Look, my hand's not even shaking now."

She drops it back to her lap. "I suddenly don't mind telling you this day has been brutal—like ex-fiancé showing up with my sister, brutal."

I narrow my eyes. "The same sister you had the hubris to demand I accommodate?"

I vaguely recall Zoe getting some big proposal on a suspension bridge in Canada, but nothing about a breakup. I'll have to look it up again. But is it possible they broke up and he's here to get her back? Is that the wedding her sister's planning? I'll have to check in with the coordinator.

"Yes. The. Very. Same." Her head bobs again, this time in an affirmative to my question. Normally such an action would irritate me, but on Zoe, it's charming as fuck.

Rubbing my palm across my mouth, I look her over. "You basically blackmailed me to have her here and now you're complaining about it?"

She bites her lip, looking unsure for a second. "It's a long story." Her voice cracks as she says it and fuck if I don't find that charming too.

I lean forward, drumming my finger on the desk as I examine her face for signs of manipulation. Which Zoe is real? The sweetheart or the demanding diva?

"It's the kind of story that makes me want to climb out that window." She points at my office window and my eyes follow. "And disappear for a while, ya know? Just take off, hike to some cliff and jump into the ocean. Forget everything."

"Hm." I'm so goddamn intrigued by this woman, her pile of luggage no longer irritates me. Okay it still aggravates me, just a little less than before. I still want to spank her though.

"Can I please apologize for the email, Mr. Pellegrino? It was never my intention to threaten you and I should never have asked you. I've never done anything like that before. I've never used my business for personal favors. That's why when I booked this trip, I fully paid for it myself."

Leaning back in my leather chair, I recall that she did pay for the original trip, which I was planning on returning, writing it off as a business expense since she was taking time out of the trip to walk me through her plans to feature my resort in a Caribbean Adventures series she's starting in the fall. But the threat in the email was definitely intentional and I kiboshed my plans. Now I'm wondering if she was drunk when she wrote it.

"Do you drink, Zoe?"

She laughs, and it's a very likable sound. Another check in the odd column since I normally find laughter in adults quite horrendous.

"No, but I'm suddenly considering taking it up."

Before I can reply with my disapproval or untangle the email/room situation, my assistant pops her head into my office.

"Mr. and Mrs. Frontenac are on their way from the airport, sir."

My recently elevated mood plummets, as does my dick. As I look at the curly-haired breath of fresh air, I suddenly have the urge to jump out the window behind her, or maybe in front of her.

"Julianna, can you please have Ms. Wayz' luggage brought to the Eden Villa? And email her the pass app for the door scanner as well."

"Sir?"

I glance at my assistant, my annoyance evident in her hard swallow.

"The Eden?" I understand her hesitation. We never have guests booked there while I'm on site since my own villa is next to it. And even when I'm off-site, it's rarely booked. It's one of those exclusive, ridiculously expensive villas that no one but the uber rich can afford.

"Yes." My reply is curt so she doesn't say any more, just nods and disappears as quickly as she appeared. I rise, agitated over Julianna's original announcement even though it was expected news.

"The Eden Villa?"

"It's one of our best villas, right on the water, with a glass floor, private mini pool, hot tub and a slide off the deck into the water. There's only a few of them. We usually reserve them for royalty, presidents, prime ministers… and special guests. The kind of special guest that could ruin my reputation with one scathing review."

She bites back a smile. "Thank you. I've already put you out so much … I don't want to push my luck." She rises then too.

My eyes cut to hers, my right brow arching. "We're beyond you pushing your luck, but let's put that aside for now."

She nods, her cheeks pink from my scolding.

"Instead, let's do exactly as you said," I say, shocking myself.

"Start drinking?" she asks, her voice rising an octave. I shake my head, giving her a half smile.

"Jump out the window?"

Nodding, I reply, "Let's take the door, but yeah, let's disappear, hike to the cliffs, and jump in."

Her smile is instantaneous, and she gives me that little head bob again.

"Adventure is my middle name, Mr. Pellegrino. And after the long flight, I'm desperate to move my body."

She does this little wiggle that makes my gut tighten, so I eye her rumpled skirt and sleeveless blouse in hopes it will douse the heat the move has induced. It doesn't. I'm fucking desperate to move her body too.

"You need to settle in, shower, change?" I ask, the words coming out a little huskier than I'd like.

She looks down at herself. "Nope. These are skorts." She pauses, looking at her sandaled feet and then walks over to her pile of stuff. Flinging her footwear off, she rustles through her bag, grabs a pair of thick-soled yellow water shoes, and pulls them on.

I blink. They make her feet look like rubber duckies. And oddly it doesn't turn me off.

"I'm good." She untucks the blouse, undoing the bottom button, and ties the tails in the front. The tiniest sliver of her tanned stomach shows, including her belly button, and I fight the urge to touch the smooth skin. Biting my tongue, I stop the thoughts from developing further in my head.

And then I chuckle, because I can't help it. She's nothing like I thought while reading that stupid email. This woman? The one standing at the ready for adventure? She matches the Zoe Wayz brand and the woman I've been talking to for months. Whomever wrote that email, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't her, is nothing like the woman in front of me.

"Okay. Well, I need five to get out of this suit. Meet in the lobby?"

"Is there a back door?" she asks, her lips twisting to the side. "Might help me avoid the ex and sister."

"Ah. yes. We definitely want to do that." I smile, especially since I'm avoiding some exes myself.

I give her directions to a private meeting spot from the back of the building and with one final glance at her sandals scattered near her pile of luggage, we part ways.