Chapter Five

Zoe

When I wake up from my glorious nap and climb into the hot spray of the villa's paradise-worthy waterfall shower, I feel good. No, I feel amazing.

I'm a twenty-eight-year-old woman who has ‘experiences' for a living and what's more worthy of the ‘experience' title than what Amadeo and I just did? Especially since it's been a secret fantasy of mine since I knew what sex was.

Toweling off, I squeeze my curls dry and lotion my entire body until I smell like the lovechild of a coconut and a pineapple. My two favorite scents. The lotion has SPF fifty because while I don't burn, I freckle and I already have enough freckles to make a leopard jealous, thank you very much.

A touch of peach lip gloss is all I need before I walk out the door in an apricot sundress and strappy sandals. It's time I head to the lobby and book myself some experiences at this amazing place and then I think I'll go for dinner.

Finding my phone on the occasional table by the door, I smile and put it in the pocket of my dress.

I need to try the world-class, five-star restaurant Tropico. Adding restaurants will round out my experiences. I want to reach a wider audience and a lot of people would rather have a mouth adventure than a … My mind wanders with that and I remember the feel of Amadeo's cock. I wish I had been a little bolder and had a mouth adventure of the sexual kind.

Caught up in my mind, I smash into Mark. He steadies me by placing both hands on my bare shoulders. I immediately step back.

"Sorry," I mumble. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

"I'm glad I found you."

"Found me?" Was he looking for me?

"There's something I need to tell you." He looks guilty, really guilty. My gut drops.

"Fiona moved?—"

"Zoe, there you are!" My sister walks around the corner into the lobby. "I was going to wait to tell you this, but Gran-Gran switched her flight and is getting in?—"

"Girls!"

My head snaps in the direction of my great grandmother's voice.

"You invited Gran-Gran on your hijacked honeymoon?" My sister bites her lip when three of her best friends get out of a limo behind my great grandmother.

I curse in shock and eye Mark. He shrugs. Looking at my sister's face, bright with excitement, I clear my throat.

"Does somebody want to fill me in?"

My sister rushes to our family's matriarch and hooks her arm into Great Granny's elbow. Both Gran-Gran and Fiona's best friend fuss over her and then the final two people climb out of the car.

"You aren't married," I say hollowly, watching Pastor Miccah assist his wife out of the car. My head swings to Mark. "You moved the wedding here." I grit my teeth.

"She wanted you to be a part of it, and when you left on this trip early, she decided…"

I stop listening to him, remembering my conversation with Amadeo. No wonder he was pissed.

Panic starts to build. Blackmailing him for a room is one thing, but for several rooms, and a wedding?

I bend at the waist, holding my forehead. Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh god. This is a fucking disaster.

"Zoe, I had to. I love you and miss you so much. We haven't talked in ages. I want us back." That's what my sister says as she walks up with everyone around her.

My gaze cuts to hers and I deadpan her, my panic forgotten momentarily. "And you thought the best way to do it was to ruin my business?"

"Ruin her business?" Gran-Gran asks, stepping forward to put her arm around my shoulder. "No matter what's going on, I'm glad to see you." She's taller than me by a half a foot so she presses a kiss to the curls on my head. "But I'm getting to the bottom of this," she adds, giving my sister a stern look.

Wrapping my arm around my great-grandmother's waist, I give her a squeeze while another thought hits. Why the hell would Amadeo even talk to me, let alone give me the best sexual experience of my life?

As if my thought was some sort of mating call, Amadeo walks into the lobby, his confident gait giving me weak knees. I watch him, my pussy throbbing with the memory of what we'd just done, momentarily forgetting that my fucking pastor and his wife are standing next to me.

My heart picks up speed as he talks to the man at the front desk. He's got a surfer's body, lithe with well worked natural muscle and a posture only self-assurance can provide.

When he glances my way, Great Granny Agnes whistles quietly into my ear.

"That's one hell of a handsome man."

I give her the side-eye and swallow hard. "He is."

She spins, turning me to look at her. Eying me up and down she nods in some sort of approval.

"He's eyeing you hungrily, like ripe fruit on a barren island." Her loving gaze hits me in the chest as she brushes a thumb over the apple of my cheek. "And you're glowing." Her lips curl up on one side as she looks back and forth between us. Her whole face wrinkles up, even her shoulders rise, like a full upper body wink and she beams at me. "I approve, but I hope you used protection."

"Gran-Gran," I scold in a hushed tone, shooting nervous glances at the pastor, who is now helping his wife with her luggage. She giggles like a teen girl and I bite my lip. I adore this woman.

"Was he good?" Her wrinkled hands rise up in surrender before I can protest. "Nevermind. I don't want to hear it here in the lobby. I want proper details. Just you and me."

I smile at that and then nod, suddenly wanting to tell her everything shamelessly.

"Always thought you could do better," she whispers conspiratorially, her eyes darting to Mark. Mark's watching me, and it makes me wonder if he overheard.

I suddenly need to apologize to Amadeo, or maybe it's an excuse to be closer to him. I don't know. But I stride over to him with way more confidence than I feel.

"Amadeo?"

He glances up from the tablet in his hands. His eyes are like blue fire on mine for a second before they move past me to the group in the middle of his otherwise quiet lobby.

The corner of his mouth tightens but I'm unsure if it's in disapproval or amusement. Remembering what he'd said about my luggage in his office, it's probably the latter, considering there's a large pile of stuff scattered around my sister's freshly arrived group.

"Zoe," he replies in his smooth tone. The tone he specifically used only hours ago to demand I strip down and bare myself for him. Thankfully his attention drops back to his task at hand so he doesn't see my expression as my pussy clenches for him.

With a shiver, I straighten and speak up. "Can we talk?"

His eyes flick back up to mine. They're stern, but tropical in temperature. "Not now." He slides his lip through his teeth and glances behind me.

"I really need to talk to you, apologize again." My brow furrows as his stare drops dramatically in temperature. It's plummeting to Antarctic climates, actually. I turn and see Mark striding this way, his face set in firm determination.

I cock my head. Was there just a testosterone tsunami?

"No, you don't." His eyes are back on mine, my belly aflutter.

"I don't?"

"You feeling guilty?"

"Yes."

His eyes tighten slightly. "About this afternoon?"

"God, no." I jab a thumb over my shoulder at the group and he chuckles so quietly I'm not sure if he actually did it at all. "I…I don't even know what to say. I don't know how this happened."

Now his brow-furrow deepens to a concerned level, so I lower my face, but he tips it back up with a finger.

"What's done is done. An apology won't change anything…" He stops speaking, his face paling at something to our right.

It's a couple holding hands. The woman is heavily pregnant, but absolutely stunning in a red form-fitting dress, her blonde hair cascading in beautiful waves down her back.

When I look back at him, his face is a mask of indifference, but I know better.

"Who's that?"

"No one. And I'm extremely busy." His tone is laced with impatience.

Disappointment twists inside me, but I smile anyway. "Of course. I understand. I'll see you around." When I turn to walk away, he grabs my arm.

"Zoe, wait. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be short with you. I'll find you later, okay?"

His eyes, so stunning, hold apology so I give him a small smile and nod.

Mark reaches us, and glances between us, his expression darkening. "Zo, we're all going to meet for drinks at the pool bar in twenty minutes and Gran-Gran asked if you'd help her get settled into her room."

I nod, hating that he calls my great-grandmother by our familiar nickname almost as much as I hate that he interrupted the final second of my conversation with Amadeo. Waving at Amadeo, I follow Mark, but not before I catch his tight expression. I'm just not sure who he's aiming it at, me or my ex.

"I don't like the way that guy looks at you," Mark says, making my gut burn.

Huffing, I speed up. "The way that guy looks at me is none of your business, Mark."

"Of course it is." He picks up his pace to follow me. "You're my sister-in-law. And I'm the man of the family. It's my job to?—"

I stop, whipping around to glare at him. "Ever wonder why there are no men in our family?" I don't finish my sentence. Instead, I just leave it hanging like a threat in the air and make a beeline for my great-grandmother.

"What was that about?" Gran-Gran asks, as we follow the bellboy to his limo-style golf cart.

"Nothing. Mark's a tool, that's all," I say, grabbing my great-grandmother's handbag so she can climb into the cart.

"Oh, I know that. I was asking about the fireworks before that."

I flick her a quick smile as I climb in next to her.

When I've finished helping Gran-Gran put away her stuff, she tugs me to sit onto the bed next to her.

"I know you didn't know about this. And if I'd known that before we'd gotten here, I wouldn't have come. I hate that your sister did this to you, but what I hate even more is that she expects you to be happy for her and celebrate like you're not in mourning."

"Mourning? I'm not mourning Mark, Gran-Gran." I roll my eyes.

"You're mourning the life you expected. The fantasy of who you thought Mark was, and who you were going to be together. It was a short stop and sudden drop, finding out that everything you thought your relationship was, wasn't real. You need time to wrap your head around that and figure out who you are now without him and with or without your sister."

I lean into my great-grandmother who is sturdier than her family title would suggest. "You're right and this is supposed to be my fresh start to figure all that out." I shake my head. "This was mine. Probably more than Mark ever was."

She pats my knee. "This is just a hiccup, every great life has them. Your sister has always been about the attention. And that's never going to change. I'll play defense though. Whatever you need so you can enjoy this vacation." With a squeeze to my knee, she adds, "And I won't let her cunt-block you either."

I choke on my own saliva and the ninety-year-old pounds on my back.

"Gran-Gran!"

She gives me her signature smirk, mirth dancing in her eyes.

"Go do something fun. I'm going to tell Fiona that you made plans and can't break them, and remind her she blindsided you with this wedding. Among other things." Rising, her knees pop. "And that if you want nothing to do with the nuptials, I support you and she should too." Gran-Gran heads to her carry-on bag and plucks a bright pink bikini out. "Off you go now. I have to get dressed for the poolside bar."

"You're going in a string bikini?" I smirk and admire the twinkle in her eye.

"It's still early enough for a swim. And I've noticed a lot of stuffy old people around here. Someone needs to stir things up."

"You're just the woman for the job, too."

As I pass by the pool bar on my way back to the lobby, I see everyone around a table under a large umbrella. They're laughing, sipping cocktails, snacking on appetizers and in general, enjoying the gorgeous late afternoon. I feel a stab of disappointment as I watch them. I should be able to enjoy this too. Being part of my sister getting married is just another thing that was stolen from me.

Ignoring the way my stomach feels—as if someone poured cement into it—I head to the front desk.

"How can I help you, Miss Wayz?"

For a moment I'm stunned the man knows my name, but then I remember that I'm at a very exclusive resort and he probably knows every guest's name.

My eyes breeze across his name tag before I answer. "I'd like to book some excursions, Milo."

"Very good, Miss Wayz." He reaches under the counter and pulls out a leather binder. "This is where we keep all the brochures with excursion details." He hands me the binder. "Go through it at your leisure, I have several more. And when you decide, bring it back here and I'll book you in."

Opening the binder, I ask, "Anything more adventurous than snorkeling in here?"

"There is. But if you don't find anything up to your expectations…" He reaches into his jacket pocket pulling out a card. "This is a good friend of mine. His tour company has some wilder, Zoe Wayz options. They'll be on his website." He nods. "And yes, I'm a big fan, Miss Wayz."

Smiling, I take the card, eyeing the website. "Thanks. Milo? One other thing?"

"Of course."

"If anyone asks for my room number, can you keep it private?"

"It's resort policy."

"Even if it's family making the request?"

His smile changes from high-end resort manager to friend. "Especially if it's family."

I laugh and he winks at me.

"I will make a note in your file as well though." He taps away at his computer then looks up. "Would you like me to add that you don't wish to be disturbed with phone calls either?"

I give him a bright smile. "Yes, I'd like that very much."

"We'll take messages. You can call the desk to retrieve them or pop by and request them. Does that suit?"

I nod. "Perfect. Thank you." Tucking the binder under my arm, I wander to the bar and order a pin? colada. And finding a comfy chair in the corner of the lobby, I go through the excursions.

When my glass is empty, I notice Milo talking to someone and pointing at me. A few minutes later, a waiter arrives with another pin? colada.

"Mm, thank you."

After looking through all the brochures, I start exploring, taking photos of the resort with my iPhone, but every time I go somewhere photo-worthy, Mark and Fiona are nearby. I see them at the beach, on the boardwalk by the lagoon, and sitting near the mermaid water fountain. It's like they're following me, except with their faces pressed against each other every two seconds, they're clearly not capable.

I snap when my final photo is ruined as they accidentally enter the shot and kiss just as I take it. I growl and storm off, not caring that they heard.

Sitting on the bench where I met Amadeo this morning for our adventure, I look at the shot.

It's a great picture. The sun is behind them, the resort name in white concrete letters is on the grass in the foreground, and the ocean is in the background, and all of it is framed by beautiful palm trees.

"Ugh, I can't use this." I stare down at the picture, the way they're holding each other, there's no denying they're in love.

My followers are hungry for news on my romance and wedding. Mark agreed to keep our split a secret so I don't have to deal with the onslaught of emails until I'm ready, but I actually still get tons anyway. Followers are asking about Mark and why he hasn't been on any of my adventures lately. And when I click the hashtags associated with my name, I see that rumors have been flying.

Staring at the fantastic picture, I consider posting it. Since Fiona and I are twins no one would be able to tell the difference.

Except me. I would.

And despite Mark calling me a fake, I haven't faked anything since the beginning, when this was all just a school project. And I hadn't even called him on his fake engagement ring, which I only discovered was fake when I had to get it appraised for insurance.

The thought of coming clean about our relationship ending makes me angsty. And this fresh start suddenly feels harder than I expected.

Glancing at the posted ‘no trespassing' sign I think of this morning and the ease of being with Amadeo. I bet a picture of the setting sun from up there would make an epic shot.

The sunset over the water from a cliff would be the perfect picture to announce the end—no, the beginning of my next adventures sans my dipshit ex. Freshly single, Zoe Wayz' new adventures starts now. No more pouting over exes and betrayals.

Laughter makes me look over and sure enough, as if I'd summoned them, Mark and Fiona are there. Even though no one is supposed to be back here.

Setting the excursion binder, and my empty glass, down on the bench, I rise. I'm getting my damn picture. I'm getting my damn fresh start.

Passing the sign and the large palm fronds, I hit the base of the incline. Looking down at my heeled sandals I growl. Yanking them off, I drop them by the path.

The climb is harder than before. Maybe it's the bugs that are out in swarms now that the sun is low, or that I'm barefoot in a sundress, or hell, maybe it's the two pin? coladas. Whatever it is, I'm covered in itchy bites and my feet feel shredded by the time I reach the top.

Holy shit, though. It's worth it. My followers are going to eat up this view. Amadeo won't be able to keep up with reservations from this shot alone.

And despite this resort's popularity, it's a snooze-fest full of old money with no one doing anything more than pool lounging and sunning on the beach right now. It's a damn shame too, because the natural wonders around here are an adventurer's dream, but when I post this...

I take several shots before I sit down on the rocky outcropping to enjoy the sight of the sun slipping into the sea. As I do, my mind wanders to Amadeo and how we dove off the cliff this morning. My pussy has been wet all day because of him. Easy enough to ignore when I'm busy but now as I sit here, it clenches in need. Why is it you can go without sex for ages and never think of it, but when you get it, you're suddenly an addict?

Zoe Wayz, jonesing for cock.

And I don't even know if he's even interested in a round two. It's not like we discussed it. Hell, it just happened.

Rising, I decide now's the time to find out. And if he's not going to get me off, I need to see about getting myself off, because… New Zoe is a doer not a thinker.

I turn around.

The overgrown path is pitch-black. Looking behind me again, I see that it's still somewhat light but only because the sun is sitting on top of the sea. It's no longer high enough to filter through the brush.

I look down at my phone to turn the flashlight on and notice the red battery icon. Five percent left. Damn.

I could just jump. It's still light enough to do that and get to shore. I take a few steps and look over. It looks higher than it did earlier. And don't sharks hunt at dusk? I shiver.

Text someone? But who? Not my sister or Mark, that's for sure. And I don't want to worry Gran- Gran.

Scrolling through my texts, I see his name.

Amadeo Pellegrino.