Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 97525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
He whispered in the quiet room. "I love you."
I love you too. I kept my body still, my breath even, the words only in my mind. I waited for him to fall asleep and tried not to think about the ring in his suitcase.
Chapter 62
The next morning, I stayed in bed. The room was full of light when Brant's lips brushed the back of my neck.
"Come on, baby." His voice was sweet against my skin. "Big plans for today."
I curled my knees to my chest and thought of the ring box. Big Plans. Talk about terrifying. I pulled the blanket tighter and let out a groan.
"What's wrong?" His hand softly brushed across the top of my head, smoothing down my hair. It was probably the same hand that had slid up that woman's leg. The one that had caressed her thigh like he wanted to fuck her.
"I don't feel well." It was half true. I wanted to vomit at the thought of what he had done last night. If he hadn’t come to—would he have left with her? Or invited her up to his—our—room?
"Really?" His voice held concern, but also disappointment. What were his plans for that ring? A beachside proposal? When? Today? Tonight? Yesterday, I was ecstatic at the idea. Now, I wondered if I could sneak away and catch a flight home before he caught wind of it.
"Call the front desk. See if they have a nurse or doctor on staff." I didn't lift my head, and the pillow muffled the words, but I was certain he could understand them.
"A nurse? You're that bad?" He gently touched my forehead, but fever wasn't a symptom of heartbreak.
"Hurry," I whispered. There was the rustle of sheets and the bed lightened as he moved to the desk that was set against the wall. He picked up the phone and pressed a button, then spoke with hushed words that I couldn’t hear.
"Someone will be here in a few minutes. What can I get you? Water? Aspirin?" He was moving into problem-solving mode, and maybe feigning an illness was a bad idea. Then again, at least he wasn’t dropping to one knee.
I groaned in response and pulled the blanket tighter.
I’ll give the expensive resort credit. Within a few minutes, there was a polite knock on our door, and two nurses and our butler arrived. They swept into the bedroom, all efficiency and concern, and beelined for my side. Gingerly propping myself up, I grimaced in faux pain and asked Brant to give me some privacy with the nurses.
As soon as the door closed, I quickly whipped away the blanket and stood up, pressing one finger to my lips. I moved to the closet and opened my suitcase, unzipping one of the interior pockets and withdrawing six crisp hundred-dollar bills from the cash that I'd tucked inside. I handed each of them three hundred dollars and whispered a quick explanation of my needs.
A few minutes later, they opened the bedroom door, their faces grave, and informed Brant and our butler that I needed to return home immediately. From my spot back in the bed, I heard the butler offer to arrange transportation. Brant accepted, more tips changed hands, the duo of nurses getting double-compensated, then they left. The butler started the business of packing our items while Brant knelt at the side of my bed, his face at eye-level, his hand gripping mine. I winced for good measure and tightened the curl of my body.
"I'm so sorry, love. I wish there was something I could do."
I closed my eyes, hoping he would stop. Surely the butler needed help with packing, or the plane needed to be paid for—something that could pull him away from me.
"I love you so much. If anything happens to you..." There was a break in his voice, a desperation that filled me with guilt.
I opened my eyes and saw him patting his pockets, then looking around wildly. Oh no. I pulled on his hand, drawing his attention to me. "I just want to sleep right now," I mumbled. "The nurses gave me something for the pain..."
I closed my eyes and let my hand slacken in his grip, feigning sleep. His palm shifted in mine, slipping away as he stood. His lips pressed against my forehead and then he was moving away.
The return trip was made by private jet, with no lines for security, no baggage claim. The hotel’s limo pulled into the private airport, and we were airborne fifteen minutes later. The flight attendant offered me a tan leather couch that was made up with pillows and a blanket, and I laid on my side. Brant sat at the end and pulled off my ballet flats and set my feet in his lap, his hands gentle as they rubbed my soles.