It isn’t hard to convince myself that bringing her along is smart and will be beneficial for research purposes. She’s the perfect person to compare spa services between hotels. She’s also gorgeous, alluring, and charming. She’ll have the staff eating out of her hand.

While I meet with the hotel manager I send her off for a morning of pampering. We reconvene at lunch to discuss what she liked best between the two resorts with the spa and hotel managers. The ambiance is better at the other hotel, but the services are on par. She’s eloquent and intelligent as she reviews the spa menu and makes suggested tweaks.

If I weren’t sleeping with her I’d poach her for my team. She has an excellent mind for marketing and management. I doubt she’s being used to her full potential over at Moorehead. What makes her stand apart is that she not only sees the flaws in a plan, but she can then find a workable solution. And as predicted, every single person in the room, male and female, has fallen completely in love with her by the time we come up with what seems to be a viable strategy for minor renovations to the hotel spa and revamping the services offered, including makeup prep for evening events.

This gives me an idea for an entirely new spin on how the spa experiences are promoted. We have a significant market for on-site weddings, and we’ve been building on that for the past few years, but this could add another dimension, expanding the luxury beyond the spa and right into the comfort of guest suites.

After the meeting I show Amie around the grounds, and take her on a tour of the accommodations. We make good use of a honeymoon suite before having dinner with the managerial staff.

Being with her like this is dangerous, seeing her in her element, pulling her into my world, learning more about who she is beyond the kink in the bedroom and her smart mouth—but I don’t seem to be able to stop myself. And what’s more, I don’t want to. I get that she’s not in the right headspace for this to be more for the time being, but that doesn’t mean I can’t push for that later, once we’re back in the real world and things have settled down for her.

It’s late by the time we finish. I would suggest staying the night, but I have meetings in the morning and I’ll need a fresh suit, so we head back to the Mills Resort.

I send her off to the bungalow without me so I can pick up a few things from the concierge. I don’t want to wait for room service, and once we’re in her bungalow I intend to avoid disruptions. Except on my way back I receive a text from Amie telling me Armstrong is at the resort.

I should’ve expected this. He had to know I was bringing her to a sister hotel on the island, and eventually he’d make his way to her, because Armstrong doesn’t like to lose.

The dock is silent as I head to my bungalow and drop the bottle of champagne and basket of desserts inside the door, uncertain how to proceed. Amie hasn’t left additional messages, and I assume if she wants my help she’ll ask for it. I don’t want to make this situation any more difficult than it needs to be, but I also don’t want Armstrong filling her head with stories about me, or finding out what’s going on here, should he manipulate her into saying something.

There aren’t a lot of options. I open the sliding door and step outside, moving to the lower platform in case I can see or hear anything going on in her bungalow. From here I can just make out the edge of Amie’s dock. Through the window I see her pacing, arms flailing as Armstrong’s silhouette follows behind her. Their voices become clear when Amie throws open the sliding door.

“Why are we out here?” The waver in Armstrong’s voice is expected, considering how nervous water makes him.

“I need air,” Amie snaps.

“Amalie, you need to be reasonable. You’ve made your point. I’m sorry that you feel the need to degrade yourself like this—”

“Degrade myself?”

“By coming here with my cousin. It’s fine that you needed to get your anger out of your system. I understand your rebellion and I won’t ask questions, just come back to the resort with me.”

“You realize you’re not making any sense at all, right?”

“You can’t tell me that Lexington hasn’t filled your head with lies about me. I warned you about him once, Amalie. I shouldn’t have to do it again.” He waves a hand in the air. “What’s happened is irrelevant, as long as you come back with me. I’m sure you’ve received the messages from my mother. It doesn’t look good for you to be here without me.”

“What do messages from Gwendolyn have to do with anything?”

“She’s convinced my coming here will help make things right. It’ll look better.” Armstrong sighs, as if he’s annoyed.

“You can’t be serious. You’re here because your mother told you to come?”

“I’m here to show you I can be understanding about this. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get a passport on such short notice? I had to take a flight with a layover. And I had to sit in coach.”

“Oh poor you! Understanding? You cheated on me, at our fucking wedding, Armstrong. There’s nothing to be understanding about, and there is no together anymore.”

Armstrong makes a tsking sound.

“Don’t you dare make that goddamn fucking sound. I will use whatever fucking language I feel like. You don’t get to come here and shove your disapproval down my throat.”

He raises his hands in supplication. “I’m not here to fight with you, Amalie. You need to think about this, about the impact it’s going to have on you, on us. The media will tear you apart.”

“Me?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m not the one who got caught cheating at my own wedding.”

Armstrong takes a halting step toward her, but backs up again so he’s close to the door. “Darling, can we just go inside and talk about this?”

“Don’t darling me. If the media is going to tear anyone apart it’s you.”

Armstrong laughs, and it’s one I know well. It’s his leverage laugh. As if he has something on her. “Do you even know what the rumors are?”

Amie’s voice goes flat. “I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“Have you even checked in with your family since you ran away?” Silence stretches out for a few seconds, followed by Armstrong’s exaggerated sigh.

“Are you just here hiding then? Pretending none of this matters? As if it has no bearing on your family or mine? Were you aware that there’s speculation regarding the unfortunate event at the wedding? That people are saying it was a setup, that it was a recording of me with you.”

Amie’s voice is softer, lower now. “You have to be kidding me.”

“Oh, I’m quite serious. Imagine if it happened to get out that you’ve run off on our honeymoon and that you’re sleeping around on me because of a miscommunication? You think the media is critical of you now, just imagine how much worse it could get.”

“That’s not even logical, and you know it.”

“That’s the funny thing about the media, logic doesn’t necessarily apply, does it? This marriage is good for our families. We’ll both benefit. I’m good for your family’s social standing and you’re good for my bank account.”

“You’re making this about money and social status? Wow, there’s a real sales pitch for relationship longevity.” I can practically hear the grit in her teeth.