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I reach for it, taking a tentative sip. It’s sweet and fruity, with the barest bite of liquor under all the fruit and sugar. I have a feeling I’d have a hard time walking back to the villa if I drank more than one of these. “It’s really good.”
“I knew you’d like it.” He flashes me another of those perfect smiles. “I’m Blake. You on vacation?”
No, I’m on my honeymoon. Instead, I nod. “Gia,” I introduce myself, taking another sip of the drink. His gaze flicks over me again with clear appreciation, taking in my breasts in the bikini top, my small waist, the silk sarong clinging to my hips. But I can hardly blame him—I haven’t stopped looking at his abs since I walked up to the bar.
“That’s a pretty name. Your first time here?”
I nod again. “I haven’t really traveled much.” That’s a truth I can tell him without giving too much away.
“You picked a hell of a spot for your first time.” He drums his fingers against the wood of the bar again. “Have you been surfing yet?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know if I’m that adventurous.”
“I teach lessons three days a week. I’ll be out on the beach tomorrow. You should try coming out later at night, too. A lot of the bars go wild—live music, dancing…it’s a great time.” He has a keen interest in his gaze that tells me he’s thinking of doing those things with me. My heart leaps a little at the thought, if only just because of how pissed off it would make Salvatore. But that’s not exactly a risk I can take.
Not to mention, he won’t let me out of his sight once he gets back to the villa.
“I’m not here alone. I don’t know what plans there are for the evenings.” I don’t say that I’m with someone, exactly, and I’m not sure why I’m dancing around it. It’s not like it can change anything, or as if something could happen between Blake and me. But I have a feeling he might stop flirting if he knew I was married, and I like the feeling of being flirted with, of being wanted. I’m not ready for it to be over so soon.
I wrap my left hand into a fist in my lap, slipping off my ring. I don’t want him to see it. I know I can’t get away with anything, but this feels like getting back at Salvatore, just a little. A small victory.
I drop the ring into my tote. “Those surfing lessons sound like they could be fun, though.”
“You should come and find out.” That smile is still on his face, and I don’t really know much about men or flirting, but it looks genuine to me.
Genuine enough to get us both in trouble, if I were to let it go too far. But this is just flirting, and that can’t hurt anyone. Especially not when I feel sure that my husband is going to spend our marriage doing far more than just flirting with whoever catches his eye.
He didn’t say he intended to be unfaithful last night, but he also didn’t deny it. I saw the look in his eyes, the one that said he hadn’t considered whether or not celibacy was something he could commit to, if he was committed to not sleeping with me unless absolutely necessary.
Just the memory makes me grit my teeth. Salvatore acts like it’s a chore to take me to bed, like he’s defiling us both in some terrible way, and it feels good to be looked at differently. To see this sexy bartender eyeing me purely because he can, with no moral qualms about it or feelings of guilt that he likes what he sees.
Salvatore isn’t the man I chose, but if he’s insistent on being my husband, he should at least be able to do that.
I scan the menu to try and distract myself while sipping at the drink Blake made me, finally settling on sweet potato and corn tacos with a cream of coconut drizzle on them. When he offers me a second drink, I take him up on it, even though I know it’s probably not the best idea. But I don’t really care. I have no idea how many more days like this one I’ll be allowed, on my own with only my stealthy security for company, and I want to make the most of this one.
It feels like the closest thing to a really good day that I’ve had in a long time.
It’s not until I push Salvatore’s credit card across the bar to pay for my meal and drinks that I remember his name is on it. Blake’s going to figure out pretty quickly that I’m here with a man. And even though I don’t have any plans to do more than flirt, I feel a flicker of disappointment at the thought that I won’t be able to come back and have this feeling again.
But when he brings the card back, I don’t see any change in his expression. He pushes it and the receipt back towards me, that mischievous smile still on his face.
“You should think about checking out the surfing tomorrow. I’ll even give you one free lesson on the house.” He winks, and I feel a flutter in my chest.
This is a bad idea, and I know it. But I tell myself that a little flirtation never hurt anyone. That if Salvatore is so uninterested in treating me as his real wife, that it shouldn’t matter what else I do, so long as I don’t cross certain lines.
I know I’m rationalizing. But I return Blake’s smile, slipping the card back into my tote. “Maybe I’ll stop by.”
“I hope you do.” He looks at me for a moment longer, before grabbing the dishes and disappearing into the back room to the left of the bar.
I slide down from the barstool, feeling a little tipsy. It’s time to head back to the villa, and I take a moment to steady myself before I start to walk. I feel warm and slightly sunburnt despite all the sunscreen, full of good food, the taste of the sweet, tropical drink still lingering on my tongue and the feeling of it buzzing in my head. I feel a little like I’m floating, and I realize that I’m spontaneously smiling for the first time in days.
That is, until Vince appears seemingly out of nowhere at my elbow. “You might not realize it,” he says quietly, his voice pitched so that only he and I can hear what he’s saying. “But Salvatore is a dangerous man. He’s not one you want to cross.”
He falls back then, without another word, melting back into the stealthy obscurity that he and the rest of his men have maintained.
I know the warning for what it is. He saw me flirting with Blake, maybe even saw me take my ring off, and is letting me know that there could be consequences to my actions. It annoys me more than anything else—I know that already. Of course, I do.
It’s not as if I were planning to let anything happen between us, I think irritably as I walk back, fumbling in my tote bag for the ring to slip it back onto my finger. I’m just having a little fun. God forbid I get to have fun.
