He opens his mouth to say something and I cut him off.
“I’m not even joking, Jameson. Do not piss me off,” I whisper angrily. “I am sick to death of living with a fucking stress head so if you can’t come here and try to relax for me, then why are we even married? What is the fucking point?”
He narrows his eyes and glares at me.
I get out of the car in a huff, I am going in and if he doesn’t stay here with me it’s going to be World War Three.
Prepare yourself, fucker.
The driver pops the trunk and gets out to help me with the bags. “Just the one?” he asks.
“Both bags,” I snap.
If he isn’t staying then he’s not getting his things either, screw him.
Thankfully I’m smarter than him.
I knew he would do this so in a premeditated attack I snuck the credit cards out of his wallet while we were on the plane. He has to stay, whether he likes it or not.
Even if he leaves now, he has to come back later.
I begin to roll the two large suitcases down the driveway and I can feel him watching me from the car.
Is he coming?
I get to the grand front steps and two doormen run out to meet me. “Hello, hello.” They smile as they grab my suitcases from me. “Let me take those.”
“Thank you.” I smile as I glance back at the car and see Jameson’s scowling face through the car window.
I can’t fucking believe him.
I walk to the front reception desk. “Hello, welcome. Can I help you?” The receptionist smiles.
“Yes.” I smile awkwardly as I slide over my credit card. “I’m checking in today. The name is Emily Miles.”
I glance over my shoulder to see the car I arrived in has gone.
He left?
I begin to hear my angry heartbeat in my ears, I went to so much trouble and begged them to fit us in because they were booked out and then I had to keep it a secret and the whole rigmarole and he fucking left without even looking at the place. Typical pigheaded Jameson Miles.
This means war.
The kind receptionist types into her computer as I wait in silence.
Where’s he going to go? He has no money. Then I remember who he is.
Who am I kidding? He could talk his way into any five-star resort, they probably have a poster of his face in their staff rooms.
Boom, boom, boom…my angry heartbeat sounds in my ears.
“I have you in the deluxe penthouse for the entirety of your stay.”
I force a smile. “Thank you, that sounds wonderful.”
“You’ll be shown to your room and then your master will come and collect you and give you the tour.”
I frown, confused. “Okay?”
“Master?” Jameson says flatly from behind me. “Master of what?”
I jump, startled by his voice, and turn back toward him and relief fills me.
You’re so lucky.
“Don’t talk to me,” he mouths, he steps to the desk in front of me as he attempts to take over. “How long is the booking for?”
“Twenty-one days.”
“Twenty-one…” He rolls his fingers on the desk as he gives me the side eye. “Yeah, that’s not happening. We will be checking out tomorrow, thank you.”
She smiles up at him and then at me as if hearing this conversation many times before.
“Bjorn. Can you show Mr. and Mrs. Miles to their suite, please?”
“Sure.” A big burly blond man wearing all white comes over. “This way, please.” He takes off in front of us and I go to grab Jameson’s hand and he flicks me away. “Don’t touch me.”
“Your room is through the garden of tranquility,” Bjorn says in a monotone voice. “We must give thanks as we walk through and into the next stage of your life.”
Jameson rolls his eyes. “Fuck me,” he mouths.
I bite my lip to hide my smile.
We follow him out through the double doors and through the most beautiful garden, I have to admit, it really is very tranquil.
Perfectly manicured lush green lawns and perfect gardens. There’s a huge water feature in the middle with a waterfall coming out of it down to a lower-level garden where lilies are floating. Bjorn stops in front of it, closes his eyes and bows with his hands in a praying gesture.
Jameson grabs his dick and I put my face into my hands.
Oh my god.
“Come, join me, give thanks,” Bjorn says.
“Okay.” I put my hands in a praying gesture like his and try to copy what he’s doing.
Jeez, this really is over the top.
Maybe Jameson is right and this is going to be one giant clusterfuck.
“Where is my room?” Jameson snaps impatiently from behind us.
Bjorn looks Jameson square in the eye and smiles calmly, so calmly that it’s kind of eerie. “This way.” He walks in front of us.
Jameson taps his temple. “He’s fucking tapped,” he mouths. “Probably a serial killer.”
I’m beginning to wonder.
We follow him through gardens and down winding paths and over a bridge and my god, this property really is magical.
We finally get to a beautiful cabana overlooking the sea. “This is your new home for the foreseeable future.”
“Wow,” I gush, I turn to see that even Jameson is a little impressed.
Bjorn opens the front door and we are hit in the face with a stark simplicity. All white furnishings, walls, ceilings and floors.
We walk in and look around. “It’s…beautiful.” I smile. “Wow.”
Bjorn points to two large baskets. “First thing you need to do is to wash off the world.”
“Wash off the what?” Jameson frowns.
“Shower using the salt scrub in the pots, rub it into your skin as a cleanse. Wash each other, enjoy the experience.”
Jameson’s stone-cold eyes stare at Bjorn.
“Put all of your possessions into these baskets.” He taps the basket and then hands us white outfits that look similar to scrubs. “These are the clothes that you will adorn while here. There are no personal possessions to distract you.”
Jameson stares at him as if his brain is misfiring.
“This will free you, Mr. Miles.”
“Or free you to steal my shit.”
“Put all electronics and your clothes into the baskets and leave your suitcases by the door. We will put those into storage, you may keep your toiletries bag if you wish, but we would prefer you to use our organic products for your stay.”
“No phones?” I frown.
“No internet, and no phones,” Bjorn replies. “No watches, no time. No distractions.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Jameson sighs. “I’m out.”
Bjorn smiles calmly. “Shower, wash the world off each other and then your master will come to collect you.”
“To do what?” Jameson snaps.
“Tonight you both have a two-hour massage followed by a hot oil bath, a beautiful dinner followed by an offering of tropical fruit.”
Jameson puts his weight onto his back foot and I can tell even he likes the sound of that.
I smile goofily. “Thank you, that sounds wonderful.”
He bows his head and without another word he walks out the door and closes it behind him.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Jameson snaps.