I head to the left side of the bed and slip between the silk sheets. It抯 a king size bed, but it feels tiny. Crew and I are nowhere close to touching, but I can feel the heat radiating from his side of the bed. Hear his rhythmic breaths. Instead of counting sheep, I抦 thinking about having sex with him.
It takes me a long time to fall asleep.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CREW
Scarlett does not like being surprised. I knew that before I set this plan into motion, and my ears are still ringing with her questions when we land in Italy. Her tone grows more and more annoyed with each vague response.
Where are we going? 揧ou抣l see.?
How long are we staying? 揘ot sure.?
My personal favorite, which I don抰 bother answering: Will there be WiFi?
I know she feels badly about what went down in Paris that first day. Telling me she didn抰 want me there, pouting while Jacques hit on me. She抯 too stubborn and prideful to actually apologize, but she agreed to extend our trip past the few days it was originally supposed to last. I lied and told her I needed to take a meeting on behalf of Kensington Consolidated, and it made more sense for me to cross the French-Italian border than put someone else on a plane from New York to Florence. After four days of avoidance and silence, I think she was just shocked I asked.
Maybe it抯 hypocritical of me, expecting honesty from her while I make up meetings. But the difference is I抦 lying to keep her close. Scarlett lies to push me away. And, call me insane, but I keep trying over and over again.
I抦 as stubborn as she is. Having my wife ignore me isn抰 just a point of pride. Scarlett fascinates me. Her beauty is captivating, but she is enthralling. I want more than a superficial relationship with her. More than a physical one, although my body wouldn抰 completely agree.
I want to know why she抯 a multi-billionaire working hours like she抯 struggling to pay rent. I want to know whether her relationship with her parents was ever different than it is now, if their unhappiness bled into her梐nd now into us. I want to know why she agreed to marry me when she seems intent on ignoring her father抯 wishes and is hostile toward commitment.
After she asks about the WiFi, I stop answering her questions, which only annoys her more. She抯 still grumbling as she follows me off the jet and toward the waiting car.
The late-afternoon air is warmer and drier than it was when we left France. Dapples of golden light filter down from the blue sky, bathing the tarmac and the distant buildings that make up the airport with a subtle glow.
I exchange pleasantries with the driver before sliding into the air-conditioned car. He finishes loading our luggage into the trunk, and then we抮e pulling away from the airport and turning onto a busy road.
揧ou speak Italian??Scarlett sounds surprised.
揝ome.?I ask her where the nearest train station is.
She appears impressed, telling me she doesn抰 speak any Italian.
I catch our driver smiling in the rearview mirror as traffic thins and we coast along the road connecting the port city of Salerno and clifftop Sorrento before we enter Amalfi. The car winds past scenic views of terraced vineyards and cliffside lemon groves.
The villa is one of the few international properties my family owns that I ever bother staying at. When we pull up out front, I抦 reminded why. It used to be an old rope factory producing fishing nets. The workers undoubtedly enjoyed the same view of aquamarine waves dotted with boats with a shoreline framed by the colorful houses staggered on the cliffs, looking as precarious as Jenga blocks. Years of renovations and wealthy owners have made the house unrecognizable from its humble beginnings. The majolica cladding was custom designed for this property alone.
Scarlett walks across the terracotta floors toward the terrace. She says nothing, which is a first. I抳e brought other women here before, and they抳e all spent a minimum of twenty minutes oohing and aahing over every detail. None of them grew up with the level of luxury Scarlett is accustomed to. All of them knew their time here would be limited and singular.
Technically, Scarlett has a claim to this property. Our ironclad prenup distributes our substantial assets in the event we get divorced. As long as we抮e married, they all belong to the other梬ith the exception of the magazine she asked me to sign away. Possessing something often causes it to lose its luster. It抯 human nature to covet what we can抰 or don抰 have. Appreciating what we do own is much rarer.
I watch our driver stack the suitcases in the entryway, then turn back to Scarlett. She抯 twisting her long brunette locks up into a bun, looking around like she抯 stepped inside a museum and is observing its artifacts. Appreciative, yet detached.