AMANDINE SETTLED HERSELF, sinking into the leather couch. Gavin sat across from her with bourbon on a small mahogany drink stand.
This jet was a lot more comfortable than anything else she’d ever flown in, including Gavin’s own personal aircraft. His was designed for productivity, while hers was all for pleasure and relaxation.
He pulled one of her legs up and rested it on his lap. She raised an eyebrow, but smoothed her knee-length skirt and continued to sip her apple and ginger cider.
Carefully he slipped her flat sandal off. It hit the floor next to his wing-tipped feet. He hadn’t bothered to change before hopping on the plane, and his business suit and dark masculinity were a counterpoint to her bright new jet. The five o’clock shadow on his jaw would feel deliciously scratchy against her skin if she had the courage to reach over and touch him.
She curled her hands and waited for him to make his move. Wooing her was his project. He’d said it was his job to make her interested in sex—she only had to stay receptive.
Except sex wasn’t the core of their problem, was it?
His thumb dug firmly into her insole, and Amandine bit her lower lip to contain a moan rising deep from her chest. Oh wow. She’d always known he had great hands, but this was unexpected.
He continued his ministrations, his fingers firm and confident, like they knew all the spots hurting from years of wearing heels. She was glad she’d had a pedicure done a couple of days before. Not that she wanted to impress him—she emphatically did not. But she wanted to look pretty. For herself, of course.
She eyed his right pocket. His phone hadn’t buzzed once in the last four hours. Ditto for his other toys.
“The market must be really slow today,” she said.
He gave her a quizzical look.
“Your phone and tablet are quiet.”
“They’re off.”
She must have misheard. “They’re what?”
“Off. We’re flying, you know.”
“You never turn them off though. You said that was one of the main benefits of owning your own jet.”
“This isn’t my jet, is it?”
She scoffed. “It is for all intents and purposes.”
“Do you want me to check messages and alerts?” he asked with a frown.
“No. Actually yes.” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“You’re supposed to choose one.”
Why did he have to sound so calm and reasonable? “I don’t want you to check, but I know you need to.”
Now he looked amused. “I do?”
“Yeah. For every dollar you bet, you can win or lose a hundred bucks or something. And I know you bet millions of dollars a day. A losing trade can destroy you and your clients.”
He chuckled.
“It’s nothing to laugh at! If you only worked for rich jerks, I wouldn’t care, but you manage pension funds. What are all those teachers and factory workers going to do if their retirements get wiped out?”
“You’re cute when you’re earnest.”
“I know you need to micromanage,” she said stubbornly. “I don’t have to like it that it keeps you busy, but I also want you to do the right thing.”
“Thank you, but the firm’s going to be fine. I’ve given explicit instructions on what to do. I might need to check in periodically, but those teachers and factory workers won’t have to scrub toilets to eat in their golden years.”
And she knew by the determined and cool look in his eyes that he told her the truth. He took his fiduciary duties seriously.
Why couldn’t her husband just be a money-hungry jerk?
Because you wouldn’t have fallen in love with him .
She’d fallen for his incredible and indomitable willpower, his drive, intelligence and passion. And years later, those attributes hadn’t disappeared. They were part of who he was.
He should’ve gotten fat and indolent or something. Then her body wouldn’t tingle at the contact of his skin against hers.
He pulled her other foot to his lap. His hands traveled upward and worked on the knots in her calves. This time she couldn’t stop the moan.
“I should’ve arranged for a masseuse,” Gavin said. “I didn’t realize you were so tense.”
“I’m not.” She sighed as he found another knot and worked on it.
His mouth quirked. “Whatever you say.”
She closed her eyes to block out his smugly accommodating expression. “So how much longer before we land?”
“Ping the cabin attendant,” he said.
“Too much effort. I thought you knew.”
“Anxious to land? Don’t you like flying more, now that you have your own jet?”
“It’s nice.” An understatement. The jet had everything, including privacy. But it was a consolation prize, something she got for loving a man who didn’t love her back. How could something material measure up, no matter how expensive it was?
“We should fly to Maryland later,” Gavin said.
“Maryland?” Her eyes came open.
He nodded. “I’m sure Mom would like to see you before you’re too far along to travel.”
“Oh.” Amandine took a long swallow of her cider.
Always impeccable, always gracious, Stella Lloyd intimidated Amandine, though she had never done anything to make Amandine feel uncomfortable. It was probably the incredibly high standards Stella set for herself—and maintained—that cowed Amandine. She felt like she could never live up to Stella’s ideals, and men married women like their mothers. Or so she’d heard.
“I’d love to visit,” she said. “But let’s not tell her about my pregnancy.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to disappoint her. And, you know, a divorce…”
Something dark and tense flickered in his eyes. “Well, think positive. We might not divorce after all.”
“You’re awfully confident.”
“I’m always confident.”
* * *
A black limo and a big SUV waited for them at the airport. Amandine looked at the cars skeptically. There was no way all their stuff would fit.
The late afternoon sun in Thailand was relentless. The air was so full of moisture, her dress clung to her. “My god,” she breathed.
“Let’s get you inside the limo,” Gavin said, while workers around them loaded the cars with suitcases.
She didn’t argue as her husband opened the door for her. The cool dry air in the limo provided instant relief. “It’s so hot.”
“A little hotter than L.A., but it’s the humidity.” He handed her a bottle of ice-cold mineral water. “It’ll be better at the house. We run the AC twenty-four seven there, and it’s close to the ocean.”
In about ten minutes or so, the drivers started toward the Lloyds’ vacation home.
“So where is the house exactly?” she asked.
“On a private beach. It’s a fairly long strip.”
She wrinkled her nose, remembering her time in Jamaica. She’d gone with Brooke to a fancy resort, but it was more like an upscale prison. “Is it surrounded by a barbed wire fence and guards with machine guns?”
He gave her an odd look. “It is, actually, but they’re very discreet. We aren’t the only ones who own the beach. On one side is a property Ethan’s friend Alex Damon owns, and on the other is Steve Freeman’s.”
“Steve Freeman the rock star?”
“Yup. There are other houses farther down, like the Pryces’ family home and so on. No fences between the properties.”
That made sense. People wealthy enough to own something like this probably didn’t want to see ugly fences and guards lurking around. They wanted a tropical resort, not a concentration camp.
Their cars drove past a gate manned by three machine-gun toting guards, their white smiles startling against dark sweat-beaded skin. Then there was a two-lane road for another twenty minutes or so through vegetation the color of jade and malachite.
Located on a private beach surrounded by lush tropical forest, the Lloyds’ vacation home was a white two-story structure that sprawled like a happy Great Dane. A uniformed housekeeper and two men came out to greet them at the main entrance. The petite woman introduced herself as Fern; the others were Manup and Tad. The men started porting in Gavin and Amandine’s belongings.
The mansion was stunning. The foyer ceiling soared, giant windows facing the beach and forest. The floors were made of polished teak, and the kitchen, dining and living rooms all connected in an open layout that shared a gorgeous view of the aquamarine ocean. The master bedroom suite on the second floor looked out onto the beach and an outdoor pool, and had a huge balcony with a shade over an intimate glass table and chair set for two. Crisp white sheets and numerous fluffy pillows spread over the king-size bed. Unsurprisingly, the house also had a large office in the back that had a forest view, the vibrant greens providing a soothing counterpoint to the room’s dark wood paneling.
“Done with the tour?” Gavin said after she’d returned to the master bedroom.
The staff had already unpacked most of their things, and he’d changed into a pair of shorts…sans shirt. Her mouth dried at the sight of his lean, muscular torso. She hadn’t seen him topless in a while. He wasn’t classically handsome the way many aspiring actors and models were, but it didn’t matter. He was the most gorgeous man to her, a godling among mere mortals. How could something this perfect be hers?
“Amandine?” he prodded when she didn’t say anything.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“If you need anything, just let Fern know.”
“Okay.” She took a comfy couch by the balcony. “Do we get wifi?”
“Of course. That’s how we stream the latest movies. There’s a theater on the first level.”
“Good god,” she muttered. The master bedroom suite had a giant flat-screen TV and entertainment system. She should’ve expected a separate room reserved for watching films. Gavin rarely had the time to see any, but he loved movies.
“Hungry?” Gavin asked.
“A little bit.” She hadn’t eaten much on the flight, and it was well past her usual dinner time.
“I asked Fern to set the table on the balcony. Hope you like Thai.”
She smiled. “Thai will be fine.”
* * *
Gavin didn’t show it, but he felt some relief. He hadn’t been a hundred percent sure if bringing Amandine to the family vacation home was the right thing to do. In three years of marriage, she had never hinted she’d wanted to come even though she’d had several opportunities. That was why he’d booked trips to Bora Bora and the Maldives. He hoped the privacy and beautiful natural surroundings in Thailand would soothe Amandine’s anger and help mend the rift between them.
The evening breeze from the ocean was cool and brought down the humidity. Little wisps of golden hair whipped around Amandine’s heart-shaped face as the two of them sat at the table on the balcony, facing the beach. Fern set down a big bowl of roasted duck with mild curry. Then came a platter of fried rice and vegetables. Gavin’s mouth started watering in anticipation; he knew she was a fabulous cook. It was a shame she had no interest in relocating to L.A.
Once she was gone, Gavin served Amandine, putting a huge mound of rice and several big pieces of duck on her plate.
“That’s fine,” she said, raising a hand for him to stop.
“You’re eating for two.”
“More like one and a tenth. The baby is still teeny.”
“Still. When you start having morning sickness, you won’t be able to eat much.”
“Gavin, if we’re going to be together you’re going to have to respect my wishes on some things. And one of them is how to feed the baby.”
Reluctantly, he stopped piling her plate and placed it in front of her. It wasn’t just the worry about her pregnancy that made him want to give her more food. He’d noticed she hadn’t eaten much during the long flight from L.A.
After she took a couple of bites, he asked, “Is it okay?”
“Fantastic.”
Munching on the tender duck, he watched his wife. She was so dainty and delicate, her artist’s fingers long and slim on her utensils. Unlike some of the women he’d dated, she knew how to eat. She’d never said no to good food or done something crazy like go on an all-grapefruit diet.
She also had quite a sweet tooth. He’d seen how much she loved European chocolate, which Luna always made sure was plentiful in the pantry.
“What kind of life have you always dreamed of?” he asked.
She gave him a long unreadable look.
“What? I can’t ask my wife?”
“It’s just… You never asked when we were dating.”
“I thought I knew back then.” He smiled. “It seems I might have been wrong.”
She took a long and contemplative sip of her mango-pineapple smoothie. “I’ve always wanted a life with…a good husband. And to have a family.”
“That’s it? How about your art? Don’t you want to be a famous artist?”
She shook her head. “That’s not up to me. The public either likes you or they don’t. But having a good, satisfying private life is something anybody can strive for.”
“If that’s what you want, why do you want a divorce?”
“Because.” She shrugged.
“Have I been a bad husband to you?” he asked, his voice tight.
“No.”
“Then?”
“Gavin, we just aren’t compatible. You and I want different things.”
“That’s not true. I want a life with a good wife and to have a family, too.”
“That’s not all you want, and it’s not the same.”
What the…? “Why the hell not?”
“I can’t be happy living like an accessory in your life. I want to be an integral part of a family.”
“Jesus, you’re insane. Certifiable.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I never bought an accessory a jet.” Or felt like he was getting kicked in the stomach when he thought about how he might lose an accessory .
“It was just a figure of speech,” she said. “I’m not good with words.”
“But still…an accessory?”
“Okay, scratch that. It was probably a bad analogy. How about you?” she asked quickly. Her eyes were wide and anxious. “What kind of life have you always envisioned for yourself? Other than the good wife and family part.”
Gavin stared at his wine glass. “To be wanted by the people I care about. I want them to never even consider not having me in their lives.” Not to be cast aside because he was found lacking. Because somebody else was “more.”
“That’s all?” She blinked. “The twenty billion bucks and all the perks aren’t even a factor in your life?”
“No. But the money is a means to an end.” Or should have been. His lips curled into a lopsided smile. Twenty billion not withstanding, he was still sitting here in this tropical paradise wondering how he was going to win his wife back. Spoiling her rotten hadn’t prevented her from wanting to leave him, even with his baby in her belly. “Thankfully I’m good at making it.”
“What would you have done if you weren’t?”
It was his turn to blink. The idea that he might not be good at his job had never occurred to him.
“Okay, how about this. What happens when you can’t do it anymore? What are you going to do then?”
He frowned. “I don’t know.” Multiplying money was something that came to him as naturally as breathing. He didn’t have a nobler calling like curing cancer or solving world hunger. He would’ve likely gotten in the way if he’d tried.
Making money was the only way he could be “more.”
“You don’t know what you’re going to do when you have several billion dollars lying around?” A gentle teasing lightened her voice. “Not to mention all the money you’re getting from The Lloyds Development?”
“What would you do if you had twenty billion?” he asked, curious.
She hadn’t grown up wealthy, not the way Catherine had. Amandine had been one of the poor relatives. Catherine had often remarked about how irresponsible Amandine’s father had been for failing to provide for his family.
“I’d set up a small trust fund to take care of my needs and spend the rest on charities. Maybe form my own foundation.”
Huh . “Wanna run one?”
“No. Forget it.” She shook her head. “I’m not smart enough to do that. I don’t know anything.”
He took her hand. “You’re plenty smart enough.”
Pink colored her smooth cheeks. “I’m not like Pete.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Pete’s the smart one. You’ve seen what he can do.”
“You’re selling yourself short. He’s no dummy, but it’s not all brain. He works really hard to do what he does. You can do the same. Just say the word, and I’ll set up a foundation for you.”
