I walked into the house to Sloane turning the place upside down.
“Where did you go and why did you take my laptop with you?” She asked angrily as soon as I stepped in.
She had found out the laptop was gone and it was the only reason she was up and searching everywhere.
Her irritation was obvious as she stared at me.
“Good morning to you too.” I said calmly.
“I was asking a question.” She snapped back.
“I went for a walk and for your laptop, I didn’t return it last night.
I also took the liberty of clearing your other work items.” I replied as I took a seat.
“Give them back, I need to work.” She practically snarled but I was unfazed by it.
“My apologies but that isn’t gonna happen.
Have a seat.” I said, gesturing at the sofa.
She didn’t sit down.
“You went through my stuff.” Her voice dropped to something quieter and more dangerous.
“You came into my room while I was asleep and you took my things!” I watched her pace back and forth, trying to hold herself back from crashing out.
For some reason, I found it hilarious.
“That’s basically stealing!
You invaded my privacy!” She fumed.
Raising an index finger, I corrected her; “I took your work things.
Your private phone is on the kitchen counter.
Besides, I left your books and skincare routine untouched.” “You had no right.” Sloane gritted out, staring staring straight into my eyes with burning intensity.
I gulped and broke the eye lock before it held me captive.
“I had every right.” I turned in my chair to face her fully.
“You agreed to two weeks of vacation not to work from a different continent.
We agreed and yet, you broke it even before we landed so why should I remain civil?” “We have a PR agreement, not-” “The PR agreement requires convincing content.” I kept my voice even as I cut her off.
I knew she hated whenever I did that but I continued.
“What’s convincing about a wife who spends nine hours a day staring at a laptop?
What exactly are you planning to post?
A photo of your inbox?” Her jaw tightened.
“Give them back.” “No.” “Zane.” “No.” At this point, I got on my feet.
She towered over me her full height and this conversation required me to towering over her.
“Here’s what’s going to happen.
You’re going to spend today actually being present.
We’re going to the beach, we’re going to eat food, and you’re going to stop treating this place like a layover.
If you do that, if you give me one real day, your devices will come back tonight.” She scoffed, “And if I don’t?” “Then I decline every PR request for the rest of the trip.
There would be no more photos, content or beach walks for the camera.” I held her gaze.
“You explain to your team why your husband stopped cooperating, and you explain to the board why you went on a honeymoon without a single proof.
And then Veronica will have exactly the ammunition she’s been looking for.” She stood there in the morning light looking at me and at the same time, looking for an exit.
Calculative as she was, she searched for a way around this.
There was none.
I’d closed them all before she woke up.
“This is blackmail you know.” She grumbled.
I smirked, fully aware that I had won this round.
“Call it whatever you like, but do we have a deal?” I asked “One day?” She asked grudgingly.
“One day.
After this, your laptop would be right on the kitchen table.” She mulled over the idea right in front of me and I watched her.
It was almost like the gears in her mind were turning right before my eyes.
“Fine, I accept.” She stared at me for another moment before she turned and went back inside to get dressed while I sat back down to wait for her.
Sloane came down forty minutes later in a white sundress that she had clearly not packed for any practical purpose.
She looked really beautiful in that dress.
But I said nothing about it because saying something would have ruined it.
We went to the beach.
The first hour was a negotiated peace.
She sat beside me on the loungers with her arms crossed and her sunglasses on, enduring the silence just like I was.
I didn’t push her to talk, I just sat there and ordered drinks for the both of us, even though she hadn’t asked for it.
She in turn drank hers without acknowledging it.
Waves came in and went out, the sun moved and nobody spoke.
Then, somewhere around the second hour, her arms uncrossed.
Which I noticed.
She pulled her knees to her chest and looked out at the water.
The stiffness she carried everywhere loosened slightly and it looked like her mind had wandered far away.
Then she finally spoke.
“My father used to take me to the beach,” My eyes stayed glued to her as she watched the water.
“When I was young.
Before everything got complicated.
He’d pack a lunch basket and we’d sit on the sand for hours doing nothing and he’d tell me the names of the clouds.” She paused.
“I don’t remember any of them any more.
This place reminds me of those moments.” I kept quiet and let the window of vulnerability stay open without rushing to soothe her pain.
She mistook my silence for awkwardness and immediately tried to dissuade me from saying anything.
She shook her head quickly.
” Sorry, I don’t know why I said that.
Ignore me.” “No, no, it’s fine.
This is good.
Maybe you’re finally sitting still enough for it to come back.” I said softly.
“Yeah, maybe.” she answered before going quiet again.
While she sat there, very slightly, the corner of her mouth moved.
It was the most honest thing I’d seen on her face since she sat across from me in that café with a contract.
“Tell me something,” She said in the softest tone I had heard from her in a while.
“What do you want to know?” She then turned toward me and closed the gap between us to bring us closer.
Close enough that I could see the light catch the water in her eyes.
“Something real.
I don’t want anything for PR or related to the contract, tell me something real about you.” I thought about it for a second, wondering what piece of my life I wanted to share with her in this moment.
“When my father died,” I started slowly, “I sat in his office for six hours before I told anyone.
I just sat in his chair and didn’t move.
I didn’t know what I was doing.
I think I was trying to understand what it felt like to be him.
To sit where he sat and see what he saw.” “Did it work?” I shook my head and chuckled.
“No.
His chair was uncomfortable and his desk faced a wall.
I don’t know what that man was thinking.” She laughed for real, which surprised me.
It did something to my chest that I didn’t think too much of, only that I loved what it sounded like.
We were close enough that her shoulder was almost against mine, and neither of us moved away from it.
“Can I tell you something funny?” She asked.
I shrugged.
“Sure.” “I sat in my father’s chair too,” she said quietly.
“The day the will was read.
Before anyone could make a claim on anything.
I went to his office and I sat down and thought, this is mine.
I have to protect this.” She paused.
“It didn’t feel like inheriting something.
It felt like I had to fight for something that was rightfully mine, like I was going to war.” “And, you’ve been at war since then.” I mumbled.
“I have.” She said it without self-pity.
I turned to her.
She was already looking at me.
We were so close now that the only thing between us was a decision, and I watched her realize it at the same second I did.
There was a slight catch in her breath.
Her eyes moved staring at the shape of my lips just once, before she shifted her gaze.
Her face turned up toward mine, I leaned closer as her eyes shut.
Then the wave broke on the shore.
It was loud and sudden.
Sloane blinked, looked away and reached for her drink like that was what she’d meant to do all along.
I let her have it.
We walked back to the villa in the late afternoon with the sun behind us.
She seemed different than she’d been that morning.
There was something in her gait and the way she let her arms move freely.
It had less armor now.
The villa door had barely closed behind us when her personal phone lit up on the kitchen counter.
She glanced at it and picked it up.
I watched her face change.
“Maya.” She was already reading.
The ease of the afternoon drained from her expression so completely it was like watching a light switch off.
“Zane.” “What is it?” She turned the phone toward me.
Seven messages.
The preview visible on the screen showed three words in the first one before the text was cut off.
Veronica was at it again.