up to an ocean of pillows, comforters and soft mattress. It’s warm and cozy and leaving is out of the question. So I quest across the sea for Rhys, but he’s not in bed, his side cold and empty.
Yawning, I sit up. Judging by the light streaming in through the windows, I’ve slept a lot longer today than yesterday, slowly adjusting back to Eastern Standard Time.
Pulling a bathrobe around me, I head to the kitchen. A faint headache is hovering around the crown of my head and I drain an entire glass of cold water. But it had been worth it, for last night, for getting to know his siblings.
I smile at the memories of what had happened after. The whisper of his voice in my ear on the beach. I’m glad I met you, before we’d made love under the stars. Because that’s what it had felt like, just the two of us and the waves and the slow, building certainty that I’m falling in love with him.
I trace my lips with my finger, wondering at the heat that arises between us with so little effort. The desire is obvious, evident, despite it being absent with so many men before him. Effortless, even, built on foundations that seem rock-solid. Trust and friendship and shared adventure.
My gaze snags on a piece of paper on the dining room table, right next to his closed laptop.
Ivy,
I’m out for a run, will grab us some breakfast on the way back. While you wait… open my laptop and look at the first picture.
I do as he’s instructed. His laptop comes to life, opening a picture that makes my heart stop.
It’s me, and yet it’s not.
I’m sitting on the patio to our villa in Bali. The jungle opens up behind me, a sprawling expanse of green. I’m nude, one leg crossed over the other, half-reclining back on my arms. My eyes are closed and I’m looking up at the sky, a smile on my lips. The rose petals drifting in the pool beside me add to the magic, the illusion that I’m surrounded entirely by nature. Of it, and from it.
It might be the best picture ever taken of me.
It barely looks like me, this ethereal, otherworldly creature of nature.
I’d thought I’d be mortified seeing these pictures, but looking at it now, it’s art. Without Rhys I would never have dared be a part of its creation.
A notification pings on his laptop, the text coming up on the top right corner. My eyes skim over it on instinct.
Ben Rieler: Just looked at the preliminary photos. I don’t want to lose the bet, but they look great.
The bet? A second text follows right after the first, this one, too, appearing in the notification bar.
Ben Rieler: Still waiting on my thanks for finding the model from the Hamptons party for you, by the way. You sure didn’t seem upset about it in Sydney, but then, you love blondes!
The world tips slightly, falls off-keel, the words slicing through me like a sharp knife through butter. The first question spawns a thousand others, my mind fracturing like a kaleidoscope. I sit frozen in front of the computer as the notifications slide off screen and leave me alone with the portrait of me, naked and happy in Bali.
The model from the Hamptons party.
Had Rhys been the one to ask for me?
I dismiss the idea as soon as I think it. His shock at seeing me in the office room in Rieler Travels had been too real to be anything but. Which means…
The Hamptons party.
I hadn’t been paying attention to the other men, the ones sitting around Rhys, caught in his spell… but Ben must have been one of them. Hadn’t they discussed something about Sydney? He chose me. He chose me from my agency, not because of my skill, or my portfolio, or because I was the right fit for Rieler. He chose me as some elaborate prank played on his old friend, then, because of our argument and our tumble in the pool. An amusement of rich men, this sport.
I put my finger to the keyboard and start flicking through the images, away from the beautiful one he’d wanted me to see. And it’s all images of me, all naked, all edited with the lighting. My own face taunts me in all my happy, relaxed ignorance.
Each image makes my cheeks flush darker, the shame deepening. Ben had chosen me as a prank, and Rhys had known, and hadn’t told