Page 53 of Filthy Rich

He may be the most amazing boy I’ve ever met, but that’s no excuse.

So he snapped at me. Big deal. I knew it was coming. I knew this was all too good to be true and could never last. I always knew he was a bit of an arrogant jerk.

How can I act surprised that the inevitable finally happened?

It’s all for the best, anyway. Little fights and disagreements make it easier for people to go their separate ways without regret when the time comes. Everybody knows that. It’s the same thing that happens when teenagers drive their parents crazy the summer before they leave for college, or when lovers go back to their normal lives on Monday morning after a romantic getaway. You need a touch of darkness to let go of the closeness. Otherwise, you’d never be able to stand it.

I rub my chest, feeling better already. Not great, but better. I was fine before I met Lucien. I’ll be fine again when he’s gone. Hell, maybe part of me will even be glad when he’s gone?—

No. That’s a complete lie. None of me will be happy when he’s gone.

“You okay?” he says with a sidelong glance as he navigates the car around the latest hairpin curve.

“Fine,” I say, annoyed by his solicitous nature. Funny how there’s no detail about me too small for him to notice, but he guards his own moods and feelings like a fully armored medieval knight protecting his castle.

That’s the thing that really gets me about him. I still don’t know anything about him. Not really. And I never will. Big deal, right? We still aren’t sure how the Great Pyramids were built, but nobody’s crying about it. I’m not legally entitled to know more about, say, Ackerley or his marriage to and loss of Ravenna. His life before me is a mystery, and that’s fine. It won’t kill me. People get used to living with mysteries.

But the mystery about who Lucien Winter really is on the other side of his brick wall will needle me for a good long time. I know it. I hate unsolved mysteries. Worse, I don’t know how I’m supposed to put him out of my mind once I get back home. And how can I ever?—

“Tamsyn. Stop daydreaming. We’re here.”

Startled, I look around and discover that we are, in fact, parked near a beach with blue-and-white striped umbrellas and a lot of people, but thankfully not too many. And no shrieking kids that I can see, for which I’m eternally grateful.

My nerves are stretched enough today, thanks.

“Wow,” I say as we get out and grab our things. The area is lush and green, but also rugged. Probably because the hill above drops away to a cliff when it reaches the water’s edge, creating a ring of privacy around the lapping turquoise water. There’s enough room for everyone to spread out, with boulders dotting the pebbly sand, making shady and semiprivate spots. “I’ve never been to a rocky beach like this before. Actually, other than the Jersey Shore, the only beach I’ve been to was in Florida for spring break one year— Oh my God.”

I stop dead and drop my gaze when confronted with the image of an elderly couple walking toward us, chattering happily in Italian. They’re nude. And by nude, I don’t mean that the woman goes topless, and the man wears a tiny Speedo that highlights his lumpy package.

No. I mean nude. Full. Frontal.

“Scusa,” the man says as they walk by, dick, testicles and saggy breasts in full swing.

“Oh my God,” I say again, rounding on Lucien as soon as they’ve passed. “This is a nude beach?”

“Indeed,” he says, eyes gleaming and lips twitching at my discomfort. “It’s Europe. Europe has nude beaches.”

“Yes, but I didn’t know that this was one of the nude beaches.” I keep my head down as we walk along the shoreline and around the bend to a more private spot behind one of the rock outcroppings. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I figured you’d notice soon enough.”

There’s a lot to notice. I’ve never seen such a selection of dicks, schlongs and cocks. Most of which, by the way, are attached to men I’d sooner not see naked. Although there is a tall and godlike man—I’m guessing Greek or Italian—with a fantastic body and face to go along with his impressively long and thick penis.

As for breasts? You’ve got round, perky, droopy, floppy… Basically the Seven Dwarfs selection of whatever your heart desires. The same with cooches. There are some with bushes. No bushes. Wrinkly. Baby smooth. It’s all on display here.

And it’s not that I’m staring. It’s that I find it impossible to find a safe place to look.

“Oh my God,” I keep muttering. “Oh my God.”

Lucien laughs. I suppose I should be grateful that the ice has been broken between us again, although I’m not sure my flaming face will ever recover.

“I guess I should be glad it’s not just topless women,” I say. “Not my flavor.”

“Noted,” he says, smothering another round of laughter.

“What’s the protocol here?” I say as we unpack the basket he had tucked in the car and unfurl our towels. I slip off my dress and toss it into my bag, revealing my lavender two-piece. “I suppose you expect me to go nude.”

His appreciative gaze skims me from top to bottom, lingering on the bow between my breasts, where I tied the straps.

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