Page 185 of My Rules

Is this really happening?

This is already the best vacation of my life.

“This is the captain speaking. We are preparing for landing. I trust you’ve had a pleasant trip, and thank you for flying with us today.”

I smile over at my travel partner, and he gives me a sexy wink. Blake and I have drunk way too much champagne, and we’ve laughed and flirted for the entire six-hour flight.

“I still can’t believe we flew business class,” I lean over and whisper.

“I can’t believe you’ve only ever flown coach.” He widens his eyes.

I sit back in my seat as my mind returns to my marriage and the way things were. We never flew business; we never went to fancy restaurants or took exotic vacations. And it’s not like we didn’t have money; John was a top-paid surgeon with a giant family trust fund. We just never did anything that would spend unnecessary money, and at the time, I thought it was because we were being wise and saving for a rainy day. Now I know better—we were just saving for John’s mistresses’ bank account. The one he used to wine and dine his side pieces.

I’ve since found out that all those conference trips he went on were actually a cover for taking them on exotic holidays, and I’d bet my life they flew business. They went to the fancy restaurants that we weren’t allowed to go to because it was stupid to spend that much on dinner.

Looking back on all his betrayal, knowing that he treated them with more respect and took them to better places than me was the information that hurt me the most.

He was happy to spend money on a random chick and yet was a tight-ass with the one woman who was desperately in love with him.

The person he was supposed to love the most—his wife.

Blake reaches over and takes my hand in his, pulling me out of the sad memory, and I smile over at him. “Where are we staying?” I ask.

“Somewhere fabulous.”

The car pulls into a grand driveway, and I peer through the front window. The gardens are immaculate, and flaming torches light up the sweeping driveway. Men in white suits stand around the huge fancy doors of the sandstone building.

“My god,” I whisper. “What is this place?”

“I hope it lives up to its reputation.” Blake looks around and shrugs. “So far, so good.”

The car comes to a stop, and the doorman opens my car door. “Good evening.” He smiles.

“Thank you.” I smile as I climb out, and a flurry of men begin to unload our luggage from the car.

“This way to reception,” another man tells Blake.

“Thank you.” He takes my hand and leads me through the foyer. My eyes are wide. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

“I have.” Blake gives me a soft smile as he cups my face.

Butterflies dance in my stomach. He’s so dreamy.

We walk up to the desk. “Hello, we are checking in, please. The name is Blake Grayson.”

“Hello, Mr. Grayson.” The man smiles at both of us as he types on his computer. “My name is Allan, and I’ll be looking after you today. Yes, here we are. We have you staying in the penthouse for six nights?”

“That’s right.” Blake nods.

The penthouse.

I bite my bottom lip to hide my smile, and Blake puts his arm around me and kisses my temple.

“I’ll be back in one moment, sir; I just have to collect your keys from the back,” Allan says.

“Sure.” Blake kisses my temple again.

“You are so affectionate in public,” I whisper, half-embarrassed.

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