Page 31 of And Then Came You

“You needn’t go to that trouble.”

“It’s no trouble. You are his dear friend.”

Friend. Right. I need to keep telling myself that—repeatedly, until I believe it.

* * *

After settling into my suite, adorned in a level of luxury I thought reserved for royalty, I change into my swimsuit. Sam insists I join him at the pool, eager to chat after so many weeks of radio silence.

Pivoting in front of the mirror, I try to rein in any negative self-talk, focusing instead on my attributes. Namely, my ass and tits. They’ve both garnered quite a lot of attention in the past, even if my hips are wider than I prefer and my thighs—for God’s sake, I never had an issue with my confidence before I started hanging out with models.

Now, it’s an uphill battle. One I’m not sure I’m ready to fight.

I know what will help, or rather, who. A call to Damian. I haven’t seen him since that night at the bar, when we exchanged numbers and some minor flirtation.

But we’ve spoken several times, and once our schedules align, we plan on going out for a proper date. He’s a catch, and not at all the heathen Sam portrayed him to be. Damian is handsome, successful and highly intelligent.

Promising as hell.

“Hello, beautiful.”

Damian also loves to compliment me, which is a pleasant turn from previous boyfriends. Best part? Every one seems genuine.

“How’s your weekend? Are you playing golf?”

“At the halfway house now, getting a drink. Then another nine holes and dinner at the club tonight. Too bad you couldn’t join me.”

Part of me wonders if I should have taken Damien up on his offer. I likely would have had a wonderful time, but when Sam called, my heart knew its destination. I miss Sam more than I miss the opportunity to further my relationship with Damian.

But Damian is also local, so even though we’re both busy, finding time is far and away easier than catching up with a jet-setting superstar.

“We’ll have dinner soon. The next month is crazy for us both, but we’ll find an evening. There’s always pockets of time.”

“For you, I’ll make time. Enjoy your weekend. Don’t have too much fun.”

“No promises.”

“Talk soon, beautiful.” With a click, he ends the call. But even that few minutes is enough to restore my self-confidence.

Damian gives me something to look forward to on the romantic front. Now, I can spend time with Sam on the purely platonic front. Especially since the man has wasted no time finding a new beauty to bed.

Before I walk to the pool, I do some digging on my hostess for the weekend. Hey, I majored in journalism. When her profiles appear on the internet, my stomach flips.

Not only is Almira gorgeous, friendly, and well-heeled. No, that would be too easy. She’s also the daughter of Iranian royalty, albeit distantly, with a family value estimated in the billions.

But it doesn’t end there. She’s a graduate in Art History from Oxford and speaks four languages. Fluently.

I barely speak one.

With a sigh, I flip my laptop closed.

How in the hell do I wind up in these situations?

Sam is already by the pool, smiling when he catches sight of me. “Look at you, Lexi. Actually showing some skin.”

I flush at his statement, acutely aware of how pale I am compared to his bronze goddess. “It is the pool. I figured a bikini wouldn’t be too far out of line. Thankfully, I slathered on enough sunblock to protect me until the next century.”

I sink into the chair, smiling as a young man comes to take my drink order. It really is like a luxury hotel. Sliding off my shorts and tank, I push my sunglasses up my nose and pull a book from my bag.

---