Page 23 of Submit

He holds my hand up, inspecting it. “Perfect.” He kisses the ring on my finger, picks up his martini, and walks back out the door in his perfectly pressed three-piece, gray suit, with his skinny navy-blue tie that matches my dress.

I don’t know if it’s the weight of the ring itself, or the weight of seeing it on my finger that causes me to start hyperventilating, but I am in full-blown panic mode. I throw back my martini, begging myself to hold it together tonight.

Humidity does nothing but destroy my hair but still, I try to battle it with an entire bottle of frizz-control hairspray, hoping to wear it down with beach waves. I put makeup on for the second time since we moved here, really trying to bring my A-game. Because it will be dark out, and my dress is dark, I go heavier than usual with the eyeliner, making my blue eyes pop more than they already do. My lipstick is crimson, accentuating my tanned skin and the navy-blue fabric coating it. Pleased with the overall effect, I strap on the only pair of heels I brought to Aruba - which mercifully match this dress - and walk out into the living room, the light buzz from my martini in full swing.

“Libby…” Will pauses like he has to physically catch his breath. “You look stunning.”

“Thank you. You look really nice as well.” It’s true, he does. I just happen to see him in this outfit several times a week, whereas mine…not so much.

He holds out his arm for me. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” My stomach starts to roil in protest at what the night holds. I figure I’m expected to make small talk with the wives while the men conduct business because this may be the twenty-first century, and the Dutch may endorse gender equality, but these are businessmen dealing with politics and I’d rather stay out of it anyway.

~

HALFWAY UP A LONG, unpaved, barely marked driveway is a guard house. Two men with machine guns step out and take Will’s license. They ask him to pop the trunk and search our backseat as well. I don’t recognize these men as I search their faces in hopes of finding familiar emerald eyes staring back at me, but I already know it’s a lost cause. I can tell by the way they move that none of these men are Casper.

Once given the all-clear, we continue our journey up the dusty, dirt road, my palms sweating more with every foot we travel. The sprawling estate sits atop the hill and has the most magnificent view of the town below and the sea farther out. From up here, it looks like we are on the edge of the island, just way up high. The house is a one story, white stucco house that looks like it goes on forever in all directions, builtoutinstead of up.

As we approach the front door, Will gives me a quick rundown of the rules as if I’m a child who doesn’t understand the gravity of the situation.

“Only speak when spoken to. Always usemeneerto address the governor. It means sir.”

“Will, I got it. I do have manners, you know.”

He looks down at me and I see his own nerves reflecting mine. It’s the only reason I’ll excuse his condescending tone. “Yes, of course. Sorry.”

I pat his hand reassuringly. “Just be you. You’re charming and driven and you’re overprepared for this.”

Even as I give Will a pep talk, I can feel Casper in the air around me. There’s a hum of electricity that’s waking up every nerve ending in my body and only one man’s presence has the power to do that.

Will turns his attention back to the door just as it’s opened by a girl, younger than me, in a non-provocative maid’s uniform. Her eyes are bright and happy as she greets us.

She takes my purse and places it over the back of my chair in the dining room before escorting us into - what I assume is - the sitting room. My eyes scan the area, immediately taking in the grandeur. Although the exterior of the house is white, there is no trace of light, airy, carefree, island-living in this room. This estate has clearly housed government officials for a very long time. Dark colors and solid wood furnishings give way to an abundance of opulence, seen even in the fine china of the tea cups and the crystal decanter in the corner. Built-in bookshelves adorn the walls on all sides. There is only one small window in here and a large fan whirs overhead. It might be considered cozy with a book and a glass of wine, but with six people, most of whom are putting on facades right now, it feels claustrophobic.

Introductions are made, drinks are passed out, and we’re instructed to “sit and get comfortable.” I’m only partly focused on the conversation when one of the bookshelves opens and none other than Casper, himself, walks out, a pistol strapped to his belt and knives around his thigh. I’m guessing the sling across his chest is connected to a powerful weapon on his back. He’s dressed all in black again. The hard set of his jaw and the veins popping on his forearms - visible from having his shirtsleeves rolled up - clearly convey that he’s in work mode and is not to be messed with.

My thoughts start to spiral in all directions.

I’ve never seen a man exude such raw masculinity.

God, is the governor of Aruba really in that much danger?

Why does a single second in this man’s presence have me aching between my legs?

I wonder if he’s ever shot someone.

I wonder what he sounds like when he comes.

After that last thought, I try to rein it in so I don’t do something stupid like strip out of this dress and fling myself at the man standing in front of me, consequences be damned.

Casper’s eyes widen a fraction when he sees me and he seems to falter for just a second before regaining his composure. Almost imperceptibly, he shakes his head, his meaning clear:Say nothing.

I nod my understanding in a way that could just be a nod of acknowledgement orhellofor those watching.Arepeople watching? This meeting feels so intense already.

My blood is thundering in my ears and my heart is pounding in my chest with the addition of him to the room. Once my heart finds a normal rhythm again, I’m not shocked to find that I actually feel more at ease knowing Casper is here.

Which is batshit crazy because for all I know, he’s the most unstable man on the planet.

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