Page 23 of Forbidden Fruit

The implication hangs between us, unspoken but unmistakable. Before I can respond, the sliding door opens behind us. I don't need to turn around to know who it is—Rebecca's expression shifts immediately, a careful mask falling into place.

Clive

"There you are," Jack's voice carries across the deck, heavy with sleep and irritation. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

Rebecca straightens her posture, smile number eleven appearing—but this one doesn't reach her eyes. "Just enjoying the sun. How's your head?"

"Killing me," he grumbles, dropping into the lounger on Becca's other side.

He's wearing expensive swim trunks and designer sunglasses, his hair still mussed from sleep. "Dad, got any of those hangover pills you always travel with?"

I bite back a correction about the "Dad" title—a manipulation he only employs when he wants something. "In my toiletry bag. Medicine cabinet."

He makes no move to get up and just stretches out dramatically. "Bec, would you mind? You're already up."

I watch Rebecca's expression flicker for a millisecond before she sets her book down. "Sure." She stands, adjusting her bikini bottom in a way that forces me to look away.

"And maybe some coffee?" Jack calls after her as she pads toward the sliding door. "The strong stuff, not that weak shit you like to make."

When she's gone, Jack turns to me with bloodshot eyes. "So, what were you two talking about for so long?"

"Books," I say simply, finishing my drink.

He snorts. "God, she can be so boring sometimes. Always with her nose in a book."

I set my glass down with more force than necessary. "I find her quite interesting, actually."

"Yeah, well, you would." He stretches again, oblivious to my irritation. "You're both nerds."

I bite my tongue, reminding myself that engaging with Jack's childishness never ends well. Instead, I stand and walk to the infinity pool's edge, looking out at the Caribbean. The water is particularly blue today, stretching endlessly toward the horizon.

"Your mother mentioned you have something planned for this trip," I say carefully, my back still to him.

"Maybe," he says noncommittally. "What's it to you?"

I turn to face him. "Rebecca is a remarkable woman. Intelligent, kind, ambitious."

Jack pushes his sunglasses up into his hair, squinting at me suspiciously. "What's your point?"

"My point is that she deserves someone who recognizes those qualities." I meet his gaze steadily. "Someone who treats her accordingly."

His expression darkens. "Are you seriously giving me relationship advice? After your disaster of a marriage to my mother?"

"Perhaps because of it," I counter. "I know what happens when two people who aren't right for each other stay together out of obligation or convenience."

"You don't know anything about me and Becca," he says, voice rising slightly.

"I know that I just witnessed you send her to fetch pills and coffee when you're perfectly capable of getting them yourself."

He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Oh my god. Are you seriously getting all worked up because I asked my girlfriend to grab me something? That's what couples do, Clive. They help each other out."

"Is that what you call it?" I can feel my temper rising, which rarely happens outside the boardroom.

Jack's eyes narrow. He's not as stupid as he sometimes pretends to be. "What exactly are you implying?"

I take a deep breath, forcing my voice to remain even. "I'm not implying anything. I'm stating outright that relationships should be balanced."

"Like you would know." He swings his legs over the side of the lounger, sitting up to face me fully. "You think I don't see what's happening here? The way you look at her?"

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