Page 75 of Heated
And a little terrified that it is.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ZORA
So this is how the other half lives.
Private jet. Travel by high-end SUVs fully stocked with alcohol and food. Full-service, luxury resort in western Colorado, four hours outside of Denver.
Stepping into the main lobby with its cathedral ceilings, gleaming stone floors, floor-to-ceiling windows that invite the gorgeous Red Rock Canyon beyond inside, and elegant yet rustic decor, I try to prevent my jaw from dropping and embarrassing Cyrus. It’s tough, though. Because this place’s beauty is like nature on steroids.
What have I gotten myself into?
You don’t belong here. You don’t belong here.
That insidious voice whispers through my mind, and I mentally shake my head, attempting to rid myself of the self-destructive thought. But it refuses to release its talons from my psyche. Maybe if I weren’t standing with a group of people who all could’ve stepped straight from aReal Housewives of PickaCity, it wouldn’t be as difficult. But everything from their clothes to their jewelry to the self-entitled demeanor screams wealth and privilege. I don’t belong among these people.
And I don’t know if I want to.
But Cyrus does.
He’s a chameleon.
No, no, because that makes him sound like a hypocrite or a poser, when he’s absolutely not. The man who can sit on my couch eating takeout and watching Netflix or singing to “Baby, What a Big Surprise” at a Chicago concert is also the same man fully capable of adapting to this group. He’s in his element with them. He shines with them.
Unease squirms in my stomach.
“You okay?” Cyrus murmurs in my ear, squeezing my hand.
That quick, with just the whisper of his warm breath against my skin and his touch, my disquiet dissolves, and I tip my head back, smile at him.
And I’m reminded why I said yes to accompanying him here to this retreat. Not just out of my guilt. But because from the beginning of our unique ... relationship, he’s not only cared about my feelings; he’s sought to protect them. He’s been a defender of them. Somewhere along the line, we really did establish a friendship.
No real relationship can be built on a lie.
I fidget under that soft reminder that ghosts through my head like a dark harbinger. Shoving it aside, I mouth to Cyrus, “I’m fine.”
He studies me for a long moment but then dips his head and returns his attention to our resort host. Or at least most of his attention. He lifts my hand to his mouth and brushes a kiss across the back of it. Now, I’m sure the PDA is for the benefit of his colleagues, but the shiver passing through me is all too real. So is the catch in my lungs and heart.
“The Red Plateau Resort wants to thank you again for choosing us for your retreat. We offer several amenities to ensure your experience with us is the most enjoyable possible. Just to name a few, we have four restaurants and cafés, stables, a spa, two outdoor pools and hot tubs, HD theater with stadium seating, as well as state-of-the-art conference meeting rooms. There will be booklets in your rooms containing complete details regarding all of our services and opportunities.”
The young brunette dressed in a sandstone-colored linen shirt and pants turns and beckons several staff members forward.
“I’m sure everyone would like to freshen up after traveling. We’ll show you to your rooms.”
Byrooms, I discover ten minutes later, she means our own little house that could’ve been carved directly from the surrounding red rock. With cathedral ceilings, huge windows, a living room, a fireplace, a private deck that includes a firepit, a fully stocked kitchen with top-of-the-line appliances, and a bedroom with breath-stealing views, how do the owners get anyone to leave?
Strolling through yet another living area with an inlaid gas fireplace, I surreptitiously pinch myself. How has this become my life? Even for a weekend? I wonder if Cyrus would be cool with me opting to stay right here for the rest of the retreat.
“It’s a lot, isn’t it?”
His arms wrap around me from behind, his lips grazing my ear.
I nod. Pause. “Is this the life you want? The one you planned for?”
He’s quiet; then he palms my shoulders and turns me around. His blue eyes search my face.
“What’s your real question?”
