Page 26 of Grumpy Bossy Billionaire Enemy

Amelia laughed. “No,” she replied, “your mother told me.”

My parent's business focus put Troy and me into a healthy competition as kids. Mother raised us while reminding us that we were supposed to continue the family empire. Troy, as the firstborn, was more groomed for it than I was. He was more polite, more reserved, and more diplomatic. So, as a kid, I tried to bring Troy out of his shell. I threw all sorts of tantrums and waited for him to react. Troy often did, and frequently, he got lost in his head. I became less reckless after Father’s death. It began to dawn on me that Troy and I were the only people Mother had left.

“Why did you pick me,” Amelia asked after a sweep of silence. "I learned there was a long list of partners for you. Why did you choose me?"

“I didn’t want to marry Emilie,” I chuckled.

“Emilie?” Amelia asked. “Troy’s Emilie?”

“Yes, it’s a long story.”

Amelia folded her hand under her breasts. “I want to listen to the story.”

“I was only joking. When I met you at your welcome party, I felt my first attraction.” I exhaled. “You are a smart, beautiful young lady; any man would die to have you.”

“Have you met Emilie?” I joked. “I'm happy Troy doesn't have to end up with her.”

“I’m happy you didn’t end up with her.”

“Of course, you are,” I bragged.

My eyes were fixed on Amelia as she looked out through the window. We were up in the sky, and the whole city of Richmond became tinier the further up we soared.

Chapter twelve

The Maldives

Amelia

The Maldives were more beautiful than they advertise in magazines. The blue ocean flowed with waves that hit our faces with cold air. Henry rented a car that took us to the resort, probably costing more than my salary. He took the receptionist's key and opened the door to a grand suite. It faced the rushing waves of the beach to the west. The floor-to-ceiling window offered spectacular view. One window component was wide open, and the white linen curtain blew at the mercy of the wind. The living room side of the suite hosted one sofa, which felt newly made, a cane chair adorned with colorful pillows, and a coffee table.

The flat-screen television on the wall showed a cable station, while a portable wet bar sat in the corner of the living room. The dining room featured a large table that could host up to eight guests. A shining chandelier dropped close to the center of the vast table. The bathroom had a large soaking tub, a walk-in shower the size of an apartment in Richmond, and a private dressing room stacked with white, fresh towels. In the bedroom was a thick quilted duvet. A dressing table supported a gold-coated dressing mirror.

A mahogany table and chair sat in the corner of the room. A balcony was just behind the door in the bedroom. A round table circled around two chairs, and the city's view was even more incredible.

I'd dreamt of going to the Maldives as a kid. I had a picture in my room as a teenager, but I'd buried my dream when I realized that I'd have to study hard to become a doctor. I'd become rigid and forgotten how much I wanted to travel the world. I liked to think Henry chose the Maldives as our honeymoon location randomly, but he wasn’t someone who did things randomly.

He was intentional about everything, which built my first attraction for him. “How did you know I love the Maldives?”

I placed my head on his chest, tired from our long trip.

“I’m very good at anything I do.” Henry kissed my hair. “I just happen to know a lot about the woman I’m with.”

Despite my “research”, it hit me that I knew little about Henry or his childhood. I'd relied on my private investigator and a few talks with Mrs. Robinson. But Henry seemed to know the littlest detail about me; it spawned a tingling emotion of guilt in my body.

“Did you have a favorite sport as a kid?” I started a conversation about Henry's childhood. I hoped it would give me a clue about him.

Henry sat up on the bed, resting against headboard. Now, my head was in his lap, while his hands gently stroked my hair.

Henry's wide smile told me he had found the question quite intriguing, and I shared interest. "I loved soccer as a kid." Henry's eyes became dreamy as if lost in the blissful childhood memory.

“The only thing I ever loved more than soccer is you.” He pushed my hair behind my back.

“Why did you stop playing?”

“Mother thought I wasn’t serious about life,” Henry replied. “She wants me to become reserved and articulate like Troy.”

“Did it work?”

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