AN: 5 hours left ! I live on the West Coast :( I let a friend read this chapter and she said it needed more honeymoon-ish stuff. So here ya go.. :)
"Michael and Nikita Lawson?" Their attendant patiently glanced at the beaming couple, then back at the computer's glowing screen.
Smiling slightly, Nikita leaned against Michael's arm, glad that this employee was a man. Michael had already been hit on more times than she could count. Sure, other men were also throwing themselves at her but Michael hardly batted an eye in response.
"South Tower Presidential Suite. An assistant will be by shortly to escort you to your room."
'Room' was an extreme underestimation. It sat upon the hotel's top floor, overlooking the snorkeling lagoon and Pacific Ocean. The kitchen was filled with state-of-the-art appliances, each piece gleaming in the setting Pacific sunlight. The living room's glass doors were thrown open to reveal an enormous balcony, with two lawn chairs positioned around a tiny glass table covered in purple orchids. The entire suite was patterned in comforting shades of pale green and white, complete with woodsy elements. It wasn't just a suite, it was practically a villa.
Venturing into the bedroom, Nikita stood in the doorway, eyes wide open in shock. An enormous four-poster bed paneled in teak dominated the space, white gauzy curtains tied back to reveal orchid petals scattered in a heart on the bed. It didn't stop there. A bottle of champagne was chilling in an ice bucket; a platter of chocolate-dipped fruit sitting next to it. Through the bathroom door, she spotted dozens upon dozens of candles positioned across the vanity, throwing fantastic glimmering shadows onto the marble walls. She swallowed hard. Why Percy, why? She demanded silently, fists clenching.
Michael sauntered in, unaffected by the magnificence splayed in front of him. Rolling their suitcases into the closet, he ventured back out, trademark smirk on his lips.
"Perks to being vice president at the firm."
She smiled, aware of his underlying meaning. Raising an accusing eyebrow, she pointed her finger at the bed. "You did this?"
His lips twitched slightly. "The 'make room for romance' package." Leaning in, he whispered delicately into her ear. "Remember what happened on our last night in Italy?"
Her mouth curled into a snarl, remembering how she had tried to tempt him. Growling inaudibly, she resisted the urge to sucker punch him. "You wouldn't."
Smiling wickedly, he leaned in, brushing his lips against hers. Her bearing automatically softened and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Oh, I would," he breathed against her trembling lips.
"Welcome to Brown's Beach House Restaurant. I'm Cathy; I'll be your server for this evening. Are you ready to order?" Their waitress beamed, flashing Michael a dazzling smile. Nikita ground her teeth in frustration. He was hers. Well—at least for two weeks he was.
Politely brushing away her advances, Michael ordered for himself and Nikita, shooting her a subtle wink. After Cathy left—disappointed—Michael slid his hand across the table, clasping Nikita's.
Their table had been specifically selected by Michael. It was on the outermost edge of the terrace, slightly removed from the rest of the diners. Due to the proximity with the ocean, the roar of the crashing waves was loud enough to deter anyone from eavesdropping.
"Yes, hubby?" she teased, her grin dimpling her cheeks.
"Focus for a second, Nik," he chided. "Victoria and Austin will be checking in tomorrow. We'll plant the bait then, okay?"
"Fine," she sighed. "Do you have the itinerary?"
"Birkhoff sent it to me while we were on the plane," he replied. "You're going to sign up for hula dancing and I'll be golfing with him."
She rolled her eyes. "Ick. Hula dancing."
He shook a finger at her. "Hey, don't judge a book by its cover. Maybe it'll be fun. Or…maybe it'll just be a complete disaster. One of the two."
She smacked him on the arm, subtly adding more force than necessary. "Don't make me start a lovers' quarrel over my hula dancing skills."
Glancing up, she immediately snatched at her napkin, dabbing it across her lips. "Target, 5 o'clock," she coughed delicately.
Victoria Aston and Austin Greene were standing at the podium talking with the maitre'd. Actually, arguing was a better word. Victoria seemed incredibly irritated, her sea-green eyes were narrowed and her mouth was carved into a sneer. Immediately, Nikita felt a strong dislike toward the younger woman. However, she sympathized with her target's other half, who was standing slightly behind Victoria, his eyes cast away as though he was embarrassed by his lover.
As a waiter led them to their table—which was situated right behind Michael and Nikita's—Austin shot the maitre'd an apologetic look, mouthing I'm sorry.
Michael and Nikita subtly observed the couple through their strained meal. Victoria was constantly in control of their conversation, frequently cutting across Austin. When their waiter appeared, Victoria ordered for both of them…it was considerably less cute and definitely not as romantic as Michael's sweet gesture.
Nikita frowned, confused over the couple. The way Amanda and Birkhoff had described them, Nikita had surmised them to be massive partiers and beyond sappy in their love. However, the word love could hardly have been applied to their current situation. Victoria was sitting ramrod straight and her cold blue eyes were narrowed scornfully at Austin.
Disgusted, Nikita finally reached forward, grabbing Michael's hand. "I'm so full, honey. Let's go for a walk."
Nodding, Michael dropped his napkin onto the table and called their waiter.
"Yes sir?" Cathy asked, her eyes momentarily lit up with hope.
Handing her his room key, Michael stood, pulling Nikita up with him. "Charge it to our room."
Towing her away from an obviously irritated Cathy, Michael slid his arm around Nikita's waist, dragging them down the steps onto the powder-white sand of the beach. From the corner of her eyes, Nikita could barely make out Austin's eyes snapping up, gazing at them. Abruptly, Victoria's harsh words barraged him and he turned reluctantly back to her.
Once they had journeyed past the many other honeymooning couples and giggling tourists, they released the other's hands, not having to keep up the façade anymore. Immediately Michael missed the soft, warm touch of her skin against his, but he kept his mouth clamped shut in case he blurted out anything rash.
"I thought they were coming tomorrow?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Guess not. Did you see anything weird?"
Nikita shot me an incredulous look. "Weird? They're the worst honeymooning couple I've ever seen. For God's sake, we're better than them."
She crossed her arms tightly across her chest, staring blankly out at the sea. "It just doesn't seem right."
The ominous-looking clouds partially shielding the moon seemed to agree with her.
Nikita emerged from the shower, luminous skin glowing from the steaming spray. Shrugging into a fluffy cotton robe, she ventured out of the bathroom to see Michael standing on the balcony, popping open the bottle of champagne. The tray of fruit sat next to him, adorned with a bundle of red hibiscus.
"You're really doing this?" she asked, whisking the screen door open.
"Doing what?" he replied, pouring out two glasses. He handed her one, clinking his flute against her. Leaning around her, he grabbed a flower, tucking it into her hair.
" 'Making room for romance' ", she said, popping a chocolate-covered strawberry into her mouth and taking a sip.
"Well why not? We're on our honeymoon, sweetie." He extended one arm and she stepped into his embrace, rolling her eyes at the nickname.
The moon was enormous, throwing silvery beams onto the lanai. Their entire balcony was bathed in gleaming light, the rolling waves of the ocean singing a gentle lullaby to them. She sighed softly into his neck, feeling his warm breath caress her hair. She didn't know how long they stood there before Michael spoke, his husky voice breaking the comfortable silence.
"Nikki—" he started.
Breaking away from him, she cocked an eyebrow, setting her glass down. "You're really going to bring this up again?"
"You know that we have to talk about…it."
"Well, we can talk about it later," she said firmly, turning away and entering their bedroom. Michael followed her into their walk-in closet, where she plopped down onto the ground. Unzipping her suitcase, she pulled him next to her, pointing to the assortment of skimpy lace and satin lying inside.
"Pick one."
Michael groaned silently, watching her drape Amanda-selected sleepwear onto the ground next to his feet. Nikita smirked at him, straightening up. "Hurry up."
"Why Nik?" he swallowed, already imagining her in the vast collection lying before him.
"I'm making room for romance."
"Fine, fine. I pick the one that covers the most."
Grinning slyly, she motioned for him to turn around. When he made a complete 360, she was already clad in a black satin slip. Turning away from his awestruck gaze, she pulled back the covers on their bed, the orchid petals fluttered to the ground. She hopped onto the bed, patting the spot next to her, smiling wickedly. He pulled off his shirt and clambered up next to her. Immediately she nestled into his arms, planting a kiss on his cheek. In a surprise move, he launched himself forward, wrapping his hands around her biceps and pressing her into the mountain of pillows.
"Why are you doing this to me?" he asked in a strangled voice.
She burrowed herself closer to him and placed her lips against his ear, whispering breathily. "Because payback's a bitch."
Groaning aloud, he released her and she rubbed at her arms, wincing at the prickle of blood flowing back through her veins. Rolling over, he buried his face into the pillow, back to her. She could see every distinct muscle in his back tensed. Even though this was the reaction she was expecting, it wasn't as satisfying as she had anticipated it to be. Sighing, she leaned forward, laying one arm on his shoulder. He flinched at her touch.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, before pressing a kiss to his cheek. Turning away, she faced the wall, embarrassment flooding through her once again. A warm hand suddenly brushed across her palm before it enclosed her hand and she felt the heat of his bare chest pressed against her back. Spinning around, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her face against his cheek.
"You forgive too easily."
"It's our honeymoon. I'm supposed to give in if we fight."
Leaning forward, he pressed his lips softly against hers. When their lips finally broke apart, they both knew. The line in the sand, the forbidden barrier, had finally been crossed.