He took the champagne flute from my hand and pulled me to my feet. I reluctantly rocked my hips, my cheeks burning with self-consciousness.
“Yes, you gorgeous minx.” He spun, his bare feet quiet on the deck, and I grew bolder as the song tempo moved into a rhythm I recognized.
I hadn’t danced in a decade and I laughed aloud as we grew closer, his hands roaming over my bare arms, my exposed back, then up the short skirt of the dress. When he unzipped the back of it, I let him. When he pulled me onto the front cushioned lounge, I followed, and he tasted like cigar and bubbles, and I kissed him deeply and let every worry in my body float up to the clouds.
I didn’t notice the dark figure a few boats over. I didn’t see the night-vision camera or feel the weight of observation.
I was 100 percent focused on David, and on my own pleasure, and it was that selfish focus that caused everything that happened next.
CHAPTER 32
LILLIAN
Come home asap.
The text was sent by Mike and accompanied by three missed calls, none of which I saw because I was swimming in the Ritz-Carlton’s pool, my access granted by a pool attendant I’d met in the marina’s general store. I finished my twentieth lap and treaded water in the deep end, then practiced holding my breath. I made it thirty seconds, then forty. Forty-two, forty-three ... My lungs ached as I burst to the surface and gasped for air. I treaded for another minute, then ducked underwater again.
It was a good day to swim. The marina-adjacent hotel was in the quiet transition time between checkouts and check-ins, and the only other person in the pool was a dark-skinned teenager floating in an inner tube, her head back on the cushion, mouth relaxed, clearly asleep.
I made it to forty-six seconds, then resurfaced, swimming to the side of the pool and pulling myself out. I grabbed the folded yellow towel and dried my ears as I returned to my chair, which was under a double umbrella, my piña colada turning soupy in the heat. Patting my face dry, I slid my sunglasses back on and reclined in the chair, humming along to a familiar reggae song being played by the steel drum band.
This was the life. I used to spend weekdays in traffic, dictating obituary lines while cursing out fellow motorists. Now I had a few chapters left to read in my new book, nothing to do the rest of today, and a wallet crammed with tip money. While my new life wasn’t intellectually stimulating, the break was nice. I could grow my creative impulses in other ways. Maybe I could join a Mensa club or do crossword puzzles. Plus, I reminded myself, I could always write that damn novel.
My phone pinged and I decided to ignore it. Mike was at work, Jacob was at school, and I was tired of Sam and his judgmental opinions. I lowered the back of the chaise longue and closed my eyes.
Ping.
Dammit. I groped at the side table—oh shoot, that was my drink—and found my phone and brought it to my face. Shielding the screen from the sun, I peered at the display, then sat up when I saw the missed-call activity and the texts—now three—from Mike.
Come home asap.
Jacob is here now.
Did you know about this?
My phone rang and I hesitated, afraid to answer it. Did I know aboutwhat? What was Jacob involved with? What had happened?
I took a deep breath and answered the call, wincing at the realization that “Three Little Birds” would be audible in the background. “Hello?”
“Lillian.”
In just my name, Mike’s tone, and the pause after it, I knew that this was going to be bad.
CHAPTER 33
LILLIAN
The platform of choice was TikTok, and the video was just bad enough to be crude, while not being so adult as to be blocked from the family-friendly platform.
I sat at our dining room table, Mike’s phone in front of me, and watched the video with horror. It was on a loop, the music and video restarting as soon as it ended, like a bad dream that you can’t run away from.
“The number under the heart is how many people liked it,” Mike said quietly. “The other figure is the number of comments.”
There were 72 likes and 104 comments. I clicked on the comments, and everything instantly turned worse. If a video was worth a thousand words, here they all were.
“Jacob has seen this?” I asked quietly.
“He’s the one who showed it to me.”