Chapter 50 – Forbidden Pleasures

• Always so cryptic. I put my phone on vibrate and slip it into my pocket, holding back from sending messages because—what does that even mean? Will he leave me here, staggering, every day?
• I walk through the service entrance door to the sound of Diego’s angry voice.
• “I don’t care what their focus groups have told them. This is not what my family’s business represents!” He leans back in his chair, rolling a pen between his fingers as he listens to the man on the other end of the speakerphone, rattling off reasons for the strategy—demographic data, the future, a successful Sandals campaign. Morning sunlight streams through the window, highlighting the golden-brown streaks in his hair. Diego’s face is stony, his jaw tense. And yet, he remains so beautiful, dressed in a simple charcoal suit, white shirt, and silver tie that all complement him perfectly.