Stupid? She got busted, but called him names? And fuck if she’d be getting paid now. “But you didn’t meet your objective.” Damn lady next to him was eavesdropping. Victoria was still with her sap husband, and he hadn’t looked much worse for the wear at the press conference when Gil had flown away last time.
“Let me put this in terms you’ll understand, Gil.” Peyton’s girlie voice suddenly sounded much older, more serious. “You are going to pay me the five thousand this week, and another five next grand month. Or I’ll tell the Grants exactly how I got hold of a web-enabled device and the WiFi password for the ship. Got it?”
Just what he needed. A loose cannon in the form of an emotional, horny, broke, immature college student. Not quite what he’d planned on.
Chapter 25
Brett put his arm around Vic’s shoulder, taking care with her sunburn. She laid her head against him as the helicopter became airborne. Almost home. They’d taken a private jet from San Diego to Salt Lake after one bitch of a day with the press, and only just rendezvoused with Gil here for the final leg of their journey.
Contrary to Mark’s opinion, Brett hadn’t noticed any malevolence from the pilot–a bit more frank interest in Vic’s ass than he’d prefer, but it was an ass worthy of interest. Even to a gay man. Gil had gone about loading their luggage in his normal matter-of-fact, almost too-patient manner, and given Vic a sympathetic smile upon looking at her weary face. No, he wasn’t too in-tune; he and Vic had always shared a sort of connection stemming from their mutual losses in that horrific crash. Not to mention, women simply interpreted signals better from gays, and vice versa. Mark must be…off the mark.
He’d not worry about Gil a moment longer. Vic was already sound asleep, and a nap sounded divine.
* * * *
“Vic, love. Why don’t we have somebody bring our bags up later?”
She stood resolutely waiting for Gil to unload their things, shaking her head. “I don’t want anybody showing up at the apartment with it later. I really want to just go home and relax.”
She had a point. Any employee would want to chat about the cruise, and probably give her updates on the resort’s performance in her absence. Vic certainly needed some downtime. So he waited with her for their cumbersome bags.
She’d held herself together like a champ today, but breakdown was imminent. How he dreaded seeing her fall apart. Her pain was his doing. Christ, what a clusterfuck. On their way to the Press Conference from Hell, he’d spied David at the Lido bar, talking with that fireman bartender Griffin. David had looked miserable, a healthy stack of empties on the bar before him. Brett had been torn between popping him one in the nose for all the trouble he’d caused Vic, and offering him a comforting arm and some mature advice about not letting happiness slip away, regardless of the cost. But who the hell was he to give such admonishments? He’d done a fair job of buggering his own wet dream of a marriage this past week. Besides, David deserved to be fucking miserable.
Vic, however, didn’t. He’d pressured her into things she never would have pursued, badgered her into taking risks, and look what it had come to. He should’ve been content. She’d healed after losing her first husband, and loved him. Returned to normal. But he must’ve wanted more, for some reason. Why?
He hefted the big bags, and Vic grabbed two small ones. Without a word, they started their trek to the main building.
Why was the obvious part. He’d wanted Vic wound up, crazy with the pleasure of her fantasy. So he’d meant well. But then David had happened along. David, who’d fitted seamlessly into their lives, was able to help clarify his and Vic’s feeling and thoughts, balance them without taking sides. He’d been so damned comfortable to have around. Fuck, after last night…his stomach fluttered, his balls ached. He’d considered doing more. If he was honest, he’d wanted to do more, with David, with Vic. A happy little trio, taking and giving pleasure, loving…
Which had clearly been their mistake–expecting David to feel any level of commitment.
Well, it wouldn’t bloody happen a second time. He’d kill another man before he let him get close enough to hurt Vic again.
At their door, Jake greeted them, jumping, slobbering, his tail wagging.
Vic knelt and gave him a big hug. Thoughtful of Roger to bring the dog back to the apartment so he’d give them a big welcome home. “Ah, good boy, Jake. Good boy. We missed you, too.” She sighed and looked up. “I bet he needs to go out. Could’ve been hours since Roger brought him home.”