Thrust Under

by Michelle A. Valentine

  I close my eyes. “No, Carter. You can take your offer and shove it right up your ass. The answer is no.”

  The moment he breaks away from me and slinks backward, I seize the opportunity to high-tail it out of the room. Leaving him standing there without so much as another glance.

  I race through the upscale lobby of the hotel, then out the revolving door, never slowing down until I come to the water’s edge by my family’s hotel. I fling off my shoes and seek comfort in the sea, attempting to wash all the desire that’s raging inside me from wanting to run back to Gabe and take his offer. Not just for the money but because of how turned on I am by him.

  I wade deeper into the surf, the black dress I’m wearing clinging to my body like a second skin as I dive into a wave and try to erase what just happened from my head.

  Lani had come in to work the front desk just before I left for my dinner with Gabe. That’s where I find her, playing on her phone, when I come traipsing into the lobby. She gives me a quick glance and starts, “Hey, Mags, who wrote the most number one singles after—” Doing a double take, she forgets about her trivia game and shoves herself up from her chair. Her features morph into concern. “What the hell happened to you?”

  I shrug one shoulder as I continue to hold the sopping wet hem of my dress around my thighs to stop it from dripping all over the floor. “Went for a swim.”

  Her dark eyebrows shoot straight up. “Yeah, I can see that. Any particular reason you didn’t change before you decided to dive in?” When I don’t immediately answer her, she folds her arms across her chest and twists her lips as if to say “you’re not getting away from me without an explanation.”

  I sigh, knowing I might as well fess up to where I’ve been because she has the uncanny ability to force me into telling her all my secrets whether I want to or not. “I was with Gabe.”

  “Gabe?” She draws out his name questioningly like there are twenty other men she knows with the same name.

  I groan. “Carter. You know, your boss. The asshole next door. The…” Man who only has to look at me to turn my brain stupid.

  Her brown eyes bulge as she claps her hand over her mouth. She shakes her head like her hearing is messed up. “Why were you with him? After the party last week, I thought you hated him?”

  “I do hate him. I think.” I keep the fact that my body craves him to myself.

  She rubs her forehead. “I’m so confused. Why would you be hanging out for late night swims with a man you think you can’t stand?”

  And here’s where it’s going to get fun. On my way out earlier tonight, I simply told Lani I had an errand to run. “We didn’t go swimming. We had dinner.”

  “You went on a date with Gabriel Carter, and you kept that shit from me?” It’s easy to see how appalled she is by the fact I’ve kept this from her. I typically tell her everything.

  “It wasn’t a date.”

  She rolls her eyes. “What do you call a one-on-one dinner then?”

  “A business meeting.” I consider my next words for a moment, and then say. “He had a proposition for me.”

  “Ooh! That sounds dirty. What did he propose? BDSM like in that book I sent you while you were overseas?” She waggles her eyebrows and I can already tell she’s about to make a joke. “I bet he has a baseball shrine of pain, and—”

  “Marriage,” I snap. “He asked me to marry him.”

  Lani bursts out laughing. Of course she would think I’m joking. Who in their right mind proposes to someone they’ve known for less than a week? “Good one, Maggie. Seriously, though, what did he want?” She’s still amused by the idea, but when I don’t crack a smile, her face grows serious. “Oh, my God. You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  I nod, scowling as the memory of my conversation with Gabe filters through my head. “Believe me; my mind was blown, too. I answered him with a hell no and then went for a swim to clear my head.”

  Lani rests her back against the front desk, puffs out her cheeks, and then exhales a wobbly breath. “Jesus, Maggie. Marriage? Wow.” She pauses and makes a face. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why on earth would Gabriel Carter do that? The two of you just met and it’s not like you made the best first impression.”

  She remembers me telling her about the champagne? I’d assumed that she was too tipsy to recall half of what we talked about last Friday night after we left Gabe’s party. She’s obviously thinking back on that story now because her dark eyes narrow skeptically.

  “Are you sure you didn’t fuck him? Because a pussy-whipped man will do just about anything.”

  “I swear Gabe Carter’s junk has never made it past his pants where I’m concerned.” She still looks unsure, so I take a deep breath. “He thinks I’ll be good for his image. That being married will make him appear settled to business investors.”

  “Business investors? He’s throwing up another hotel?”

  God, I wish. Then he would be taking his business elsewhere. “He wants money for a multi-million dollar addition. A five-star restaurant and luxury spa that’ll put him in every travel guide in the world. Sorry, Lani, but your boss is a real dick.”

  She snorts. “What an asshole. He’s an idiot if he thinks you’d agree to marry him to better his business.” Lani gestures around lobby. “It would sink this place.”

  “Exactly. It’s why I told him no.”

  “Good for you.” She nods to the wet ensemble I’m wearing. “Go get changed and then you can help go over the storm-preparedness plan. Category three hurricane possibly heading toward our side of the island.”

  Over the last few days, Dad has mentioned a storm coming in several times, but I didn’t realize it was supposed to be so bad. Storms of that magnitude rarely affect us directly, but we still get things prepped just in case when a hurricane brews out in the open sea. It’s a complete pain in the ass because it’s usually a lot of work for nothing.

  “Great,” I mutter as I head off to change.

  As if my night wasn’t shitty enough already. Now this.

  8

  Gabe

  “How bad was the damage?” Milo asks when I talk to him a few days after the storm rocked the island.

  The smart bastard had left Honolulu to visit family in Portland before Hurricane Laurie hit, and he won’t be coming home for another day or two. I’m silent for too long, because he lets out a heavy breath of frustration. “Fuck, Gabe, tell me it’s not a wreck over there.”

  “It’s not.” Spinning my office chair around, I peer out the window. While the sun is bright today, the first couple days of the storm were pure chaos. The cancellation of so many outgoing flights left us booked to capacity. With food trucks not delivering on schedule, and several of our vendors closing down to prepare for Laurie’s arrival, our kitchen staff had a hard time fulfilling room service orders, and there were many. No guest wanted to leave their safe haven when the winds were strong enough to whip them away.

  Somehow, though, we’d all managed and none of our employees or guests had gotten caught in that bitch Laurie’s crosshairs.

  “I really hate it when you’re so vague,” Milo complains.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “A few broken windows, but it’s nothing the insurance won’t fix.” This resort was not only a sound investment; it’s a structural beast. The damage on the outdoor cabanas and bar is so minimal I can handle it myself.

  “You don’t think it’s enough to hurt your chances with the investors do you?” he probes anxiously, irritating me. I can promise him a hundred times that everything will be fine, and he’ll still worry my goddamn ear off. “Believe me, Gabe; we don’t need any more shit from them. They’re cagey enough as it is.”

  “Like I said,” I growl through my teeth, my brows tugging together as I spot Maggie in the distance from my office window. “It’s nothing the insurance won’t fix.”

  Milo launches into telling me about a conversation he had with one of my potential investors last night, but my attent
ion strays to the woman at the other hotel. I haven’t spoken to her since she shot down my proposal a few nights ago, but I’ve told myself repeatedly that the hurricane is the reason behind her silence. It looks like she’s surveying the damage now, along with her mother, a taller man whose back is turned to me, and two contractors. While my resort had withstood the storm with barely a scratch, Maggie’s place hadn’t. From the way her shoulders sag forward in defeat, she’s getting dollar amounts now and it’s not good.

  “Whatever happened to that thing you mentioned?” Milo demands, breaking my concentration. I scowl in confusion, but then he adds, “The plan you were telling me about before I left?”

  Standing, I lean closer to the window, plucking the shades apart to get a better look at what’s going on next door. The contractors are getting back into their truck, and now the other guy has his arms wrapped around her. When he finally turns his head, I realize who he is. Ryan Iona. And he’s dressed in a goddamn O’ahu Elite shirt, the same crisp white polo that all my staff wears. I growl under my breath. He’s probably on the clock, wasting my money while he feels up the woman who’s supposed to be my fiancée.

  I fucking hate that guy, and I loathe him even more now that he’s got his hands on her. While I normally leave disputes between my employees to their direct supervisors, I’ve had to get involved in the past after Ryan fucked half the housekeeping staff and then moved on to our guests. I believe in second chances—I’ve had plenty of second, third, and even tenth chances—but Ryan’s on his last now that Maggie’s in the picture. She has to know what a piece of shit the guy is. After all, he was the reason she’d kissed me in the first place. Plus there was that angry look on her face when he called her during our dinner. There’s no way she’s falling for whatever bullshit he’s feeding her.

  “Are you still there or did you hang up?” Milo asks. “About that plan—”

  “I’m staring at her right now,” I grind out. He makes a confused sound in the back of his throat, so I shut him down quickly before he can bug me again about the investors. I don’t want to hear about them until I have a clear solution to the problem. “There’s someone I need to go see and then I’ll call you back.”

  “Did I mention how I really hate when you’re vague?”

  “And I really hate when you ride my ass, but here we are. Give me an hour, and I promise I’ll fill you in on what’s going on.”

  By the time I get over to Maggie’s, Ryan’s fingers are, thankfully, no longer attached to her back. He’s disappeared—hopefully to go fuck himself with a handful of sand. She’s standing alone, amongst the carnage of their hotel’s front entrance, her bottom lip between her teeth as she takes a break from dragging a giant piece of debris. The moment she lays eyes on me, every muscle in her tiny body seizes.

  “What is it now, Carter?” Her voice is so raw I stop moving. “The deadline you gave me passed, so why are you here?”

  “Why do you think I’m here?” Before she can mouth off and tell me to go away, I grab what’s left of the Bungalow’s sign from her hands, hoisting it high above my head. “I came to help you. Now … where do you want it?”

  Placing one hand on a curvy hip, she raps her fingertips against the frayed denim of her cutoff shorts and lowers her eyes to the ground. “You really don’t have to do this.”

  “I’m not going to leave, so you might as well tell me. Unless you want me to stay longer, that is.” That does the trick. Making a face, she lifts her hand and jabs a finger in the direction of several other pieces against the right side of the building. I take it over and toss it on top of the pile, then turn back toward her. “What else do you need me to do?”

  Her head pops up and her full lips drop open in surprise, but she quickly snaps them shut, shaking her head. “Why?”

  Walking past her, I grab a jagged board from the pavement and take it over with the rest. I face her and laugh at her blank expression. “Because that’s what neighbors do, Maggie.”

  “You’re not going to gloat?”

  “And what exactly do you think I’m going to gloat about?”

  “Are you kidding?” She stretches her arms out and looks all around us. Thinning my lips into a fierce scowl, I just stare at her until she rips her eyes from mine and folds her arms over her chest. She sucks on her lower lip and scuffs her running shoes together. “You know what, I’m sorry. That was bitchy and uncalled for.”

  “It was,” I growl, stalking over to her. “Open your eyes and look at me, Maggie.”

  “I can’t do this with you today.” She moves her head to each side, so I skim the pad of my thumb up along her cheek. She shivers. Clears her throat. And then, her lashes part and I’m staring into green eyes that are red from crying. My gut clenches. “Happy?” she whispers.

  “What do you think?” I press my forehead to hers. I’m shocked she doesn’t pull away. “You think I wanted this to happen? That I wanted to come over here to find that you’ve been crying?”

  She hunches her shoulders and sucks in her cheeks. “No, but it feels good to lash out at someone.” She squints in the direction of the Elite then releases a harsh sigh. “Since your building looks to be in tip-top shape, I can’t help but want to strangle you.”

  “That’s not very fair.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not in a particularly fair mood, Carter.”

  “What did they quote you?” I lean back and nod at the contractor’s card poking out of the front pocket of her shorts. She doesn’t answer, so I take a step away from her, plucking the card out in the process. Snarling, she snatches it out of my hand. Instead of returning it to its original spot, she balls it into a tight wad and tosses it on the ground.

  Hell, this is bad.

  “What’s the damage?” I ask softly. “I know another contractor who does good work for an even better deal. I can give him a call once I get back over to—”

  “No,” she croaks. “No!”

  “And why the fuck not?”

  She kicks at the destroyed business card and carves her hand through her dark hair. “It’ll still be too much.”

  She’s so defiant. It’s a turn-on and a curse, and I decide to teach her just how much that frustrates me once she’s mine. “How much is too much?” I demand in a firmer voice. “Don’t tell me to mind my own business, either. I want to know because I’m going to make that call.”

  She lifts her chin to look in my eyes and squares her small shoulders. “At least one-fifty. Maybe more, maybe a little less. We—” Her nostrils flare, and I swear she’s about to cry. Fuck, I won’t be able to handle her tears in person. After a long pause, she huffs out a breath and gives me a stony expression. “The insurance lapsed. We don’t have the money so we’re done.”

  From where I’m standing, I notice that her dad has driven his chair to the front door of the Bungalow. He’s watching us carefully, his face creased with worry. I’ve only spoken to Henry a handful of times, but I like him. He’s been a good neighbor and hasn’t given me any shit about purchasing the place next door or the parties that go on. For a moment, I feel like a certified dick for wanting to use this situation to my advantage because Maggie’s family is so nice.

  But, at the end of the day, my advantage is her gain too.

  “You know what you have to do, don’t you?” My plans for my hotel are in the millions—money that I need investors for because I sure as fuck can’t pull it off alone without personally bankrupting myself. Maggie, on the other hand, only needs one-fifty. I can do one-fifty without even blinking. She takes in the expression on my face and presses her fist to her mouth. “Look, Maggie—”

  “God, don’t say it, Gabe,” she whispers, shaking her head and backing away.

  I stop her, gently closing my fingers around her wrist, but she doesn’t draw away. Not when I tug her close to me or when that dick Ryan reappears from behind the building and shouts out her name. She starts to turn in his direction, but I cup her chin. I want her attention on me, not that lit
tle shit.

  “Why don’t you want me to say it?” I demand.

  “Because,” she murmurs. “I might say yes. I might—”

  “Marry me, Maggie.” She moans, sounding like a wounded animal. I never thought a woman would be close to tears just at the prospect of becoming my wife. “You’re wounding my pride. Would it really be so bad?”

  “I—” She whimpers again and licks her lips. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”

  “Then marry me. At least then you’ll know this will all be taken care of.”

  Stumbling away from me, she covers her face with her hands. It takes me a second to realize she’s moving her head up and down. “Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll marry you.”

  Ryan finally reaches us, out of breath and glaring at me. He can do it all fucking day long because she’s just given me the answer I want.

  “What’s going on here?” he demands, touching her shoulder. She jerks away from him and I grin. That’s my girl. “Maggie, is—”

  I speak up before he can utter another word, leveling him with a challenging stare. “You’re not on the clock are you?” I flick my hand out at his O’hana Elite attire—the polo and khaki-colored cargo shorts. “Because I’m damn sure you’ve crossed over the property line.”

  He plants his feet in a wide stance and a vein jumps in his neck. “I’m using my lunch break to help a friend.” I make a note to personally check the time sheets because there’s nothing I’d love more than to fire this dick. He strokes Maggie’s shoulder, and I feel a wave of pure joy when she cringes again. He pretends not to notice her reaction, furrowing his brow in bullshit concern and asking, “Are you okay, Mags?”

  “I’m … fine,” she whispers.

  “Fine?” I drawl, and her green eyes ping up to mine and go wide. “I’d say you’re better than fine, beautiful.”