1
When we arrive…
I glance over at Nicholas Crawford as we ride the elevator to the penthouse of the Wailea Lani Resort and Spa.
He gives me a wink. He looks excited.
I’m consumed by terror.
Nicholas Crawford is an enigma. I don’t know what he does for a living. I don’t know how he makes his money. I don’t know why he made me that offer. What I do know is that my desire for him is so strong it feels like an addiction.
The other thing that I know is that he likes to play games.
Not long ago, he sent me a check for almost one hundred and sixty-eight thousand dollars without leaving his name. It was only after I deposited it and paid off my student loans that he invited me to his home in Hawaii.
Then he made me an offer.
Spend a year with him, traveling, pretending to be his date, his girlfriend, whatever he needs, and in return he will pay me one million dollars. When I told him that there was no way I would ever sleep with him, he promised that before our time was up, I’d be begging him to do it.
His offer frightened me. But it wasn’t because I didn’t want to accept, it was because I did. Overwhelmed by feelings that I couldn’t handle, I ran back home only to discover that my mother had made a mess of her life, only this time she’d put herself in real danger. The only thing that would save her was fifty-thousand dollars and Nicholas sent me the money without me even having to ask.
Why did I come back to Maui?
Sometimes, standing still isn’t enough.
Sometimes, you have to take a chance.
Sometimes, doing something that scares the shit out of you is the only way to move forward.
I don’t know if his offer is still available.
I don’t know if I would accept it even if it were.
I don’t know why we are pretending to be Mr. and Mrs. Landon.
What I do know is that when he touches my hand, he rouses every cell in my body.
What I do know is that when he intertwines his fingers with mine, I never want to let him go.
A woman with a long mane of curls comes up to us. “Thank you for coming,” she says, shaking Nicholas’ hand.
“Albert Landon. This is my wife, Olivia Thom…Landon,” Nicholas says, correcting himself as if he had made a mistake using my maiden name instead of my married name.
The lies flow out so naturally, they feel like the truth.
Nicholas smiles at me, almost giggling, giving me a warm squeeze. We are supposed to be newlyweds staying at this resort for our honeymoon.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, I think we’ll walk around first,” he says.
“Yes, of course. The bar is right over there.”
Nicholas nods and pulls me toward the center of the room by my hand. Intimidated by all of the people in their cocktail attire and accurate life stories, I grab onto his arm and stay close to him. I want to ask him what we’re doing here. I want to ask him who I’m supposed to be even though we already went over this.
A waiter walks around with glasses of white wine. Nicholas grabs one for himself and one for me. Now, we look like everyone else in the room. The penthouse is huge with various seating nooks arranged just so, giving the place an inviting feel.
I rest my glass on a tall cocktail table, but Nicholas nods for me to follow him. We smile as we walk past groups of people sitting on couches and around tables.
What mesmerizes me most is the view through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the wrap-around balcony, which looks over the ocean. Water goes all the way to the horizon and I yearn to be out there somewhere, instead of in this room.
“This is my wife, Olivia Landon,” Nicholas introduces me to a group of people standing around a roulette table.
He thought it would be best that I use my real name so that I wouldn’t forget to respond when he called me.
Nicholas purchases chips directly from the dealer and places six of them just on the outside line of two rows of three numbers. The point of roulette is to place the chips on the numbers you think that the ball will land on and this way he is betting on the whole block of six numbers. The dealer spins the wheel, releasing the ball. I watch the board and other people’s bets. When my eyes return to his bet, all I know is that he lost some and won others.
“Oh, well.” He shrugs and repeats the process.
“So, where are you two from?” the woman standing next to me says.
She has big hair and long nails and a thick nasally accent. She’s also not playing and looks as bored as I feel.
“Boston,” I say. “We’re here on our honeymoon.”
This is only partly a lie.
“Oh, how wonderful! I’m Kathy. My husband and I are celebrating our ten year anniversary. Second marriages for both.”
“Congratulations,” I say, shaking her hand.
“We’re fellow East Coasters. We’re from New Jersey.”
“Oh, nice,” I feign interest. “I used to vacation at the Jersey shore all the time as a kid.”
“Really? Where?”
Shit.
I haven’t practiced this.
I’ve never been to the state but I try to remember a city that I heard of from television.
“Cape May?” I say, but it comes out more like a question than an answer.
“Yes, of course! Great place. We’re not too far from there.”
I nod, letting out a sigh of relief.
“What do you do?” she asks.
“I’m an assessment writer.”
Nicholas and I have practiced this. Just tell the truth, he said. You have an interesting job that you can talk about a lot and that’s exactly what we need.
“Goodness, what does that mean?” she gasps.
I laugh.
“Basically, I write test questions for all of those standardized tests that kids have to take in schools.”
“Wow, I had no idea that was a job.”
“Somebody’s gotta do it,” I say with a shrug. “I write the math ones.”
“Math?” She puts her hand over her mouth. Her whole body shudders. “I think I need another drink just to get over the PTSD that I still suffer from high school algebra.”
I laugh. This reaction is nothing that I’m not used to.
Most people hate math and they aren’t afraid to tell me to my face.
“C’mon, let’s let these guys play their game. Get a drink with me,” she says, tugging at my arm.
My eyes search for Nicholas’.
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.
“Oh, get me some whiskey,” he says, placing another bet. “You know what kind I like.”
My blood runs cold.
Though I may know math, I know nothing about whiskey. Not even a name of a company that makes it. But Kathy waves at me again and I have no choice but to follow her.
2
When he tells me the truth…
Kathy is talking my ear off as if we have known each other for ages. I walk up to the bar only half listening.
I’m not a very good liar and I do not think well on my feet.
My heart is pounding out of my chest.
I am cursing at myself for ever coming back here. To him.