Shopping for a Billionaire's Honeymoon by Julia Kent

Author:Julia Kent [Kent, Julia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-01-31T05:00:00+00:00

Declan

I generally don’t strip naked when I’m angry unless there’s sex as a reward.

A massage has to do. Someone’s hands other than my wife’s are all over me, and I have to admit it feels damn nice.

Shannon’s moaning and groaning on her massage table, making it hard for me.

Just hard.

“Declan?” she says in a low, rasping voice, like a film noir heroine. The voice makes my throat tighten, like she’s lightly running her fingernails over my ass.

But with her voice.

“Mmmm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“We’re married.”

“Yes.”

“Forever.”

“Yes.”

“That’s profound.”

“Excuse me,” I say to my massage therapist, body tensing at the strange sing-songy way she’s speaking. “Is this massage oil entheogenic?” Andrew and Amanda drank wine spiked with hallucinogens. Maybe it’s a trend.

“What? No, sir. It’s jojoba oil with lavender. A little coconut. Does it not please you?” she asks, alarmed. “We can get entheogenic oil if you’d prefer. What is an entheogen? Is it an herb? A flower?”

“Never mind.” I settle back down. “We’re fine,” mumble into the face cradle.

“Declan?” Shannon asks.

“Yes?”

“Are you sure you made the right choice?” Her voice carries from her face cradle to mine, echoing oddly.

“Marrying you?”

“Mmmm hmmm.”

“More than sure.”

“In sickness and in health?”

“Yes.”

“In toilets and in tapas bars?”

“’Til death do us part.”

“You could have had anyone in the world,” she murmurs.

“No,” I reply, my answer stuck in the space between the ribs over my heart. “I couldn’t. Just you.”

And then she zones out, her light, steady breathing making it clear she’s relaxed, giving into the change of blood flow, her parasympathetic nervous system taking over as she trusts completely and lets go.

Someday I’ll know what that feels like.

Today is not that day.

My phone buzzes across the room, constantly vibrating against the dresser top, a reminder of a new business acquisition and parents who just don’t know when to quit. Isn’t the point of having children to raise them to be independent and to let them go? Dad says so.

Dad is a hypocrite.

I hid the truth from Shannon. Again. During those five hours she slept, I fended off more messages from Dad and Marie. Approved the auction bid on a signed piece of Yes memorabilia, handwritten notes from one of their first songs. Convinced Koshigiri to give me another phone call in an hour, and here I am, wrapping up a massage.

And Shannon knows about none of it.

Grace’s words haunt me as the massage therapist works on my neck.

I’m protecting Shannon. Not lying. There is a difference. A huge difference.

The outcome of my actions may be the same, but my purpose is different. Not telling her about Marie and Dad comes from a place of concern. Our honeymoon should be about us. Not them. Why bring her into their drama? I can contain it. Manage it.

Squelch it.

I open my eyes slowly as the massage therapist softly whispers that she’s done, her hands receding, the glow of the massage over. I’m tense but the hour of silence helped clarify what I need to do next.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing. I’ll read through my messages and then shut off my phone.

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