“Amalie. You can’t—” Armstrong tries to sit up, but he doesn’t seem to be able to coordinate the movement.
“Shut up. Just shut the fuck up. I’m not done.” When he remains silent she continues. “The fact that you wanted me to act like your virgin bride every time we had sex was demeaning and I’ve been faking my orgasms for months. Also, your penis is small. It’s the smallest penis I’ve ever ridden. Or tried to ride. In fact, half the time I wasn’t even sure you were in. And you’re a premature ejaculator. I hope Brittany and whoever else you put your dick in enjoy their two minutes of humping followed by your horrifying orgasms. Let’s go, Lex.”
“Sure thing.”
She breezes past me, her hands curled into fists, eyes on fire.
Armstrong pushes to a sitting position and tries to stand, but he can’t seem to manage getting off his ass. His voice is a low, barely audible rasp. “You bastard. You set me up.”
“That would be very convenient for you, and even if it was true, which it’s not, you screwed yourself, not me. Thanks for fucking up, though. I knew you’d never be able to keep her. And it sure makes it a lot easier for me to be the good guy.”
Amalie honks the horn and I flip Armstrong the bird before I turn around and walk back to the golf cart.
I drop into the driver’s seat. “You okay?”
“I don’t have an answer for that question.”
“Let’s get you out of here.” I put the cart in reverse and turn us around.
Just as we’re about to pull away, Armstrong makes it to the door, still cupping his balls. “Amalie, please! We can work this out. You can’t have her, Lex!”
“I hope your dick is broken forever!” Amalie shoots him the double bird as we zip down the path. She drops her head against the back of the seat as we disappear around a corner. “If I never see his face again it’ll be too soon.”
Amalie helps transfer her bags to the back of the jeep even though I tell her I can manage. I’m glad Armstrong hasn’t followed us out to the lot. I don’t want him to say anything else that could give Amalie the wrong impression. Once the bags are loaded, we get in the jeep and leave the resort lot. I remind myself that right now she needs a friend, and I’m literally the only person she has access to. I can definitely understand how Armstrong might assume I set this entire thing up. If I were him that’s exactly the conclusion I would’ve come to as well. Hell, even my brother thought the same thing.
Amalie pulls her hair up into a high ponytail to keep it from whipping her in the face. “How is this my life?”
“Wanna talk about what happened?”
She sighs and drops her head back against the seat, staring up at the sky for a few long moments before she finally says. “The Whore-ton blow job wasn’t an isolated incident. I think he’s been cheating on me this whole time.”
“Did he admit to that?” I don’t want to push for information she doesn’t want to give, but I’d like some insight as to what exactly happened to make her call me. Considering Armstrong’s history of screwing around with the girls I was seeing in the past, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to believe he’s been cheating on her right from the start. He doesn’t seem to have a moral compass of any kind when it comes to relationships.
Her sunglasses don’t hide the tear tracking down her cheek. She swipes at it with frustration. “He said he hasn’t slept with anyone but me since we’ve been together. Or kissed anyone. He also said blow jobs don’t qualify as cheating.”
I grip the wheel tighter, fighting the urge to hit the brakes, turn the jeep around, and finish kicking his ass. “He actually said that? Those are the words he used?”
“Yes. Those are the words. He made it seem like I should expect him to have women on the side. Actually, he implied multiple women. Mistresses in fact. Plural. That it’s just part of how things are and I should be fine with it. What’s wrong with him? What’s wrong with me that I didn’t even know? How could I be blind to the fact that he was screwing around with other women?”
I choose my words carefully. “Armstrong has always been very adept at manipulating situations, Amalie. He’s also good at spinning things in ways that suit him, and he’s very used to getting what he wants.”
“How does one convince himself that a blow job isn’t cheating?” she scoffs.
“I’m sure in his head his argument was convincing.”
Amalie rubs her eyes. “This is such a mess. I don’t understand how he managed to get a passport so quickly.”
“The Mooreheads have connections at the US embassy.” I know this because Griffin had to use them thanks to a lost passport in London last year. It was the same time Bane lost his phone and iPad. That trip was a nightmare.
“Of course they do. I wonder which woman is on his BJ list over there.” She makes an annoyed sound. “I’m so sorry I dragged you into this again, Lexington.”
“Don’t apologize. I got to punch my cousin more than once, and in the dick. It’s probably going to be the highlight of this trip.”
That gets a weak laugh out of her. “Same for me. I can’t believe I did that. I mean, kneeing someone in the balls I get, but I punched him. Hard.”
“Lot of gratification in that, huh?”
“I should feel some kind of remorse, but I really don’t.”
“Same.”
It doesn’t take long to get back to my resort. I park near the concierge and motion to the bungalows on stilts out on the water. “You have two options, you can either stay out there, or in one of the beachfront villas.”
“This is where I wanted to stay when we booked the trip.” She jumps down and closes the door. “Where are you?”
I nod toward the water. “I’m out there.”
“Would it be okay if I stay there, too?”
For a split second I think she means that she wants to stay with me. Which would not be a good idea at all. I am well aware that if she stays in my bungalow I will most definitely fuck her. She’s too much of a temptation and I’m compelled to flirt with her. She’s also under far too much emotional stress and much too vulnerable to make good decisions, and I sure as hell don’t want to end up as a bad one.
I must be silent for too long, because she looks away and fidgets with her purse strap. “You don’t have to entertain me or anything. I know you’re here to work. I won’t be a problem. Just . . . in case Armstrong tries to find me, or wants to talk again, I’d feel safer knowing you were close.”
“It’s fine. And it’s exactly what I was thinking, about you being safe, I mean. Although, I don’t know how much I actually have to worry since you seem to be able to defend yourself fairly well.”
She smiles and ducks her head as we cross the lot to check her in at the concierge. “I had to take self-defense courses as part of a punishment when I was a teenager. Turns out I actually liked them.”
“As punishment? What the hell did you do that would make self-defense classes a punishment?”
“It’s a long story. One I don’t usually tell unless I’m really drunk.”