Beautiful Sacrifice (The Maddox Brothers 3)

I readjusted my bag over my shoulder, descended the stairs set outside the plane’s front exit, and paused once my feet hit the tarmac. St. Thomas was breathtaking for more reasons than its palpable air. The landscape was full of lush forests with mountains in the distance and palm trees just beyond the concrete.

I pulled out my phone, shooting Taylor a quick text that I’d landed.

He sent a ♥ in reply but nothing else.

The passengers strode in a single-file line to the terminal where we meshed with other travelers until reconvening at baggage claim. I noticed a man standing near the exit, holding a sign with my name on it.

That hadn’t happened since I lived with my parents.

“Hi,” I said, confused. “I’m Falyn Fairchild.”

The man’s mouth broke into a bright white grin, a steep contrast with his ebony skin. “Yes! Come with me! Just the one bag?” he asked in a heavy accent, holding out his hand for my bag.

“Who ordered the car?”

“Uh”—he looked down at a paper in his other hand—“Taylor Mad Dox.”

“Taylor Maddox?” I said, my surprise making me unintentionally correct him by emphasizing the ix pronunciation at the end.

Shock quickly evolved into suspicion. Taylor was either trying very hard to get me back—or for some reason, he was in full groveling mode.

I handed the man my bag, silently scolding myself. Taylor had secured me transportation to the hotel, and I was thinking the worst. He just wanted to make sure I was safe because he couldn’t make it to the airport himself.

The driver’s steering wheel was on the left side, but we drove on the left side of the road. It took me a while not to panic every time he turned onto a road with oncoming traffic, thinking he was in the wrong lane.

After hills and many, many curvy roads, we finally reached the security gate of The Ritz-Carlton hotel. The driver parked under the covered lobby entrance, and he quickly hopped out to open my door. I stepped out and swallowed hard. The days when I’d stayed in hotels like the Ritz seemed like a lifetime ago.

The light stucco and Spanish-tiled roof as well as the vegetation were impeccably maintained. I returned the smile and wave of a man high in a palm tree, removing coconuts.

The driver handed me my bag, and I opened my purse.

“No, no. It’s all been taken care of.”

I held out a ten-dollar bill. “But your tip?”

He waved me away with a smile. “Taken care of, madam. Enjoy your stay.”

He drove away, and I wandered inside, overwhelmed by the spectacular lobby. I spotted Taylor right away. He was sitting in a chair with his elbows on his thighs, clasping his hands together, while his knee nervously bobbed up and down.

Before I could take another step, he looked up, and a dozen emotions scrolled across his face. He popped up out of his chair and jogged over to me, nearly knocking me over before enveloping me into a hug. I’d never felt so loved and wanted in my life.

“You’re here. Thank Christ,” he said, overwhelmed with relief. He tugged at me with gentle small squeezes, burying his face into my hair.

When he finally released me, I could see that my earlier suspicions weren’t ridiculous after all. His face was weighed down with something, the humidity not the only thing making him sweat.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said, trying not to sound as wary as I felt.

“God, I’ve missed you.” He hugged me and then kissed my forehead, leaving his lips against my skin for a moment longer. Then he took my bag. “We’re in building five, Club Level, with an ocean view.” He smiled, but there was sadness in his eyes.

“Club Level?”

“I upgraded. We’re in the same tower as Travis and Abby. The room is incredible. I can’t wait for you to see it.” He gestured for me to follow him outside where a man in a golf cart was waiting.

We sat together in the backseat, jerking when the driver stomped on the gas. Taylor looked over at me, both relief and admiration in his eyes. The golf cart sped along the narrow road for at least two minutes before we reached our building. Taylor didn’t speak again even though he looked like he wanted to.

The driver parked and carried my bag across the road and down a stone walk. We passed doors that led to rooms, moving to the side whenever a couple or family would step out, carrying beach bags, towels, or cameras. We ascended a few stairs, and then I followed the men to the room I would share with Taylor.

That thought made me suddenly nervous. We weren’t technically together even though it seemed all was well. An important conversation was inevitable, and I wondered if Taylor wanted to get that out of the way now or if he would keep me waiting all weekend.

Taylor took my bag, tipped our driver, and then used his key card to open the door. Fresh flowery smells filled my nose, and my sandals clicked against the tiled floor. The white linen and light décor was sophisticated but cozy, and directly in front of where we stood was a large sliding glass door, the curtains pulled back to expose the full beauty of the Caribbean Sea.

I dropped my bag. “Oh my God,” I said, my feet carrying me straight for the door.

Taylor beat me there, sliding open the glass.

I stepped out, hearing songbirds and watching the fronds of the palm trees dance with the breeze that were wafting the smells of the ocean to our balcony. The private beach of the Ritz-Carlton was lined with beach loungers, umbrellas, Hobie Cats, and paddleboats. An impressive sailboat was docked not two hundred yards from swimmers, white paint proudly marking its name, Lady Lyndsey.

“I don’t think I’ve seen anything this beautiful before in person,” I said, shaking my head in awe.

“I have,” Taylor said.

From the corner of my eye, I could see him staring at me. I turned to him, letting his milk-chocolate eyes take in every detail of my face.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I was worried. For several days.”

“I told you I’d come. You bought the ticket. I wasn’t going to stand you up.”

“After the other night—”

“You drunk-texted me. There are worse things—like torture, for instance.”

A crease formed between his brows. “It’s been a long week. I think I fell in love with you more every day. I guess there’s some truth to that saying.”

“Distance makes the heart grow fonder?”