Marx Girl

This is where Ben used to stay.

“There are three bedrooms downstairs and three upstairs, all with their own bathroom. The property is completely fenced off and secure, so just knock yourself out. There is a gym to the right as you go outside and the pool and bar. Do whatever you want.”

“What are the plans for today?” Ethan asks.

“Nothing,” Ben replies. “We stay in here.”

“Ben, I need some cool clothes,” I tell him. “And so do you. We packed for New York winter. It’s forty degrees here.”

He frowns.

“I just need to get a few things from the shops this afternoon. Everyone can come. We can show the boys around a bit.” I try to plead my case.

Ben narrows his eyes as he thinks on it.

“We’ll be quick, Ben. We’re in another country. Nothing is going to happen.”

“No,” he says. “The boys can go for us; you stay in here.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine.”

“See you later, then,” he says to the guys, and we leave to go to our villa. I smile broadly because this is the villa I always stay in. I walk straight into the large bedroom.

Ben follows me tentatively, and I can sense his unease.

“What is it?” I frown as I turn to him.

“I haven’t…” He pauses. “I haven’t been in this room since…” His voice trails off.

Oh… that.

“Since the night you broke my heart and left me?” I ask coldly.

He swallows nervously and shakes his head.

I throw my bag onto the bed and put my hands on my hips. I can feel my anger rise just thinking back to that night. I hate having that memory of him. “What did you bring that up for?” I snap. It makes me mad that I forgave him so easily.

He shrugs. “I didn’t, you did.”

I roll my eyes and begin to unpack, walking into the large walk-in wardrobe in silence as he disappears out into the living area.

I fold my clothes as I think. This doesn’t seem real, you know? Six weeks ago, I was dating someone else, and here I am, jobless and married to another man on the other side of the world. I’m on the run from two crazy, deranged spies who want Ben dead. I feel the anxiety flutter in my stomach. You think you know how your life is going to turn out. It seems I knew nothing of the sort.

I hear Ben’s voice out in the kitchen and I go to the doorway to listen. Who is he is speaking to?

“Yeah, arrived safe. Any luck with the code?” he asks.

Joshua.

Ben’s been distant since all this went down. I mean, he’s trying not to be, but I can see he’s clicked into work mode. It’s like he’s with me, but he’s not really with me. His mind is on his job. This is how he used to be when he was Joshua’s bodyguard and I was around him while he was working. I would only really get him to myself when we were alone after everyone had gone to bed.

I get to the little gold bikini in my bag and I smile. I packed this, thinking I would be wearing it in the hotel’s heated pool in New York.

Now I actually have somewhere warm to wear it. I smile broadly. A swim, an ice-cold margarita, and a deckchair, and I’ll be as good as new. I change into it and sashay out past Ben as he speaks. He turns, distracted, and then he catches sight of me. His eyes drop hungrily down my body as he sees me, and I point to the pool.

“If you need me, I’m catching some rays,” I mouth.

He smiles sexily and winks as he continues his conversation.

I walk out to the pool and dip my toe in. “Ah, yes,” I whisper to myself. “Nice and cold.” I dive in and swim up to the other end, and then back. I love this pool. Some of my happiest days have been spent here.

I float around for a bit and then climb slowly up the steps.

“Bikini small enough?” a man’s voice barks from the deckchair.

I jump in fright, but when I look up I see it’s Brock, my brother. He’s lying on the deckchair under the umbrella.

“What the hell, Brock?” I cry. “You scared the shit out of me.” I put my hand over my heart.

He chuckles. He’s in a pair of board shorts only, completely bare-chested.

“H-how long have you been there?” I stammer.

“Like, two hours. How did you not see me when you came in?”

I grab my towel and my face falls. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

“Stan called me, told me what’s going on.” His face falls serious and he clenches his jaw. “Where’s Statham?”

Oh shit, Brock’s angry. “It… it isn’t his fault,” I stammer nervously.

He raises a sarcastic brow and his eyes drop to my hand. “What’s that ring on your finger?”