I feel so sorry for Samantha. We all thought she hit the jackpot when she met Ben, which shows me how foolish we were. None of us questioned their relationship all the time they were together, even though in hindsight, she never appeared gloriously happy.
I always put it down to the fact that Ben was away a lot, and she was probably fearful that he wouldn’t make it back. Their life together consisted of endless tours of duty and many goodbyes. It must have been hard not knowing if he would be coming back alive, or in a Union Jack flag-draped casket.
I never for one moment thought he was mentally abusing her. Coercive control is an actual crime these days and yet, from her description, he is a different person entirely with his new younger fiancée. I hurt for my friend and probably for the first time, congratulate myself on my own choices in life. I never married and have none of the guilt or baggage that my friends appear to drag behind them like chains around their soul.
* * *
I reach my room and as soon as I enter, I wonder if I’m in the wrong one because it’s filled entirely with red roses.
I blink in surprise as I register the glorious blooms in vases on every surface. There are rose petals on the bed and a huge heart made from roses on a stand positioned by the window.
I am stunned as the powerful scent hits me, and the tears fall as I am completely blown away by such an extravagant gesture.
For a moment, I sit on the edge of the bed in a trance and then reach for my phone and stare at Omar’s number in an indecisive second before I press dial on FaceTime.
My heart flutters mercilessly as he answers the call and just seeing his handsome face causes the longing to shoot through my entire body.
“My darling, what a pleasant surprise.” He says in that husky voice that melts every doubt I own.
“Omar.” I smile nervously. “Did you send me flowers?” I arch my brow and he chuckles. “A few.”
I scan the phone around the room and then stare back at him. “Why? It’s well, a little over the top, wouldn’t you agree?”
“No.” He shrugs and as he pulls the phone back, I catch a glimpse of his tanned ripped chest in all its naked splendour and my mouth waters at the silk pants that hang low on his hips. It appears I’ve interrupted his sleep because he rakes his fingers through his jet-black hair and the stubble on his jaw is seriously messing with my libido right now.
His dark, sexy eyes gaze back at me sleepily and he twists his lips into a mischievous grin and whispers, “Nothing is too much for you, my darling. Let me spoil you.”
“Why?” I am genuinely confused because this is starting to concern me a lot and he shrugs, licking his lips before saying huskily, “Don’t question a gift, Ginny. It’s not good manners.”
It makes me laugh out loud. “There is usually an occasion attached to gift giving. What’s this one?” I say with a smile, and he grins.
“New beginnings.”
I settle back against the bed and drown in the vista before me. It’s as if every wish I ever had is being granted to me in this magical place and, of course, I doubt every sweet gesture he’s making. However, I can’t deny the attraction I have for this man and it’s not because of the gifts he is lavishing on me, and I say softly, “I missed you today.”
“Me too.”
He grins and I whisper, “How was your business meeting?”
“Routine.”
“Did you get what you needed?” I’m not sure why I am even asking, but I expect it’s to form a picture of the man who has crashed into my life so suddenly.
“I always get what I want, my darling. You will soon understand that.”
“Does that apply to me?” His words make me nervous because they imply he has yet to get what he wants from me, despite how freely I gave myself to him.
“Of course.”
“Then tell me.” I hold my breath waiting for the reason the genie from my Aladdin’s lamp is in control of my life, and he chuckles softly.
“You are curious, mistrusting even, and I understand why.”
“You do?”
He nods. “You are searching for a reason why I am spoiling you. An ulterior motive that would form the plot of many thrillers on Netflix.”
“Are you?” I grin and he laughs out loud, before saying in a sexy whisper, “I live a lonely life, Ginny, and I think you know a lot about how that feels. I move from country to country and never stay long enough to put down roots. I get my kicks from chance encounters and enjoy them while they last before moving onto the next one. I earn more money than I can spend, so I enjoy spoiling the women in my life.”
“The women?” I knew there was a catch and I feel like a fool as I face the conclusion that I’m one in a very long line.
“Woman.” He says huskily and whispers, “One woman at a time. No cheating and no messing around. I will not lie and say I haven’t slept with hundreds of women; I have.”
I’m not feeling any better about this, as he says with a sigh. “All the time they are happy I treat them like queens. It only changes when they grow tired of the nature of our relationship. You see, Ginny…”
He sits up, his back against the ornate headboard, and stares darkly into the camera.
“I am never around long enough to form a meaningful relationship. Women want more of my time, commitment, a family, and a ring on their left finger. I can’t commit to that, so I leave and move onto the next challenge.”
“So, it’s just sex.” I hold my breath and he says huskily, “Lots of it when we meet and, if you agree to my lifestyle, there are trips abroad, holidays and meals in the finest restaurants. It’s not always sex, but companionship too. Every date is treated like a first date and some women find that hard to deal with.”
He glances at the gold Rolex on his wrist and says firmly, “I need to sleep. I have an important meeting in the morning. We will continue this conversation when we catch up in London. If you agree to my terms, then we enjoy a satisfying relationship. If you can’t, we walk away with no hard feelings involved.”
“I’ll think about it.”
I say the words, but I already know my answer because who wants commitment, anyway? I mean, he promised never to cheat, so surely this is the perfect situation. A rich man who is everything I ever wanted, just not sharing my address and someone I don’t have to cook and clean for. I’m happy to sign up for something that has my demands written all over it and so I smile and blow him a kiss and whisper, “Sleep tight, gorgeous stranger.”
I cut the call before he can reply and smile to myself as I gaze around the room at the florist’s windfall. What’s so bad about this, anyway? It’s a gift that will keep on giving and I would be a fool to walk away from an experience I am never likely to forget.