Page 132 of Wounded King

The bedroom offers an oversized, oval bed, and the floor is made of glass, so you can lie on the bed and stare down at the creatures that inhabit the area underneath the water.

For several days, we go snorkeling and paddle boarding on the most beautiful, clear water imaginable. I watch parrotfish, clownfish, triggerfish, and even an octopus and several eagle rays. The reef sharks scare me, but Marcello assures me they don't pose any danger to us.

The island itself is only a few square miles wide. We walk the white sand all the way around it, several times, collecting all kinds of amazing seashells. The center is filled with coconut palms and tropical flowers. We discover a small pond and try to outdo each other in who will sight the most beautiful bird.

One night on the beach, we watch a handful of sea turtles make their nests in the sand.

"I wish we could stay here forever," I whisper, listening to the soft waves and the leaves rustling in the breeze further down.

"We can come back here anytime you want," he promises. We sit arm in arm on the still warm sand, our feet barely touch the water, just enough that now and then I feel a tiny octopus or fish gently nip on one of my toes.

"Promise?"

He leans over and brushes his lips over my forehead. "Promise, tesoro. Anything for you."

"You don't like it?" I tease.

"I like it because you do, but I'm not too fond of all the sand between my toes and in the bed."

I laugh, "That's your fault for not cleaning your feet properly."

"Hmm, I beg to differ," he mumbles, his eyes roaming the tree line. By the way his body relaxes, I know he spots one or two of the guards, who are occupying one of the bungalows and mostly keeping out of our sight.

"I love you," I can't stop myself from saying, because everything here is magical and my heart feels like it's going to explode if I don't voice some of my feelings. I'm not shy about saying it any longer, even though I know he won't say it back. Even though he insists he isn't capable of love, I know he does love me, which is all that matters.

As always, he stiffens slightly. I know the words make him uncomfortable, and I try not to say them too much, but in moments like this, emotions carry me away.

On the other hand, I wonder if I should say it to him more often; maybe that'll inoculate him. A slight giggle escapes me at the analogy. Like taking poison every day to make your body immune, but instead of giving him arsenic, I'll tell him every day that I love him.

"What's so funny?" He wants to know, leaning back.

"Oh, nothing, really," I giggle again. There's no way I'm going to tell him that I'm thinking about poisoning him withI love yousto make him immune.

A couple hours after we return from our shopping spree in Malé the next day, the first guests start to arrive by helicopter. Marcello pulls me with him to the end of the pier, and I have to raise my hands over my face to keep it from being pebbled with sand. Quickly, Marcello puts himself between me and the sand, making me smile.Yeah, you can't feel love, my ass, I think.

A man and a woman are the first to disembark, and they walk right toward us. They make a handsome couple, and by the way he slings his arm around her shoulder and how she leans into him, it's easy to see how much they mean to each other. The man is just as built as Marcello, tall, dark, and handsome, while the woman looks like one of those fashion models, with dark brown hair styled in gentle waves, currently being ruffled by the wind from the helicopter blades. Even from a few feet away, it's her eyes that startle the most. They remind me of the whiskey Marcello likes to drink. I don't think I've ever seen eyes like hers before.

The men shake hands before Marcello introduces, "Violet, this is Enrico Sartori and his wife, Catalina."

"Cat, please." She smiles at me, holding out her hand.

Her expression is open and warm, and I like her immediately. "The happy bride and groom are not here yet?" Enrico asks.

"They should be here soon, or they'll be late for their own wedding," Marcello smirks.

More men, guards, I assume—if this keeps up, we'll have an entire army here—disembark the chopper, loaded down with luggage.

"This way," I tell Cat, feeling a bit silly, since it's obvious where we need to go, but she takes it good-naturedly.

According to Marcello, she and Enrico only got married recently. A wedding that ended with a bomb hidden in the cake. I shudder, hoping nothing like that happens here.

Then I shudder again—this time at myself—for not immediately running for the hills after eventhinkingsomething like that was possible. I don't know what to say to her.I heard your wedding was a big… blast? Bombshell event?High-impact celebration

Yeah, probably not the best opener. So instead, I just smile and say, "Congratulations on your marriage," and hope she doesn't notice the hesitation in my voice.

She smiles sweetly, "Thank you."

Before we can say another word, a plane approaches.