Betrayal by Aleatha Romig

the cooking. It all came from the dining room. However, I did choose the menu,” she said confidently. “I do hope you enjoy seafood.”
    “I do.”
    My mystery man began to pour a light-colored wine into my glass. It was then I noticed the bucket with ice beside the table and the private pool on the other side of the partition.
    “It’s a chardonnay.” He lowered his voice. “I know we’re in California, but I’m partial to this label. It’s from the Burgundy region of France. Just don’t tell anyone I’m not supporting local wineries.”
    “I promise,” I said, leaning forward. “Your secret is safe with me.”
    I saw his gaze lower toward my breasts. But instead of calling him out or covering myself, I remembered my invisible bracelet and sat tall, leaving the V of my dress in full view. I’d never been a fan of my breasts. For most of my teenage years they didn’t exist. And then one day, my B-cups overflowed. I truly don’t know what happened—genetics or hormones. Whatever it was, my B’s became D’s. I didn’t know what to do with them and complained that they made me look heavy. Again, it was Chelsea who told me to embrace them. She promised that the doors my education and intelligence didn’t open would be flung open by my girls standing proudly at attention on my chest.
    I lifted the glass and took a sip of the wine. The flavor was crisper than other chardonnays I’d had. “I like it,” I exclaimed. “It’s crisp, not as sweet as others.”
    His pale eyes relaxed. “I knew my wife would have a discerning palate, or is it your tongue?”
    While I struggled with the appropriate response, Mrs. Witt came back, filling the silence and leaving me with my mystery man’s suggestive smile. She placed a tray of cheese, olives, and crackers on the table and just as quickly disappeared, leaving us alone.
    “Thank you, again,” I said, “for saving me from Max.”
    “So that’s what he’s calling himself this week.”
    I motioned around the patio. “Is this what you do? You save women from the resort leeches and lure them to your lair?”
    “My lair? Am I Batman?”
    “Are you? I don’t know.”
    He smirked. “If only I could make a living at doing just that, but alas, no. You’re my first rescue.”
    I stopped my reach for a piece of cheese and looked back up at him. “Your first?”
    “My first rescue,” he clarified. “Hardly my first .”
    “Why?”
    He lifted his glass toward me in a toast. After I lifted mine, he said, “To you, Charli with an i , and to learning more about you.”
    After our glasses clinked and we both took a sip, I asked the question that I’d been dying to know ever since our morning encounter. “You seem to have a clear advantage. You know my name, but I’ve yet to learn yours.”
    “Do I?”
    “Do you what?”
    “Do I have an advantage?” He leaned closer. “Do I know your name? You see, I had the resort’s reservations scoured. I wanted to send a gift to your room and confirm our dinner, yet Charli was nowhere to be found.”
    I took a deep breath. “Well, I’m here with my sister. I guess my name isn’t on the reservation.”
    “Your sister?”
    “Yes, and you? If I were to have the reservations scoured?”
    The sun had now fully set, falling below the water and the darkening sky was beginning to fill with stars, especially over the water.
    “Would you believe, Batman?” When I didn’t respond, he said, “Bruce Wayne?”
    Though I pursed my lips, I felt the twinkle in my eyes.
    “Since I suppose you could have the reservations scoured, you’d have the advantage of being able to zero in on this suite.”
    Why hadn’t I thought of that?
    “But I’ll save you the trouble.” He lifted his right hand over the table. As I reached to take it, he turned mine and lightly brushed his lips over my knuckles filling me again with warmth. “Let me introduce myself. Charli, I’m Nox.”
    “Knox?” I repeated his name, more like a question.