Last night, after I melted like hot chocolate in Willem's arms, after I let him kiss me and touch me down there in the most intimate of places, I couldn't stop thinking about him.

My vagina— I honestly preferred the clinical term over a word like pussy, and yet, after hearing that word on his lips, my pussy wouldn't stop throbbing.

My clit had a mind of its own now.

My fingers were now inferior to his and rubbing one out in the middle of the afternoon in a bedroom that was almost too feminine for my liking, just wasn't working for me anymore.

Besides, Oreo decided that his new favorite spot was on that bench by the window, his face looking right at the bed instead of the gorgeous cerulean skies and indigo ocean below. There was something weird about my cat watching me masturbate, rubbing my clit while I occasionally squeezed my breast and pinched my nipple.

Yeah, too damn much heat for a cat.

In fact, I felt like a cat in heat, a leopard, and I just wanted to dig my claws into Willem and have him dig his back into me. I wanted him to mark me like I marked my patients before cutting into them.

Okay, that was weird.

There was a knock at the door and I immediately sat up, rearranging the bedsheet around me. "Come in," I croaked.

It was Filo.

She walked into my room pushing a cart of cleaning supplies. Her long salt and pepper hair was braided in one single braid that fell midway down her back. Oreo who had been chilling by the window, scurried under the bed, not used to any other humans besides my dad, myself, and our cleaner.

"Do you plan on getting out of bed anytime today, child?" she asked, looking around the room and then the spot where she'd cleaned up the broken vase last night.

"Yes, yes, I do."

But I made no move to get out of bed, stuck like glue to the high thread count and sheet fibers of superb quality.

Filo twisted her lips and low key gave me the side-eye. "I know Will made plans to have dinner with you tonight since he had to cancel yesterday, but you should do something with yourself until then. Maybe take one of the cars in the garage and explore the island?"

"Hmm."

"So all business and no play for miss Amelia Miller then?"

This lady had no clue what kind of precarious position I put myself in last night, did she? And all because I played too damn much. My first night here and I let my husband, who's very much a stranger, play with my clit.

And that kiss?

Yeah, exquisite.

For the first time in my life, I felt the many nerve endings in my lips come alive. Not bad at all for a first kiss where our tongues met and did that little dance that sent delicious shivers down my spine.

I wanted more.

Appalled at my thoughts, I jumped out of bed. "Where's Willem?"

"He left early this morning. Did you have a meeting with him?"

Yeah, last night in the kitchen against the cabinets.

"No," I answered. "Just wondering. I would like to take a walk around the grounds if you don't mind."

Filo smiled. "Of course, don't forget to wear a hat and sunscreen. The sun is blazing out there."

I quickly donned jeans and a thin white T-shirt while Filo busied herself making the bed. As soon as I stepped outside, wide straw hat in hand, the penetrating rays of UV-light kissed the melanin in my skin, and already I could feel a tan coming on.

Filo was right about the sunscreen, but of course, I was too stubborn to listen. The hat would protect my face.

Filo's garden, so named by a wooden signboard, was every woman's dream garden. She had everything from tomatoes to rosemary, and there were all kinds of flowers growing as well.

By the time I jogged around the entire property, I was sweating like a pig. I entered through the front door and ran smack into another woman, knocking a bunch of keys onto the linoleum floor. She swayed and I reached out to steady her short, thin frame.

The woman standing before me, single braids stretching down to her hips as she regarded me with quiet intent while dressed in overalls with dirt on her thighs, was exquisite in the most natural way.

"I'm sorry," I said, bending to pick up the keys and then handing them to her. "I didn't see you standing there."

"It's okay. I was looking down when I should have been looking up." She smiled and pocketed the keys. "You must be new around here. I don't recall seeing you before."

"Well, I—"

"You're the new maid Filo was telling me about, right? I'm Jessie. It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too, but—"

Jessie cut me off for the second time and I was forced to roll my eyes internally. I couldn't stand women who talked more than they listened.

"Filo really needed the help," she continued without skipping a beat. "She's getting old. I've been telling Willem to retire her for years. I'm so glad you're here."

"Are you related to Willem?" I asked. If the rest of the family was anything like this woman, I didn't want to meet them. And I probably wasn't going to seeing how weird things have been between Willem and me.

"Gosh no. I'm his mistress."

I'll be damned.

Why did that hurt so much?

It felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest and then thrown onto a gravel path where a tractor then rode over it, hot red blood splattering everywhere.

How could any man resist her?

How could Willem?

I tried to play it cool, but she must have seen the shock on my face because she laughed and it was magical, and then she patted my arm. "I'm just messing with you. Congratulations on your new job. Hopefully, Willem doesn't overwork you. I mean, look at this place. It's huge."

I was still staring at her, a frown puckering my brows. "Uh, yeah, thank you."

"I look forward to seeing you around. The island is small."

I forced a smile. "Yes, so small."

Something told me there was more to this woman than she was letting on. After she left, my mind went on a spiral. Had he ever touched Jessie's vagina? Kissed her lips? I had no idea, but for some reason, I could see it so clearly in mind. Him, her, rubbing skin, exchanging bodily fluids...

Those two definitely fucked each other once upon a time.

I was about to call my father but then decided against it for now. He would immediately hear that something wasn't right and I didn't want to worry him for no reason. This Jessie girl could just be a friend, after all.

Evening came and I went downstairs to have dinner with my estranged husband. I wore a silver gilded dress that accentuated my figure, and silver hoops that I've only worn once hung from my ears. The gold designs on the dress curved themselves around me like a snake and I felt like one of the most powerful women on earth in it.

Sex was power, right?

Not that it had ever worked for me before. I was utterly clueless in that department.

Tonight was the night for tough questions, and the answers, if answered honestly would either toughen me up or break me. Therefore, I needed ammunition to walk into that dining room with my head held high and to leave it the same way I went in there.

I approached the dining room, but then stopped next to the door when I heard male voices talking.

"I want everything to be perfect tonight, Francois."

"I assure you, sir. She is going to bite off her very own fingers once she has tasted the creole sauce I made for her. She's a big fan of gravy."

"Is she?"

"Yes, but she's not big on meat. So I kept it simple and will be serving fresh grilled chicken breasts with a little bit of mashed potatoes, and for dessert a strawberry cheesecake. Also her favorite."

I smiled. It was funny how Francois knew more about me than the man that I was married to for the past decade.

"You sure spent a lot of time talking to my wife yesterday," Willem said dryly.

"Your wife? Sir? I had no idea."

Francois's face and neck were probably as red as a lobster's. Too bad I couldn't see him.

"It's okay, Francois. No one else knows besides Omar, and now you. I'd rather you not spread the word around. I don't know if she's going to be my wife for much longer."

I leaned my back against the wall and closed my eyes, covering my mouth with my hand to stop any sound from escaping when all I wanted to do was storm into the dining room and give Willem a piece of my mind. The feelings coursing through me like waves in a microwave set at its highest settings were strange and new. But then again, not so new. I secretly wanted him to want me to be his wife in every way.

It appeared like Willem had taken one look at my face and then somehow decided that fighting for our marriage was pointless. I wanted him to want to know me, queen mother of cats, high school table tennis champion, and medical nerd extraordinaire. Just so I could turn him down in the end.

At least, that's what I kept telling myself, but deep down I knew that my feelings of wanting to be heard, seen, acknowledged, were genuine.

"But that's nothing for you to worry about," Willem continued. "Let's get this dinner rolling. She should be here any moment now."

I took that as my cue to enter the dining room. Four eyes took me in and each pair reacted differently. Francois's eyes widened before nodding once as he uttered, "Good evening, Amelia". His exit barely registered as my gaze locked on grey orbs so clear they seemed endless.

Willem took several confident steps toward me, his black suit well fitted over squared shoulders, his pants stretching over long legs. "You look beautiful, Amelia." Before I could say thank you, he leaned in and kissed my cheeks three times. "Kon ta bai?"

How am I?

I had to smile for several reasons. Number one, his accent in Papiamento, the native language of my dad and only spoken on Aruba and Curaçao, was adorable. Number two, I wasn't doing well. I had man problems, and the particular man in question was standing in front of me looking as dashing as ever.

So I lied through my teeth and told him that I was doing well. "Mi ta bai bon, danki."

With a slight nod of his head, he led me to the long and beautiful mahogany table that was able to seat twelve. His hand was warm and firm, and the calluses on his palms were probably from lifting weights at the gym. The brush of his thumb over my knuckles just before he let go to pull out my chair sent a current of heat through my entire body.

Suddenly, I was standing there, a lit torch, my cheeks warm, nipples hard and pointed, my very core on fire. I should have worn those nipple covers, after all.

Talking to Willem about his childhood was easy. He was forthcoming about his upbringing, mentioning that his dad used to be in the Dutch military and expected his sons to excel in every part of life. His mother, on the other hand, used to be a teacher and she wanted them to find their passion and give it their all, the rest didn't have to be perfect.

"What happened to your brother," I asked, putting down my fork, depriving myself of Francois's bomb-ass Creole sauce.

"He died. Cancer."

"I'm sorry for your loss. I was an only child, so I can't imagine what it's like to lose a sibling."

The light in Willem's eyes dimmed and I could tell that he was no longer here with me. Silence stretched between us and just as I was about to change the topic, he spoke up, his deep voice sounding gravelly. "But you've lost patients, I'm sure. And your mother's death was beyond tragic. I'm sorry you had to go through that alone."

I stared at him, swallowing the sudden knot in my throat. "You're sorry?"

"Look, Amelia, I know—"

I cut him off. "Can I be frank?"

He nodded, his face somber, and I couldn't hold my tongue for a second longer. "What kind of emergency causes a man to leave his bride two days after he marries her and then never to be heard from again? You saw first hand how distraught I was over my mother's death when we should have been celebrating our honeymoon, and still, you left."

Willem slowly wiped his mouth, looking uncomfortable in his seat. "We were strangers. Everything was happening so fast. I was twenty-one and still too young to fully grasp the scope of what taking those vows meant. My brother hadn't been dead for a year yet and I was still mourning him. And your father, he..."

"My father what?"

"You don't know, do you?"

I gave him a blank stare.

"I think this would be better coming from him."

"I can handle it. Tell me."

Willem pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "He told me to stay away from you. My only way of contacting you was through him and he made damn sure none of my messages ever got to you."

I shook my head, ready to deny everything. "But... your letter. I got it. He personally handed it to me."

"That wasn't my first letter to you. There were many others. I sent you several letters in the first six years. I never got a response back, so I stopped."

I scratched my head. "What changed? Why did he gave me this letter and not the others."

"I don't know. I may have threatened him." Just then I saw a glint of danger in his eyes that wasn't there before.

"You threatened an old man just to get a divorce?"

"I threatened him because he was keeping me away from my wife."

I stood up, pushed my chair back and threw my napkin on the table where it unceremoniously landed in Francois's creole sauce. "Oh please, don't act like you know what it means to have a wife. As far as I'm concerned, you waited too long to threaten him. I'm not your wife and you're not my husband. This entire marriage is a farce."

"Amelia," he said, his voice low and heavy with an emotion I couldn't place. "Do not leave like this."

''I never should have come here. I don't know what I expected, but this is not it. You can have your fucking divorce. I'm leaving you and this island as soon as those divorce papers are finalized."

Willem stood up, his demeanor still unruffled. He caught my arm and my body jerked toward him. "Listen to me carefully," he growled. "You will not disrespect me. Please sit down and let us discuss this like two adults."

I wrenched my arm from his firm grip and his pinky nail scored my skin, droplets of blood welling up. "Fuck you. Get your lawyer on the phone, asshole. And make sure he's a damn good one. I'm sure you don't want to lose half of your assets to a stranger. We signed a prenuptial agreement that I'm certain you're going to want to back away from considering this marriage isn't a real marriage."

I turned and walked away, tears streaming down my cheeks. I cried for seventeen-year-old me, the girl who believed in fairytales and happy ever afters. I cried for adult me, so lonely and desperate that she would settle for a man who clearly didn't want her because she still believed in fairytales.

🧚‍♀️

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