A Thousand Deaths (Sumettikul's Universe Three)

{2} I Must Misbehave More

I am suddenly very awake, my erotic dream forgotten.

“I was on my front. I must have turned over in my sleep.” I whisper weakly in my defence.

His eyes blaze with fury. He reaches down, scoops up my shorts from his sun lounger and tosses them at me.

“Put these on!” He hisses.

“Bible, no one is looking.”

“Trust me. They’re looking. I’m sure Chen and the security crew are enjoying the show!” He snarls.

Holy shit! Why do I keep forgetting about them? I grasp my dick in panic, hiding it. Ever since Charlie Tango’s sabotaged demise, we are constantly shadowed by damned security.

“Yes,” Bible snarls. “And some sleazy fucking paparazzi could get a shot of you, too. Do you want to be all over the cover of Star magazine? Naked this time?” Shit! The paparazzi! Fuck! As I hurriedly scramble into my shorts, all thumbs, the colour drains from my face. I shudder. The unpleasant memory of being besieged by the paparazzi outside BIP after our engagement was leaked comes unwelcome to mind—all part of the Wichapas Sumettikul package. “L’addition!” Bible snaps at the passing waitress. “We’re going,” he says to me.

“Now?”

“Yes. Now.”

Oh shit, he’s not to be argued with. He pulls on his shorts, even though his trunks are dripping wet, then his grey T-shirt. The waitress is back in a moment with his credit card and the check. Reluctantly, I wriggle into my white shirt and step into my flip-flops. Once the waitress has left, Bible snatches up his book and phone and masks his fury behind mirrored aviator glasses. He’s bristling with tension and anger.

My heart sinks. Every other woman and man on the beach is topless or pants less—it’s not that big of a crime. In fact we look odd with our shorts on. I sigh inwardly, my spirits sinking. I thought Bible would see the funny side...sort of...maybe if I’d stayed on my front, but his sense of humour has evaporated.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” I whisper, taking his book and phone from him and placing them in my backpack.

“Too late for that,” he says quietly—too quietly. “Come.” Taking my hand, he signals up to Chen and his two sidekicks, the French security officers Philippe and Gaston. Weirdly, they are identical twins. They have been patiently watching us and everyone else on the beach from the veranda. Why do I keep forgetting about them? How? Chen is stony-faced behind his dark glasses. Shit, he’s mad at me, too. I’m still not used to seeing him so casually dressed in shorts and a black polo shirt.

Bible leads me into the hotel, through the lobby, and out onto the street. He remains silent, brooding and bad-tempered, and it’s my entire fault. Chen and his team shadow us.

“Where are we going?” I ask tentatively, gazing up at him.

“Back to the boat.” He doesn’t look at me. I have no idea of the time. I think it must be about five or six in the afternoon.

When we reach the marina, Bible leads me onto the dock where the motorboat and Jet Ski belonging to the Fair Lady are moored. As Bible unties the Jet Ski, I hand my backpack to Chrn. I glance nervously up at him, but like Bible, his expression gives nothing away. I flush, thinking about what he’s seen on the beach.

“Here you go, Mr. Sumettikul.” Chen passes me a life vest from the motorboat, and I dutifully put it on. Why am I the only one who has to wear a life jacket?

Bible and Chen exchange some kind of look. Jeez, is he angry with Chen, too? Bible then checks the straps on my life jacket, cinching the middle one tightly.