HONEYMOON IN HELL
669 Words
[CHAPTER ELEVEN --- HONEYMOON IN HELL]
---
The soft roar of private jet engines hummed beneath Ruby’s heels as she stepped onto the sleek aircraft. She wore oversized sunglasses, a wide-brimmed hat, and an all-white travel outfit that screamed power and class. Royal trailed behind her, phone in hand, already arguing with someone from his company.
"Delay the campaign if you must, Marcus, I’ll handle it when I get back," he said sharply, his voice all ice and dominance.
Ruby rolled her eyes from her plush seat, legs crossed, sipping sparkling water. “Don’t you ever turn that off?”
Royal slid his phone into his pocket and sat across from her. “Don’t you ever mind your business?”
“Not when it’s ruining my peace,” she replied sweetly, smiling just enough to annoy him.
The plane took off into the skies, the tension between them climbing just as high. A five-hour flight in this silence? Torture.
***
Santorini was stunning.
Even if he was starting to realize… he didn’t want to fight her anymore.
He wanted to understand her.
And maybe — just maybe — protect her.
—
[AT THE VILLA]
Whitewashed buildings sat like pearls on cliff sides, overlooking turquoise water that shimmered under the sun. The villa the Kingsleys booked was a mansion in itself — modern, luxurious, with an infinity pool that overlooked the sea.
But it wasn’t the view that made Ruby stop in her tracks — it was the massive master bedroom with only one bed.
She turned sharply to Royal. “You told them we needed one room?”
“I didn’t tell them anything. My mother booked it.”
“Oh, perfect. Maybe she’ll send rose petals and candles next.”
“Would that make you feel better?” he asked, voice low and teasing.
Ruby scoffed and dragged her suitcase into the walk-in closet, slamming the door shut.
***
Day one of their “honeymoon” was spent avoiding each other.
Ruby lounged by the pool in a neon bikini, reading a fashion magazine, sipping cocktails and looking like the cover model herself. Royal was inside, locked in the office corner of the villa, catching up on business.
But he watched her through the glass — the curve of her body, the way she laughed softly at her phone, texting Leo or Chloe maybe. The way the sun lit her skin.
She was infuriating. But God, she was beautiful.
***
That night, Royal came downstairs, unbuttoned shirt and glass of whiskey in hand. He found Ruby cooking.
“You’re cooking?” he asked, genuinely surprised.
She turned, bare-faced and barefoot, spatula in hand. “What, think I only look good in heels?”
“I never said you looked good,” he said, smirking.
She tossed a pepper at him.
“Dinner’ll be ready in 20. You can either eat or starve.”
***
They ate in silence for a while until Royal cleared his throat.
“My parents like you.”
Ruby raised an eyebrow. “Should I clap?”
He leaned forward. “I’m just saying… they’ve never liked any woman I brought home. Not even Vanessa.”
A beat passed.
“Good,” Ruby said. “Because I’m not like Vanessa.”
Royal stared at her. “No. You’re not.”
There was something in his tone. Something… dangerous. But before she could respond, her phone buzzed.
A message from Clarissa:
> *Hope the villa is cozy. Remember who got you here, Ruby. Don’t disappoint me.*
Her stomach twisted.
Royal saw her expression change. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly, standing up. “Just tired.”
She turned away and left him at the table.
But Royal’s jaw tightened.
He wasn’t stupid. He’d seen the name.
"Clarissa."
And he was going to find out exactly what she had on Ruby… and why Ruby was always pretending like she wasn’t hurting.
But not tonight.
Tonight, he would let her have peace.
- Writer
