A few minutes later, Nathaniel finally emerged through the door holding a grey golf bag in one hand and a book bag in another, not even glancing in the receptionist's direction. She was still stunned by my words; she couldn't utter one flirty remark to him as we left the building and headed towards the golf course.
"What happened?" Nathaniel asked, setting the bags on the ground before turning around and scoping out the area to make sure this was the spot he wanted. The entire resort was empty, which was, of course, his doing. I've noticed whenever he goes somewhere, he makes sure he's either in a private section away from the peasants or completely isolated like now.
"Huh?"
"You heard me."
"So, how long are we gonna be out here?" I asked, avoiding his question as I shoved the visor over my eyes to shield them from the hot sun. Just as he was about to speak, his phone rang, saving me from having to explain what went down in the lobby.
"Creed," Nathaniel snapped, popping his air pods in his ears but not before giving me a look, silently telling me that our conversation isn't over.
I smiled innocently and sat down on the fold-up chair that gave me a good view of Nathaniel and the entire course. He slid his phone into his pocket before pulling out a beautiful iron golf club from the bag. His shirt was so tight I could literally see the muscles in his back contract as he got ready to swing the club.
Nathaniel steadied his posture and dropped his shoulders, carefully eyeing the ball before striking it with one powerful swing, sending the ball flying into the air. How does he manage to make golf look sexy?
"Well, did he get the fucking paperwork done?" Nathaniel asked furiously, setting another ball to the ground and taking another powerful swing, not even caring where the previous ball landed. I'm convinced the only reason we came here was so he could take his anger out on innocent balls. Well, I still didn't understand why I was here, but I knew better than to question his motives.
For the next three hours, I baked in the sun, watching Nathaniel relentlessly abuse over 100 balls while ripping into every employee that worked for him over the phone. Occasionally a waitress would come out and bring us fresh cold lemonade and sandwich bites, which I gladly consumed. By the time it was nearing four hours since our arrival, I was more than ready to go. I could've been doing so many other things with my time than watching Nathaniel swing a club numerous times. Come to think of it, this entire trip, I haven't done anything work-related except check my emails from time to time, which got me wondering why he brought me along in the first place.
"Are you ready?" Nathaniel asked, turning towards me as he stuffed his air pods into the case.
"God, yes!" I sighed, ecstatic that he was finally off the phone and ready to leave.
"Here." He grabbed an iron golf club out of the bag and shoved it in my direction, waiting for me to take it.
"What am I supposed to do with this?"
"I want you to hit the ball."
"Why?" I whined, snatching the visor off my head and smoothing out my frizzy flyaways. "Can't we just go? I'm tired and hungry and feel like I'm going to die."
Nathaniel rolled his eyes and held the club out more. "You've been eating since we got here."
"Well, I'm tired."
"Hit the ball, then we'll leave."
"Fine," I huffed, snatching the club out of his hand. He patiently placed the golf ball on the tee at my feet and nodded, signaling for me to hit it.
Wanting to get this over with so we could go back to the estate, I raised the club and roughly swung at the ball, which made me lose balance, causing me to fall flat on my ass. I could've sworn I heard Nathaniel chuckle, but when he bent down to help me up, his lips were pressed into a thin line.
Well, that was fucking embarrassing, I thought, feeling my cheeks begin to heat up. Why do I feel nervous all of a sudden?
"Let's try that again," he muttered, placing the golf club back in my hands.
As much as I wanted to pound his head in with this stick for keeping me out here this long, I just nodded and waited for him to finish placing the ball down and signal for me to go. I nervously clutched the golf club in my sweaty palms and swung again with just as much force, only this time the club slipped out of my hands and flew across the course while the ball still remained untouched on the tee.
Fuck this dumb game.
I angrily threw my visor on the ground and spun on my heels, heading in the direction of his sports car without uttering a word.
"Where do you think you're going?" Nathaniel asked as he grabbed my arm the second I stormed past him.
"Home."
"You haven't even touched the ball."
"Fuck that ball and fuck this game."
"Try again," he insisted, grabbing another golf club out of the bag. "And watch your mouth."
"No," I shook my head. "I'm pretty sure I've embarrassed myself enough for today."
"We're not leaving until you hit the ball; I have all day," Nathaniel informed me, flipping his wrist to check the time on his gold Rolex.
"I don't see why this is so fucking important to you," I grumbled, snatching the club out of his hand and making my way back to the ball. As soon as I got ready to swing for what seemed like the millionth time, I felt Nathaniel's arms wrap around my waist, planting his large hands on either side. I sucked in a deep breath and internally screamed at my beating heart to calm the fuck down.
"Steady hips," he murmured, leaning forward and pressing his warm cheek against mine. His intoxicating scent immediately surrounded me, and it took everything in me not to take a deep breath and inhale the spicy fragrance.
"Legs spread," he wedged his foot in between mine to correct my pose, but that only made me want to squeeze them shut to relieve the pressure that was beginning to build up in my core. "Arms straight," he continued, trailing his hands down my arms to wrap his hands around mine that was gripping the club tightly.
"Now relax," he whispered, fanning his breath against my neck. How the hell am I suppose to relax when he's basically fucking me in the middle of the golf course?
"I am relaxed," I snapped, needing him to get out of my bubble so I could breathe. Nathaniel cocked his eyebrow and gave me a look that said, "Watch your mouth."
"Fine," I sighed, dropping my shoulders. "Now what?"
"Now, you hit it." He finally backed away, giving me room to swing the club.
"I hit it? Just like that?"
Nathaniel nodded. "Just like that."
"If I don't hit it, will you—"
"Just hit it."
"But what if I don't—"
"Anastazi hit the fucking ball," he snapped impatiently.
That was the first time he's said my name out loud since I started working for him, and hearing the way it slid off his tongue so casually created a warm bubbly sensation in the pit of my stomach. Shaking off the foreign feeling, I steadied my hips once again, eyed the ball, and swung as hard as I could.
I didn't even need to look down to know I hit the ball perfectly; I felt the difference in my swing and in my body as a whole. Maybe Nathaniel is good at something other than making me horny at inappropriate times. I watched as the ball flew into the air and landed directly in the hole a few feet away from us—a hole-in-one, as they call it.
Nathaniel stood behind me with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised, wondering how I made such a perfect shot.
"Beginners luck," I winked, shoving the club into the bag where it belonged. "Now, let's go."
* * *
That night, I stayed up tossing and turning in and out of sleep as my mind kept wandering to the event that took place today. Why did he make me go golfing with him if he knew I was just going to be watching him play and talk the entire time? Why did he insist on me hitting the ball before leaving? But more importantly, why was I letting this keep me up? Do I really care, or is curiosity just getting the best of me?
I just found it weird how he didn't bother speaking to me the entire ride back to the mansion, not that I wanted him to, but for him to force me out of the house just to hit a fucking ball then not speak to me for the remainder of the day was weird. But maybe I was thinking too deep into it.
Finally giving up on sleep, I whipped the covers off of my half-naked body and threw on my silk robe, sitting on the nightstand. The time on the clock read 4:34 AM, meaning I had more than enough time to prepare a cup of hot chocolate and relax my mind before coming back up to try and sleep again. I carefully crept out of my room, tip-toeing all the way downstairs and into the dark kitchen.
Feeling lazy at the last minute, I changed my mind and went into the pantry to grab a bottle of water before heading towards to back door where Nonna's garden was, only to be met with an unlocked door. My immediate instinct was to panic, but when I looked out the window that faced the garden, there sitting on the swinging bench that connected to the patio was a shirtless Nathaniel, wearing nothing but dark sweatpants. His dark tattooed body glistened under the moonlight, and his hair was wild and spiky as if he just rolled out of bed and walked right outside.
Fuck, how is he everywhere?
I stood there like a dummy contemplating whether I should turn back around or suck it up and join him outside. But what if he didn't want company? Of course, he doesn't want company, it's Nathaniel fucking Creed we're talking about, and the only reason I was going out there was to clear my head, which I'm assuming is why he's out there as well.
"Are you coming, or are you going to continue standing there like an idiot?" He asked, loud enough for me to hear through the half-closed door.
Asshole.
I rolled my eyes at his insult and walked out into the cool early morning, taking a seat beside him on the bench but making sure to keep a few inches of space between us.
"You're not cold?" I asked, crossing my legs together and wrapping my arms around my body in an attempt to warm myself up. He continued looking out into the night but shook his head, answering my question.
Stupid, he doesn't want to talk, I scolded myself before turning my head, acting interested in the huge potted plant standing tall next to the bench. We sat there in silence for a few minutes before it started to eat me alive. I had too many questions swarming through my brain, and I couldn't just sit here next to the person that had all the answers I was looking for and not ask at least one.
"Is it true?" I whispered, turning my head slightly in his direction but purposely avoiding his bare inked-up chest. If I looked at his tattoos, it would just create more questions, and I had more than enough occupying my mind as is.
"Is what true?" He asked, slowly turning his head towards me, giving me his undivided attention.
"Never mind," I whispered, instantly regretting my decision to open my fat fucking mouth.
"Speak," Nathaniel ordered, glaring into the side of my head.
"You not doing the deal with.." I trailed off, allowing him to fill in the blank before continuing. "Is it true you didn't follow through because of me?"
A few minutes passed by, and I almost thought he didn't hear my question until I saw him nod slowly out of the corner of my eye.
"Why?" I asked hesitantly, not wanting to overstep. He sighed heavily and began rubbing his temples before shrugging his shoulders lazily. I nodded and stood up to leave, knowing that I've overstayed my welcome. As soon as my hand touched the doorknob, he spoke up again, slightly startling me in the process.
"My apology was real," he murmured, looking down at his large hands. "In your closet, it was real."
I nodded again, taking in his shocking words while my hand still rested on the doorknob.
"Thank you," I finally whispered before disappearing into the house with a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips. It felt good to finally get closure on the one question that has kept me up at night. I could get used to this version of Nathaniel, but deep down inside, I knew it wouldn't last long. I just didn't think it'd be sooner than I thought.
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