Snapshot (Lessons in Love Book 2)

Present Day

Miami

The Miami skyline is almost more majestic than Vegas at night. Not to be a traitor to my beloved home, but I’ve never seen a city like this, balancing right on the edge of the water. I like the bright lights of Vegas, but Miami has them, too, reflecting off the water and making its presentation a touch more impressive than Vegas. My eyes were glued to the view as I flew into the city, first class, a glass flute of champagne in my hand. Now, in the limousine, I’m seeing the same view from the ground, once again, with another glass of champagne in my hand. I’m learning that when you’re rich, every ride is basically a booze cruise.

Despite his best intentions, Dex couldn’t meet me at the airport. Duty called, and he had to take a last-minute flight to L.A. to attend to yet another pressing business matter. He briefly explained, but I was so busy assuring him I was a big girl and could handle myself, I didn’t catch the details of the deal he was working out.

Instead, a chauffeur in a cliché driver’s hat greeted me at the airport with a sign that read “Mrs. Hessler.” He ushered me into a limousine then proceeded to go back into the airport to fetch my luggage from baggage claim. I was a little embarrassed to tell him that my luggage was the big one with bright purple zebra stripes. I haven’t purchased new suitcases since my teenage years, and it was the largest one I owned. I shoved everything into it, all the necessities of my life condensed into one jumbo hardcase. I have more clothing, but nothing I own belongs in a corporate work setting. I need to go shopping.

While I may not particularly care about name brands and “looking a certain part,” I’m acutely aware of the fact that, as Dex’s wife, how people view me may be how they view him by extension. Therefore, the first item of business in Miami is to find some tops that aren’t so sheer and bottoms that aren’t denim with holes and frayed edges. I brought the few sundresses that I thrifted when I was with Alan. Those look presentable enough in the meantime.

Once the limousine is parked, I reach for the handle and yank on the latch to no avail. The driver rolls down the partition. “Just a moment, Mrs. Hessler. I’ll come around.”

Apparently, I no longer have the arduous task of opening my own doors anymore either. Once Jeeves—as I’ve dubbed him—frees me from the back of the vehicle, he points to the elevator behind us.

“This is a private access elevator that will take you right to the entry of the penthouse. The temporary override code is two-nine-six-four-eight-three. That code changes daily, so we’ll get you set up on the fingerprint verification system soon. I’ll bring your suitcase up through the service elevator. Would you like me to arrange for the housekeepers to unpack your luggage?”

“No!” I emphasize, my voice echoing loudly through the concrete parking structure. I clear my throat. “I mean, no, thank you. I have some personal items in there I’d rather, um…set up myself.”

He nods with an uncomfortable-looking smile.

“Fragile photographs and things like that,” I add, rolling my eyes at myself because I most definitely just insinuated that I stuffed my suitcase full of sex toys. Which is accurate… I only brought my toothbrush, a few of my favorite hoodies, some framed pictures, and the contents of my naughty box, which Dex requested I pack. But Jeeves most certainly doesn’t need to know that.

“I understand,” he answers, politely dodging any further talk of the matter. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Nope, I think that’ll do it. Thank you for the ride.” I point to the back of the limo. “I can just shlep my suitcase up with me though. It’s really not a problem.”

“Oh, no need to strain yourself, ma’am.” His dimples deepen as he smiles.

“I mean…it rolls. Really not a strain, I promise.”

His smile turns into a grimace. “If you don’t mind, Mrs. Hessler, it’s protocol. Part of my job.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, then um”—I pat my pockets like I’m searching for something—“will I be seeing you again? This is embarrassing but I don’t have cash for a tip. I’ll have Dex take me to an ATM tomorrow, though. Can I get you back? You did a really good job.”

His smile before was polite, but now it’s clear he’s trying not to chuckle at me. “Ma’am, I’m your personal driver. Anywhere you need to go, I’m at your service. No tip necessary. I’m part of your staff.” He winks. “You pay me more than plenty.”

“Well, now I’m embarrassed.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t be. That was quite endearing.”

“If we’ll be seeing each other daily, please call me Len or Lennox, whatever you prefer. And also, I’m sorry—I didn’t catch your name.”

He clasps his hand over his chest. “Oh, I thought you knew.” In a fluid motion, he unsnags the button from his suit and stretches out his hand. “I’m Joseph or Joe. Whatever you prefer.” Eh, I was close. Jeeves, Joseph…not that far off.

“Thank you, Joe. Also, one more thing.”

“Sure, what is it?”

I nod behind me, gesturing to the extended limo. “Do we have to take this everywhere? It’s a little flashy.”

He lifts his salt-and-pepper brows. “Not at all. Do you have a preference?”

“I really don’t. I just don’t want to look like I’m headed to prom every time we go to Target.”

He laughs. “Duly noted. Tomorrow morning when I retrieve you for your interview, I’ll bring something simpler. Just out of curiosity, will we be making trips to Target often?”

My smile grows wide and wicked. “I got an advance on my salary, Joe. Oh, yeah. Strap in, buddy.”

He lets out a thunderous belly laugh. “Good to know. Okay, well, have a good evening, Lennox. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Wait, one more thing, Joe. You mentioned an interview…what interview?”

He shrugs. “I’m sorry. I’m not privy to the details of your meetings. I only know that Mrs. Lockleer sent over a note that you are to meet her at the corporate campus at eight-thirty to prep for your interview. I’ll be downstairs by eight o’clock, but take your time. It’s only a ten-minute drive.”

Lockleer? “Oh, do you mean Denny?”

“She prefers I call her Mrs. Lockleer,” Joe says, with the slightest begrudging hint in his voice. “I’m to standby tomorrow until your day is complete; then, I’ll bring you home.”

“Oh…well, okay then. I’m glad one of us is on top of my schedule.”

Joe nods. “In case Mrs. Lockleer didn’t give you my number.” Joe reaches into his inside coat pocket and retrieves a sleek black business card. “Call me anytime if you need anything.”

I take the card then wiggle it between my fingers. “Thank you, Joe.”

He ducks his head in a show of you’re welcome. Then, he steps forward to call the elevator for me with the push of a button. “Two-nine-six-four-eight-three at the top, don’t forget,” he says as I step into the elevator door. As soon as the doors close, I’m propelled upwards automatically.

This is fancier than I expected. Maybe I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around Dex’s wealth. Why wouldn’t a billionaire have a penthouse in the heart of Miami with private access elevators? I was always impressed with Dex’s house in Las Vegas. I didn’t realize that was technically slumming it for him.

Dex insisted we live at the condo until he has a chance to find our dream home. He apologized for it being a bit “cozy,” but he gifted the Hessler Estate to Denny. I was slightly disappointed to know that Dex wouldn’t be living in his childhood home. A little piece of history lost. But he doesn’t seem bothered.

After I put in the elevator code and the doors open to the main living room, I realize that Dex needs a dictionary, because he outrageously misused the word “cozy.”

Maybe a four-thousand-square-foot penthouse suite seems modest and cozy in comparison to the Hessler Estate, which I’m mentally equating to the lifestyle visuals we get on Keeping Up with the Kardashians. But the condo is far from cozy and meager, which is how Dex described it. My footsteps echo as I walk through the main entry. That’s how tall the ceilings are. Every piece of décor looks like it belongs in a museum. So much so, I don’t want to touch anything. The furniture is oversized, almost triple the size of a normal couch or coffee table, yet it still looks doll-sized in the large open spaces.

Even Dex’s bed looks larger than a California King. It’s like a giant resides here. The bed, framed with a simple leather headboard and footboard is set on a platform in the middle of the room, facing an electric fireplace. I don’t see any fish tanks so far, which makes sense. Dex is never here enough to maintain them. I suppose all that has changed now.

This is my new home…which is empty as can be.

I kill an hour by taking a bath in the massive tub. A tub Mom would appreciate. I rummage in the pantry and fully-stocked fridge to find some crackers, cheese, and deli meats. There’s a wine rack stocked with fancy red bottles but none of that sounds appealing. Instead, I settle on seltzer water. And finally, after watching a few episodes of mindless sitcom reruns on a TV so large it feels like I’m front row at a movie theatre, I break down and call Dex. I know he’s at a meeting, but it’s nearly ten. Surely my early bird husband is getting ready for bed by now.

He answers on the first ring.

“Oh hey, Trouble. Your ears must be burning because I was just telling Emmett here about my beautiful new purply-haired bride.”

“Purply-haired?” I laugh. “You’re drunk.”

“Hardly. I am however, having drinks, trying to close a bitch of a deal.” There’s a low hum of chatter wherever he is. Sounds like a restaurant. “But Emmett is a stubborn ass,” Dex adds in a comically loud whisper.

I laugh. “Careful. I’m willing to bet your friend heard that.”

“I meant for him to,” Dex says returning to his normal voice. “He won’t agree to my idea until I promise him my bleeding heart on a platter.”

“Exaggeration,” a male voice in the background says.

“What deal?” I ask, nonchalantly.

Dex laughs. A rich, grumbly laugh. The one that used to make my stomach flit with nerves. It’s bizarre he’s mine. I can listen to that laugh whenever I want. I can tell him how much I want him. It’s impossible for Dex to offer up his heart in this deal because it’s already mine. “Are you asking to be polite, or are you genuinely interested?”

“Mostly to be polite but I promise I’ll listen to every single word.”

“Emmett’s dad owns Visionary Records label. He’s an executive there and right now they work with some of the top world artists. I want some of his roster to make scheduled appearances on Luxe Adventure’s cruises. We have some Hollywood A-listers but I’m trying to recruit from the music industry. Wouldn’t it be cool to spot your favorite Grammy winner on a cruise?”

I shrug. “They’re just people. I don’t know if I’d buy a cruise for a celebrity spotting. I’d spend every last dime I had on a cruise if my favorite musician would serenade me for a week straight though.”

“What?” Dex asks.

“I don’t like big concerts. As much as I love to see the hyped-up world tours, I can’t stand having to watch the performance with a slight lag on the jumbotron. Bless Taylor Swift’s soul for putting that performance on TV. I don’t want to spend my life savings watching an ant in a sparkly leotard from 100 yards away. Now, if she was performing on a cruise, it’d feel so much more intimate…a once in a lifetime experience. I’d pay top dollar for that.”

“Once in a lifetime…” Dex mutters. “Baby, I’m putting you on speaker. Say all that again.”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

I awkwardly repeat myself and when I’m finished Dex drops his voice to a murmur. “We’d call it ‘Once in a Lifetime,’ Emmett. A concert cruise. What do you think? One headliner per cruise and five to six supporting acts. Each a unique set.”

“Exactly. We’d have to play on scarcity,” Emmett says. “Create some buzz with surprise performance reveals. Then preorders. Once the tickets are gone, they’re gone.”

“Could you get Shaylin?” Dex asks.

I’m so glad they can’t see my eyes bulge in surprise. Shaylin is the world’s darling pop princess and my shameless girl crush. She bought a micro pig and named it Piggie Smalls, aka The Notorious P.I.G., so basically, we’re soulmates.

“Are you kidding? She’s on her world tour. She’s basically scheduled back-to-back for three years straight.”

“We can’t get her for a week? Cancel a couple shows next year? I’ll pay her quadruple what she’d miss out on ticket revenue,” Dex pleads. “We need a major name for this to work⁠—”

“Dex, she’s also a billionaire. Money isn’t much of a motivator,” Emmett explains.

“Guardian,” I say. They don’t hear me the first time as they start throwing out terminology I don’t understand about investments and profit margins. I clear my throat again. “What about that charity called Guardian?”

“What, baby?” Dex asks.

“Yeah, baby, what was that?” Emmett asks, mocking Dex. I distinctly hear a loud thud and Emmett groans, “Ow.”

I snicker before elaborating. “She’s really big on social media about the charity she supports called Guardian, which fights sex trafficking and domestic violence. They fund all sorts of things from legal guidance, safe houses, relocation, witness protection—everything. Every birthday, or every time she hits the number one album release, her only wish is for people to donate to Guardian. She’s so passionate about it. What if you donated half of the cruise revenue to the charity? I bet she’d do it.”

“Half?” Emmett squalls.

“Half would bankrupt the cruise,” Dex explains to me. “But a hefty percentage could work. Plus, that’s a huge PR move for her…”

“So, take a personal loss to launch the concept,” Emmett adds. “Then you attract more headliners who are trying to follow in her footsteps.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s actually fucking brilliant. Why didn’t we think of that?”

“Because my wife is smarter than both of us combined,” Dex says, his tone full of pride. In reality, it’s probably because they have never had to choose between a month’s worth of groceries or sitting in the nosebleeds at a concert. It’s painful when you have to pinch every penny just to be shafted with the bare minimum. I wish the world was paid based on effort and hard work, not luck and connections.

“It was just an idea, Dex.”

“Lennox,” Dex says, the background noise settling and his voice crystal clear. He must’ve taken me off speakerphone. “When you have wealth like we do, ideas become real change. Don’t forget that. You have the power to make big moves now.”

I smirk. “I thought you wanted me to sit here and look pretty. I’m just your muse.”

“Please excuse me while I pull my foot out of my mouth. I shouldn’t have said that. If you want to take on some responsibility⁠—”

I laugh. “I’m one grad degree and about ten years of corporate experience away from calling the shots. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Hey,” he practically barks. “Mrs. Hessler, I’m going to need you to start trusting yourself as much as I do. Your heart makes you regal, and even in your white tank top and pink pajama shorts, you look like royalty to me. We’re all listening. Speak up whenever you want to.”

“Dex, thank you. That is so sweet and…wait”—I glance down at my pajamas—“how’d you know what I’m wearing?”

“Security app sends me an alert every time someone passes the motion sensors. I’m surprised you went for sparkling water, by the way. In three years of knowing you, I’ve never once seen you drink Perrier. There’s beer in the beverage fridge.”

“The beverage fridge?” I ask.

“It has more specific temperature controls. It’s underneath the bar in the living room where you set your purse.”

I turn down my lips and nod. “I’m not really feeling the stalker vibes right now,” I say sarcastically. “Maybe you could turn it up a notch.”

“Sassy,” Dex murmurs. “I had them installed when I moved to Vegas. It’s for security with the staff. I’ll have them taken down now that we’re moving in.”

“Watch me all you want. I have nothing to hide. I’m just surprised you didn’t call.”

“I’m sorry.” He’s quiet for so long, I know I made him feel bad. “I was in back-to-back meetings and I just…”

“Oh, hey, I’m messing with you. I’m not trying to be clingy.”

“Please be clingy,” Dex says simply. “Lets me know you’re thinking of me, which is nice because I’m always thinking of you. Len…I’m sorry. I promised I’d be there and I’m not there. Clearly, I’m under the Hessler curse.”

“It’s fine,” I assure him. But it’s not lost on me that we’re already starting this marriage with broken promises. Dex said he’d be here, and he’s not. I said I’m okay with it… Am I? “I understand you have to work. It’s okay.”

Still, Dad’s warning circulates in my mind. He told me good businessmen know how to say and do whatever it takes to get a deal done. Am I simply a deal to Dex? If he wanted to be here, he could be. His attention is where he feels it’s most needed right now.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he hurries out. “I’ll wrap up here and call you when I get home.”

“No need. I think I’m going to get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning after that interview?”

“Interview?”

“Denny set something up, I guess.”

Dex grumbles underneath his breath. “Did she send you talking points?”

“No. But she’s meeting me there first to prep me.”

“Please be careful. Reporters can be a little invasive. Believe me, I’ve been burnt a time or two. Just stick to whatever Denny advises.”

“Okay, got it.” I blow out a deep breath. “I have to admit, it would’ve been nice to have a day to shop. Now, I’m going to have to show up to this thing in a sundress.” I think back to the time I met Dottie and the outfit she wore. Elegant and professional. I’m going to look laughable in an outfit suited for a low-budget backyard barbeque.

“It’s probably just the interview portion. The photo shoot is usually scheduled separately. I’ll double-check with Denny. I don’t like her putting things on your schedule without running it by me first.”

“Uh oh… Are my babysitters about to fight?”

“Hilarious. But by the way, what’s wrong with a sundress?”

“It’s too casual. My most sophisticated sundress is light blue with feather outlines on it. Basically, I’ll look about as professional as a puppy.”

He laughs. “For the record, I like feathers, I like sundresses, and I really like when you’re just you.”

“Good to know.” I smile into the phone. “Goodnight, Mr. Hessler.”

“Goodnight, wife.”