BILLIONAIRE Island: Idyllic Mischief

by May, Savannah

  In the days that followed, Sasha and Indie returned to their single, model girl routine, partying all night. Damien refused to be apart from Indie for longer than required to run his father's hotels. He used any excuse to drop by the showroom where she worked every afternoon with Laurent, glad to have an excuse not to trail around behind Sasha all day, waiting in the car while she went in to meetings or watching her jump over horse fences. She was happy to be helping Laurent with the interior of the store in Grande Bay as well as the clothes it would sell. Each evening Damn took her to ski, or to sunset cocktails and dinner at a beautiful restaurant.

  Most evenings Laurent accompanied them. Damien demanded it. He seemed to require Laurent at his side as much as he needed her. Indie was glad he was along. She felt a little guilty that they had been getting close, before she made her choice and succumbed to Dammo and hoped he didn't feel rejected. In fact, she was a little disappointed to lose the glow that had been rising between them, he was the hottest sweetheart. Every night finished up at Lune Noire, the three arriving in the truck to meet Sasha, who came with Bihjan. The well-spoken, rather staid Indian gentleman had been constantly at her side since she seduced him at the riding club on that first date.

  “Are you sure you aren't rebounding because you're upset about Patrice?” Indie asked, concerned for her friend.

  “Don't be ridiculous, I'm not upset. He's a much better catch, better body and more energetic than Patrice could dream of.” Sasha snapped, annoyed at Indie's interference.

  When Lune Noire closed, Damn raced his truck back through Grande Bay, swerving around Bihjan's silver Audi at top speed and careening up the track and through the open gates. The three were already inside the house, pouring tequila slammers at Tolar's bar when Bihjan pulled sedately into the drive. Youssou appeared out of the dark shadows to close the gates then disappeared. Bihjan always tucked in his shirt, re-knotted his tie and adjusted his spectacles, to slip away at 4am, before the girls woke up, back to his parents house on the opposite side of the island. Damien stayed with Indie, slept in her bed upstairs and was honored each morning by the servants.

  The nights turned bone marrow warm. Indie and Sasha, accompanied by Bihjan who arrived after work in his suit and cufflinks every night, flopped indolently on the terrace loungers.

  “I think I cannot drink another drop. I have been to work with a hangover every day for two weeks,” Bihjan complained.

  “I can't bear to think of Tolar coming back in a week.” Sasha whispered, her eyes burrowing into her lover's. “I have to get away.”

  “I told you already, without EPZ status you will be deported if you leave him,” Bihjan said in his correct British clip.

  “Whoa, when did leaving Tolar become a project?” Indie came to, suddenly worried that her friend was getting into her fling way too deep.

  “It's getting unbearable. The shouting, he controls all the money and makes me write out a list of every penny I spend. He hid the girl's passports in case I try to disappear while he's away.”

  “Sash, I had no idea you were so unhappy.” Indie had in fact registered concerns, the Valium and sleeping pills, hearing Sasha making herself throw up in the bathroom after eating on various occasions. “But you know, how are you going to live?” It was a constant source of worry in their insecure profession and Sasha hadn't worked in years.

  “I'm going to divorce him and take the factory.”

  “You need EPZ status,” the lawyer interjected.

  “I've got documents proving how he's laundering money back into D-marks through import export duties, Willy and Horst too.”

  “That's illegal. Let me see those documents,” Bihjan sat taller, interested.

  “They aren't lying around the house. And Tolar doesn't care about illegal. He made a deal with the prime minister.” Bihjan's face fell into shock when she outed the Indian government leader. “For a kickback of course.”

  “This could be tough to prove. And take a long time. But you two have fashion knowledge, why don't you start a company with Indie to apply for EPZ status.”

  “Then you can stay here too,” Sasha told her friend, clapping her hands, delighted.

  As Bihjan began spouting numbers and requirements, Indie ran inside to grab her notebook. She had no clue what was going on but Sasha and Bihjan had obviously discussed all this before. She wasn't sure whether this was a hijack to gather her as an accomplice. She was worried that Sasha was letting her infatuation with the handsome young lawyer run away with her sense.

  They sat on the terrace, Indie writing furious notes until they were interrupted by the roar on gravel and floodlights from Damien's giant truck. He and Laurent leapt from the cab, clearly ready to party. Damien pulled Indie onto his lap.

  “Tonight, you are my queen,” he whispered in her ear, kissing it lightly.

  “It's so stifling. Let's go for a swim.” Sasha leapt from her chair and ran to the pool, squealing and pulling her tiny clothes off then jumping in stark naked.

  Damn found an extension cord, dragged the ghetto blaster out across the garden and plugged in some dance music at full pitch. Indie went to the bar and pulled out the Kahlua, baileys and grand marnier bottles and brought them to the edge of the pool where Sasha was calling out for them to join her. Laurent and Bihjan remained firm in their chairs looking bashful, while Indie poured layers of liqueur into the empty shot glasses, topping off with a splash of tequila.

  “I am very shy,” Damien whispered to Indie, “You must undress me.” Which she gladly did, freeing his cock from the tight jeans. It swayed before her and she ran away screaming, ripping her clothes to follow Sash into the pool. Damien dove straight in behind her and came up between her legs, kissing all the way across her stomach, each nipple, until he broke the surface and kissed her mouth.

  In one athletic pull, he was out of the pool and picked Laurent up from his seat to toss him into the water fully clothed. Sasha had followed Damn and was trying to get Bihjan out of his clothes. The tequila slammers had not put even a dent in his proper shell so Damn went back to help her, hauling him out of his suit and boxers.

  Sasha pulled him into the pool and Indie threw his shorts high over the ten foot wall around the house into the scrub beyond. They drank more shooters chased with tequila and Bihjan became irate about his missing shorts.

  “What's up, will Mamma check to see if you have them when you go home?” Indie said.

  Fi and Youssou's daughter, Manju, discovered all five knocked out, spread-eagle naked across the loungers when she appeared to sweep the terrace at sunrise.

  Chapter Ten

  On the days Indie wasn't working with Laurent, she met Kathlijn to go to the beach or for reflexology massage with Tywain, the witch doctor. Ever since the first appointment, ordered by Sasha, both women had been enamored with the alleged witch doctor and, like her, visited him every couple of days. She waited in the reception area, TyWain's Indian maid brought her mango juice, then loitered at the doorway staring and giggling.

  Eventually TyWain opened the door and his previous client emerged, jittery and far from relaxed. He wore red and white polka-dot shorts on his rotund frame with a white Polo shirt. His tan was deepest orange, matching the shade of his hair that was streaked with yellow. He was laughing and talking fast about someone's wife but when he clapped eyes on Indie, the smile wiped from his face and he sailed past with his nose in the air.

  TyWain said nothing and led her in for her treatment, no ordinary massage. He spent a great deal of time at the soles of the feet and whenever he laid his hands on any part of the body, TyWain had something scarily insightful to say. He had known immediately upon touching Indie's stomach that she had recently been pregnant. His face twisted in pain and he declined to say more at that first appointment. Indie of course had been pulled to return and at that meeting, he had confirmed without her saying a word, the full experience.

  “Very painful to lose a child this way,” he said. “But it was not your fault
and you must stop feeling guilty.”

  Indie was almost at the point of asking whether her baby would have been a little boy or girl but TyWain shook his head, no.

  “Let go of the past,” he said. “Keeping it in mind only gives it life. Grieve and move ahead because you will have children before long.”

  “Oh my,” she said. “How long?” A shiver went through her. Could it be that Damien-?

  “Soon. You are hoping it will be someone you already know.”

  “I have been seeing someone,” she said.

  “Who is it?”

  “He's rather a known figure. TyWain can you tell me?” The healer smiled an enigmatic response. Suddenly all patience evaporated in her eagerness to know. “Damien Le-Comte is he, I mean, will we?”

  “You want to know whether he can be trusted and your relationship come to fruition.”

  “Exactly, can you tell?”

  “I can tell but it is not always beneficial to know exactly what life has in store. And it is not always etched in marble.”

  “Can I trust him, will I get hurt?” She was willing to let go of the certainty of a child with Damien but getting hurt was the important point right now.

  “Yes and no.”

  “Yes and no to both or yes to the first and no to the second?”

  “I cannot tell when you get all tense and doubting,” TyWain muttered. “You have to relax. We will wait until next time and hope you can remain in harmony.”

  Fuck fuck fuck.

  She emerged from TyWain's bizarre treatment room, decorated with African carved wood figures in erotic poses mixed with pink and gold paintings of Hindu deities. On the way out Indie nodded a greeting at the woman waiting to see him. She forced a tight smile and looked at Indie with interest, trailing her eyes over every inch her body in a way that made her feel plundered. Indie hurried out of TyWain's little yellow house and across the garden bursting with the plants he made remedies from. Distracted by what the magicman might have seen for her future, she immediately forgot the strange woman.

  Throughout that evening and all the following day, working on designs at Laurent's house, Indie was dreamy with thoughts of staying on Mauritius forever. When Damn arrived at sundown, he was in a rage and drew Laurent into another heated discussion about the business.

  “I need a drink. Why can't you keep any beer in the house,” Damn shouted, slamming the refrigerator door shut. “Come on, we'll go to Cap Malheureux.

  “How appropriate,” Laurent muttered. The point on the beach was bizarrely named 'bad-tempered'.

  “What is your fucking problem?” Damien turned on him. “Am I not doing everything possible for you? Am I not paying for your entire life?”

  “I am working here, I am not your slave.” The two erupted into high-speed French and Indie waited for them to finish blasting pent up steam across each others bows. Laurent refused to go to dinner, saying he had to work. Indie offered to stay and help, Damien could get take out.

  “I cannot get take out, Laurent will go,” he shouted.

  “No I will not. Stop giving me errands to run, I am not Sateesh,” Laurent replied, referring to Damn's chauffeur manservant who drove him in the truck during the day and was sent on pick ups. “No, I prefer to work in peace, you two go now.”

  Damien stormed from the house and Laurent told her to go with him, he'd be fine. He genuinely wanted some solitude. Not convinced, Indie followed Damien to the truck but he remained in a fury and said nothing as he drove the short distance into Grande Bay and pulled up at a large red building with a tented gold roof. Obviously he'd decided they were eating Chinese.

  They entered the restaurant to the usual surge of interest at Damien's arrival from staff and patrons. Indie was becoming accustomed to the stares but it still bothered her how people looked at her oddly, as though questioning why her? What right did she have to be with Damien? Following the host to the table at the window, a woman looked up at Indie with a knowing smile. Her companion, a younger woman of unusual lineage turned to follow her stare. Odd, Indie felt she had seen both of them somewhere before. She arrived at the table and realized Damien was no longer behind her, he had stopped at the table and greeted the two women with double-cheek kisses.

  Indie was left to seat herself and waited, only pretending to read the menu. She glanced up and saw the dark girl look across at her in a way that made it obvious they were talking about her. Damien finally kissed the two women again and came over to join her, taking his time, shaking hands with the patrons at every table like the freaking President.

  “Who are those women?” she asked. “I feel like I know them.”

  “My cousin,” he snapped. Of course, the girl at the beach house with the ironed flat hair. “And her boss.”

  “Where do they work?”

  “In her factory. She makes clothes.”

  “Small world.”

  “It is one of the main industries of Mauritius,” his snap was closer to a snarl. He was mad at something-her?

  She retreated into the menu, waiting for the moment to pass. They ordered, drinks came and Damien remained silent. Not only non-speaking, she didn't exist, he was on another plane completely. Appetizers came, then the Peking duck and she was finding it hard to force the food down, over the lump rising in her throat.

  “I remember now,” she said. “I saw that blonde woman at TyWain's rooms. She was very curious.”

  “And you too are curious,” he spat. “I told you I don't like you seeing that witch doctor. People will talk.”

  “About what? No one knows I'm going to him.”

  “Someone knows. And she also knows we are dating and she knows you think you will catch me by getting pregnant.”

  Indie opened her mouth to speak and closed it again. Nothing good would come out of the fury that boiled up in her chest. How dare he, who the fuck did he think he was, imagining she was trying to catch him? And listening to garbage and lies about her. If he wouldn't support her and take her side, at the very least he could ask her to explain and hear her story. Damn sat staring straight at the food, avoiding her face and saying nothing. His jaw flexed in anger and deep consternation. Indie forced back the tears prickling at her eyes and steamed the anger inside to keep them from flowing. Her lover was ashamed of her. Ashamed to be caught out in public and annoyed that some woman had overheard her asking Tywain for advice about their affair.

  The two women left, smiling widely and waving goodnight to various patrons. Damien met the blonde's eyes through the window as she passed on the outside and held them longer than Indie cared for. The woman looked back over her shoulder with a smile of triumph that made Indie's core boil. Who was that smirking woman? Always smiling like she had a thousand secrets to blackmail people with. She dared not probe Damien in his current temper. In fact she had no desire to speak to him either.

  As soon as he finished eating she told him she was tired and wanted to go home. He dropped her at the gates to the Sasha's house and drove away without a word. Indie pushed the big gates closed and went toward the house as miserable as she thought she would never be again. Who was that dreadful woman who exerted such influence on Damien? She was older, at least forty, with a body more motherly than the supermodel slink he went for, so it couldn't be physical. From her fascination with Indie and her ingratiating smiles at Damien, Indie knew there was something unusual and her stomach gripped with anxious concern.

  All the lights in the house were on and the tension was thick even as she crossed the fragrant garden. The giant shadow of Tolar pacing up and down in their upstairs bedroom crossed in front of the window. Screaming voices could be heard before she reached the glass doors. Tolar was back and in a rage. There were empty bottles all over the living room table and he and Sasha were going at it like brushfire, upstairs in their bedroom. The house seemed to be shaking with the loud bellowing coming from Tolar.

  Indie had barely pushed back the sliding glass, miserable and desperate to get to a safe bed
room when Sasha ran down the stairs.

  “You have to leave,” she said, grabbing Indie's hands. “Tolar wants you out of the house tonight.”

  “Why? He's just drunk.” She felt the trembling rising.

  “He knows. He knows about our nights out and the pool parties. He says we behave like a pair of whores and you make me behave this way. None of this happened until you got here.”

  “Oh right, it was happy families until I arrived and led you astray. It's after midnight and I'm not leaving, where would I go? We can see what he says in the morning.”

  “Indie, I'm sorry but you have to go. He's got a knife and he says-, he's not kidding.” Indie searched Sasha's face and saw she was terrified.

  “I'm not leaving you here with a psycho. We should both leave and take the girls.”

  “You know he won't let me have the children. He said I can piss off or not, he doesn't care but the girls have to stay. I can't leave them.”

  “Let's call the police.”

  “Are you insane? He owns the police. I packed a bag for you, I'll bring you the rest in the morning.”

  “Are you insane? You're chucking me out in the middle of the night”

  “You can go to Damien. Didn't I just see him drop you off?”

  “Get that bitch out of my house.” Tolar had emerged from the bedroom and stood devil red-eyes at the top of the stairs. “I know what you've done. You are finished in Mauritius. Don't think your boyfriend can help you. Tomorrow morning I'm going to have you deported off this island forever.” His voice droned flat and loud as though he was brainwashed.

  “Go, go. He means it and he can do it. He's got lots of friends in the government.” Sasha shunted Indie through the doorway and pulled it shut behind them.

  “You turned my wife against me,” Tolar howled.

  “I'm not going without you.”

  “He says he'll kill me if I try to leave.”

  “Go get in the car. Lock yourself in.”