Playboy Heir

by Brandy Munroe

  I saw the wedding dress of my dreams. A Donna Karan sheath in ecru with a brown sash. A trip to New York with the Bridal party was in order. A flower girl's dress for Mimi and Maid of Honor dress for Leona.

  Aleksander would take Peyton with him so the men had matching tuxes. I did not want to sound like a bridezilla but made it clear he had his choice of color of tuxedos, as long as it was the same shade of caramel as the suit I first saw him in. The tie had to be chocolate to match my sash and he must wear his brown Boardroom and Beyonds.

  The wedding was taking place on a private island that housed a villa large enough to accommodate the wedding party and host the wedding reception.

  The guest included the Van de Graaf clan, the Manos clan, Leona’s parents and boyfriend, Annette and Uncle Charlie. With my permission, Aleksander arranged for my stepsisters and stepmother to attend. He had them arrive a couple of days earlier to do some catching up and much needed healing.

  The ceremony was traditional. Uncle Charlie walked me down the aisle. The vows were traditional as well; love, honor and cherish. The reception lasted well into the night. The first to lose steam were Annette, Uncle Charlie, Peyton, and Mimi.

  The guest were welcomed to stay the weekend if they wished. Aleksander, myself, Peyton and Annette would be there the entire week working in a family vacation with the honeymoon.

  The Van de Graafs arrived on their yacht as did Alexander's family. Aleksander took care of the transportation for the rest of the guests.

  Richard arrived on his sailboat. He enjoyed being out on his sailboat and had not had the opportunity lately. He called it his floating cottage. You don’t like the scenery, move. You don’t like the neighbors, move. You don’t like the weather, move.

  Richard would spend the remainder of his vacation sailing through the small islands and inlets sprinkled throughout the coastline of the New England states.

  The next day, Aleksander made sure Richard was completely sober before seeing him off. “It’s getting late,” I protested. "Maybe you should wait till morning?”

  “Red sky in the morning, sailors be warning, red sky at night, sailors delight. Look at the beautiful pink sky, Haley,” Richard reassured me. “I won’t go far before setting anchor and settling in for the night. There is nothing like sleeping on the boat with the waves rocking you to sleep. Enjoy your honeymoon and I will see all of you next week.”

  “I’m sure the waves aren't the only thing rocking him to sleep,”Aleksander hinted.

  “How many times do I have to remind you, I don’t need to know these things?” I cringed.

  “Richard has been sailing all his life, Haley,” Aleksander reminded me. “I would, and have, trusted his skills with my life.” He kissed me on the forehead and wrapped me in his strong arms.

  “Annette promised to keep Peyton busy, allowing us time alone to begin our honeymoon,” I purred.

  “How about we start with me carrying you over the threshold of our master suite?” Aleksander offered.

  “Does it have a Jacuzzi tub?” I teased. “I could use a bath like the first one we took together.”

  “Since you like it that much, I can have one installed when we get home so the honeymoon never has to end,” Aleksander enticed me.

  “With a loving caring husband like you, I don’t believe the honeymoon could ever end.” I reached on my tiptoes and kissed my husband.

  Aleksander lifted me in his arms and carried me off to start our new lives as Mr. and Mrs. Manos.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you for taking the time to enjoy this journey with me.

  If you enjoyed Playboy Heir than I hope you look forward to the next book in this small town series, Man Whore Heir.

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  Included is a sneak peek at Richard’s and Mackenzie’s story.

  I’ve never made a promise I couldn’t keep: Except, I’d foolishly broken a promise before I’d even made it

  Richard: She was my first crush, my first kiss, my first love. When I finally believe I had won her back unspoken truth threaten to take away the only woman I had truly loved.

  Happily ever afters only come along once in a lifetime. I’d had mine and it was mercilessly taken away.

  Mackenzie: Spending the night at Lighthouse Island on the anniversary or my husband death was suppose to rid me of my demons. Having Richard Van de Graff shipwrecked on my Island was not in the plan. But Mother Nature had plans of her own. Richard broke my heart once, a long time ago. If I am not careful, I am going to let him do it again. This time, it would be my fault. I’m older, wiser, I know better. It would be too easy to pretend those years in between never happened. But they did.

  Man Whore Heir: Chapter 1

  Richard

  I enjoyed my time on the ocean alone. I slept when I wished and with whom I wished. No pressures, no deadlines, no commitments. Not for the entire week. My one week a year when I was plain old Rick. The guy who lived in a sailboat.

  I wasn’t Richard Van de Graaf Jr, heir and Co-CEO to one of the largest shoe dynasties in the country.

  I would come and go into whatever port had an open pen, take anchor, head to the nearest tavern and enjoy what the town had to offer.

  Last night had been no exception. I kissed my passenger goodbye and promised I would look her up next time I was passing through. A line I had used numerous times that week.

  I had taken care of my personal needs and would return to work with focus. Few understood my need to release tension in this manner. Once I did, I was an unstoppable force in the boardroom. My directions were concise, bold and innovative.

  The ocean lay before me, my own watery playground. It was a route I could do in my sleep.

  My guest wanted to join me to assist with the riggings and sails. It was easier to handle the sailboat with a shipmate but I did not carry any complications from my trips with me on my return voyage.

  One last detour before I headed home. My sister lived on one of the islands in the inlet along the Long Island Sound. I would stop in, say hello and be on my way.

  I would have one more night to anchor before the responsibilities entrusted to me would weigh me down.

  One last night.

  The night should not have been falling at the rate of speed that had me wondering where the time had gone. I must have been enticed by the beauty of the ocean. I checked my watch.

  I had not lost track of time; it was still early afternoon. Why had the sky suddenly turned dark? This was not a good sign, not good at all.

  I pulled down the sails and tied them off. If my instincts were correct, I was in for one hell of a storm.

  The gales of October came early, wreaking havoc. The air became thick with briny mist, the deck awash with salty waves. Stormy clouds rolled in, blocking the last rays of light. Thunder crackled through the air, rain began to pour furiously, monstrous waves of contrasting shades slamming the boat.

  The waves grew so large that the vessel was dwarfed, riding up and down the mighty swelling ocean like a child's toy. Inside the ship there was no staying still unless anchored in place. In that state I would have prayed to Poseidon himself if I thought it would do any good.

  There was no mercy in that September wind, no grace in the waves, only wrath and tempest.

  Every sense was maxed out, every muscle already working beyond normal capacity and still there was no end in sight. Total darkness prevailed as the dismal clouds overcast the once bright sky. The wind arose, causing waves to tower over the helpless boat, dousing the deck.

  I was caught in a violent storm and was nearly tossed over the side. I did not know what part of the boat to grab on to. There was no time to think, only to act.

  Every action, every reaction was a life or death decision. Mistakes could not be undone, I could only forge ahead and continue to follow through.

  If I could put one more mile behind me, I c
ould make my way to the inlet. I was sure there were sprinkles of islands, some deserted, some used during the summer tourist season.

  My instruments were wet and unreadable, the night sky was un-navigational. I was unable to get my bearings. I made my way to the helm, the radio.

  Mayday, Mayday, this is the Richard V, repeat Richard V, RV4874DG, RV4874DG.

  I gave the coordinates of my last known location, heading east to Long Island Sound. Taking on water. No passengers. Mayday, mayday, this is Richard V, repeat Richard V, RV4874DG, RV4874DG, taking on water.

  The clapping of the thunder and the cracks of the waves against the hull made it impossible to hear the response. I knew my message went through. I could hear mumbling then static.

  I had to stay positive and believe my message got through.

  With the sails out of commission I would have to rely on the boat's motor to try to push through the unforgiving current. The rudder was still in place and that greatly improved my odds.

  The lightning was a godsend, giving me much needed illumination to assist in the navigation. I was grateful I was able to repel the mast, disabling it as a lighting rod. That was one more distraction that could be detrimental to my already uncertain fate.

  They say your life flashes before your eyes in the face of death. Mine had not, giving me hope that it was not my time. I saw another flash of lightning. Different than the last, more fluent, more direct. It looked more like the beam of a lighthouse, but it was steady and straight, not bouncing in circles.

  Maybe it was my time after all and I was witnessing the light at the end of the tunnel. The long illuminating light leading me to my maker to account for my judgements in life.

  Like a siren beckoning sailors to the rocks, this light was beckoning me into the abyss.

  Follow the light, Richard, my head was spinning, follow the light. I was so entirely focused on the light, I was not aware of the monstrous wave that overtook the boat, sending it flying through the air and splintering on the rocks.

  I hit the water with a force that almost caused unconsciousness. I was a strong swimmer; I could make it to shore if only the water had not been so cold on my already over-used muscles.

  I was afraid if I did not fight the current, I would float away, back into the ocean.

  The only thing keeping my head above water was the lifejacket.

  Did the beacon deploy upon impact?

  Would they find me or would I lie in the unforgiving ocean to die of hypothermia?

  I did not see my life flash before my eyes. What I saw was an angel in the beam of light. She was just beyond reach, just beyond my touch.

  Everything went dark.

  Man Whore Heir: Chapter 2

  Mackenzie

  Stepping inside the lighthouse, I stared at the flight of iron stairs before me. The skeleton of the structure. They had stood the test of time; they didn’t rust or decay. They were as sturdy as the day they were installed.

  Holding onto the railing, I slid my hand along the slim narrow beam. I noted that the stairs could use a new coat of paint.

  Where does one get the distinct shade of army grey that adheres like a second skin?

  Reaching the top, I slowly exhaled the breath I had not realized I was holding. I took a deep soothing breath, hoping to get enough air into my lungs to mentally prepare for what lay ahead.

  It would be easy at first; check the radio, hit a few buttons, see what was working.

  It would be the long lonely time between late afternoon and evening that bothered me.

  The view was spectacular, the ocean’s blue hue with the shades of grey waves hitting the shore and pulling back. It was very hypnotic.

  Everything seem to be in working order. I wondered if the manual pivoting system was still operational on the lights. They weighed a ton, but when I first started dating Michael and brought him here, he had said if we installed a torqued up spindle roller close to the axle, the lights could be moved manually.

  This allowed the light to reflect any one of the beams to a direct location. Physics was never my strong suit. I followed Michael’s handwritten instructions taped to the panel. I knew if I switched off the main breaker, I should be able to rotate the light to where I wanted.

  First I would check with the Coast Guard to make sure no vessels were in the area. It would not be pleasant to have someone crash ashore because I was messing with the lights.

  I turned the knobs on the short wave radio. All I heard was static. I attempted to communicate with no avail. I would leave well enough alone. The circular motion of the lights and the illumination of the stars would give me what I came for.

  While there was still plenty of daylight, I decided to check what remained of the furnishings left behind. I would check on my way back down, stopping on each of the four levels to take inventory.

  The two floors directly below the equipment were empty.

  The next was a small bedroom. The bookshelves my father had installed for the overflow of Michael's books was still sturdy. I took the time to sit on the bed and look through the last one he had left on the nightstand.

  The ground floor had a small wooden table with two chairs. Another one of my father’s handiwork. For a fisherman, he was quite the carpenter.

  I was not keeping track of how much time I had spent going over everything. I was shocked to see it was getting dark outside. I would have to hurry if I wished to get to the cabin and collect what I needed before nightfall. My intention was to spend the night in the lighthouse.

  I checked my watch. My heart raced, my palms began to sweat, I felt ill, faint. I ran to the top of the lighthouse.

  This time the view was not so spectacular, not so serene.

  Through the panoramic window, I watched the ocean. Lost was the rhythmic percussion of the waves on the sand. My eyes steady to the horizon, face aglow with the last orange rays before grey skies beckoned the rain.

  With the crash of thunder, I cowered under the shelving that housed the electronics. I hugged my flashlight to my breast.

  The thumping of my heart alerted me how great my fear had surfaced.

  I had to take hold of my senses. Panicking would do me no good. I needed to face this head on. I stood and faced the raging storm and stared it down. I listened as the waves crashed against the shore, hearing the thunder drown out the sound of my own thundering heart.

  Should I stay and endure the fear swirling through my body or head back to the warmth of the cabin with its glowing fire?

  The tethered rope would get me there safely. I might make it before the rain became too violent to enable me to leave. I held tight to my flashlight and took that first step down the stairs.

  The shortwave radio came to life; mayday, mayday this is the Richard V, repeat Richard V, RV4874DG, RV4874DG. I listened to the coordinates, heading for Long Island Sound, taking on water.

  I quickly grabbed the sailing maps from their protective plastic cylinder. I opened and check the gauges on the instrument panel. If I remembered anything my father taught me growing up as the daughter of a fisherman, please god, let it be now.

  Somewhere in my brain I still found the space to be cynical. Richard the fifth. He named his boat after a king, pompous ass. I heard the SOS repeated. I needed to act quickly. If my predictions were correct, he would be heading straight for me.

  Lightning crackled, causing me jump out of my skin. I could hear the panic in the voice at the other end of the SOS.

  Was this how Michael and my father had felt when they too were trying to find a light in the storm? I could not leave this man out there with no hope.

  Thank god the lighthouse was running on backup power it stored from the solar panels. Whoever this Richard the fifth was, he would have Michael to thank for that upgrade. That’s if he got out of this in one piece.

  I looked out onto the ocean. I was unable to get a clear picture. The circular motion of the light made it impossible for me to see any one spot for any length of time.r />
  The manual override. Could I pull it off? Was I strong enough?

  I had to try.

  I flipped the switch, grabbed the handles on the side of the lighting system and began to push the light so the beam bounced off the ocean in a steady stream.

  I slowly repeated the process, moving only a few inches at a time. After each movement I would take the binoculars and scan the water. I caught a glimpse of movement. I moved the light slightly to the left. I could see the boat. I could see him desperately trying to hold onto the helm. Desperately trying to make it to shore.

  Follow the light, King Richard, I mentally chanted. I know you can see it, follow the light. I was tracking his moves, hoping he would soon get his bearings and enter into the dock along the west side of the lighthouse.

  Neither of us could have predicted a monstrous wave overtaking the boat. It was going to crash, there was no avoiding it.

  I had no regards for my own safety. I grabbed the life preserver from the wall and took to the stairs two at a time. I wasn't exactly sure how I made it to the bottom so fast. I tied myself to the loose rope I had tethered to the lighthouse on my arrival.

  Congratulating myself for having the foresight to leave enough slack would come later. I ran to the dock. I was all too aware that I had to get there before the next wave would rush in and drag whoever was out there back to the ocean. If I was not quick enough, I risked being dragged in with him.

  I would cross that bridge when I got there. I used my flashlight but could not see any movement along the rocks. I heard the unmistakable sound of someone thrashing in the water. I ran towards the dock and saw the beacon. The kind that illuminates on a lifejacket when it hits the water.

  The captain, the man I saw on deck. It made sense from that location he would have been washed over by the massive wave that hit the boat. On my way I saw the tiller on the shore. I stopped to take it with me; I was going to need the leverage it would provide.