by Sarah Wynde
Still, the Delmar library was nothing like the formal shelves full of fancy first editions or books whose spines had never been cracked that she might have imagined. Instead, the shelves were overflowing with books, hardcovers, paperbacks, old and new, all piled together in an eclectic jumble. Fen could spend weeks in there without feeling out of place.
“Kaio radioed ahead of your lack of luggage,” Eladio said. “I’ve arranged for some garments for you, but the selection was limited, I’m afraid.”
“No worries.” Fen couldn’t wait to strip off her tights and leggings, but her skirt and tank top would be comfortable enough. If she needed to, she could wash them out in the sink and hope they’d be dry by morning. It wouldn’t be the first time.
She wouldn’t need to. In the room—an elegant space with a big bed draped with netting and a wardrobe instead of a closet—she found a few light sundresses, three bathing suits, a pair of flip-flops, and several big squares of patterned cloth. Plus shampoo and soap, sunscreen, toothpaste and a toothbrush.
All the comforts of home.
Fen stretched out a bare leg, poking at it to see if her skin was turning pink. Nah, she was still good. She leaned back in the chaise lounge and adjusted her sunglasses, pushing them higher on her nose, but instead of opening her book, she stared out at the brilliant blue of the ocean.
She’d spent the past three days surreptitiously pinching herself. Being on Caye Laje was like living in a commercial for a vacation paradise.
She hadn’t seen Kaio again. By the time she’d gone looking for him that first day, he was long gone, off on mysterious business of his own. She had no idea where he was or when he would return. But his last words to her were that Eladio would take care of her and Eladio did.
When she was hungry, food appeared. Good food. Instead of granola for breakfast and peanut butter on toast for dinner, she ate omelets and pastries, fresh fruit and salads, grilled fish, fancy little appetizers and desserts so good it was like they were created by angels.
When she was thirsty, drinks appeared. Never alcoholic, but the coffee was fantastic and the tall, sparkling fruit juices always cold and refreshing.
When she left her room to visit the pool or the library, she’d come back to find that every last trace of dust was gone.
Paradise, definitely.
Except…
She sighed.
Except something about it felt very wrong.
Maybe it was because she still hadn’t seen another woman on the island. But she could explain that rationally: Kaio was a rich, beautiful, gay man who could afford to surround himself with other beautiful men. It made perfect sense. Hell, she should be admiring his taste.
Instead, it was vaguely unsettling.
Or maybe the unsettling thing was that no one would talk to her. Oh, sure, they’d chat about the weather. And they’d answer a direct question if it had to do with something she needed. Food, water, directions to the pool, and she was golden. Anything else—everything else—got met with a murmured, “I couldn’t say, miss.”
But so what? People rich enough to fly private planes to their ritzy beach homes probably paid good money. Maybe the staff wasn’t supposed to talk to guests. Maybe “I couldn’t say” from a guy staring at the floor to avoid her eyes really meant “Don’t get me fired, crazy lady.”
She opened her book and stared at the page, not seeing the words.
But what if she wasn’t in a commercial for a glamorous vacation destination?
What if she was in a movie?
What genre would the movie be? Not a romantic comedy, that was for sure. A thriller? That’d be okay by her as long as Kaio was the star and she was just a MacGuffin. Science fiction? Maybe Kaio and his employees were part of a high-tech conspiracy, one of those secret organizations with pyramid logos aiming to take over the world. As long as she wasn’t a Red Shirt, she could live with that, too.
Or aliens. Maybe they were aliens. Nice aliens bringing world peace? She shivered, an abrupt motion that had nothing to do with the temperature. No, Kaio and his bodyguards didn’t seem like the type of extra-terrestrials who’d be working on world peace. World domination, she could buy. World peace, not so much.
But she was being stupid. Ridiculous. Her imagination running wild. Luke saved her life. Kaio and his brother were nice guys helping her out of an ugly situation. White knights, really. Right?
She closed her book again with another sigh. She should take a walk. Looking for shells in the sand would distract her from her dark thoughts.
“You don’t swim?”
Fen yelped, so startled by the unexpected voice behind her—Kaio’s voice—that she jerked upright, dropping her book, and almost over-balancing in her chaise lounge. She scrambled out of the chaise and stood, reaching for the book, but she was too slow. He had already picked it up.
“Light beach reading, I see.”
It took an effort, but Fen didn’t roll her eyes. She held out her hand for the book. “When did you get back?”
“A few—” Kaio started, paused, and then smoothly switched gears. “Last night.”
Fen’s eyes narrowed. She wouldn’t swear he was lying, but it sure sounded like a lie to her. Why lie about arriving, though? Come to that, how had he arrived? A plane landing wouldn’t have been quiet: the runway ran half the length of the island.
“I didn’t hear the plane.”
“Middle of the night. I’m sure you were fast asleep.”
He was dressed more casually then he’d been the other day, his white button-down shirt open at the collar, sleeves partially rolled up, no jacket or tie, hair damp as if he’d showered recently, but he looked as elegant, as intimidating, as he had then. His eyes, when they met hers, held nothing but innocence.
But Fen didn’t believe him for a minute. She slept like the survivor she was, always one ear open for danger. Every stray bug and bird on Caye Laje woke her up, and he wanted her to think she’d slept through a plane landing? But why the lie? If he hadn’t arrived by plane, he must have come in by boat. Why not say so?
He looked down at the book cover. “Surely the library holds more entertaining material for your pleasure.”
Okay, definite change of subject. Fen was tempted, so tempted, to challenge him. But… it was a small island. Everyone worked for him. And what if the movie she was in was a horror movie? The kind where innocent, stupid, gullible young girls wound up chopped into bits and fed to the sharks?
“Theresa gave me a reading list for college prep a few months back,” she said, voice stiff. When she’d seen the slim volume, she figured she’d give it a try. “Books she said I should read in my spare time to get ready.”
“Are you planning on attending university?” Kaio’s voice as he asked the question held authentic interest, even the warmth of approval, without a hint of doubt.
“Hoping to.” Fen softened at the enthusiasm in his tone. She was skeptical herself. Community college for an associate’s degree in some practical subject, okay. Accounting, maybe. But winning the lottery sounded more likely than going to the schools Theresa wanted her to apply to.
“Still, you might have made a more cheerful choice.” Kaio held the book out to her. “A play that concludes with the deaths of the young lovers hardly seems fitting for this bright day.”
“Spoilers!” Fen said with mock indignation as she accepted it.
“I beg your pardon.” Kaio looked taken aback. “I do apologize. I had no intent of ruining…”
“Kidding,” Fen interrupted, waving her hand in the air between them as if erasing his apology. “I know it ends badly. Everyone knows Romeo and Juliet.”
He chuckled, a sound as smooth and sweet as honey. Fen felt a rush of lust as strong as if he’d touched her, stroked her, teased her. She took an involuntary step away from him, cheeks warming, and clutched the book tighter, resisting the urge to tug at the bikini top she wore.
“So you’re back,” she said brightly. “Have they c
aught the guy? Do they need me to come back to identify him?”
“Unfortunately, they have not. I hope you can bear our hospitality for a few days longer?”
“Oh, I think I can survive the torture.”
Kaio smiled at her. Not a condescending smile, not a tolerant smile, a real smile, with laughing eyes. Fen tried not to squeak. She felt feverish, as if the temperature of the blood in her veins had gone up by two degrees.
His voice stayed as even as always, though, as he said, “I, too, appreciate the torture of Caye Laje when I can find the time to be here. It’s my favorite of our homes.”
“I’m sure most people do. It’s beautiful.” Fen looked away from him, glancing around as if to indicate her appreciation of the incredible natural appeal of the scenic island. Mostly, though, she was avoiding his gaze.
Gay, remember, she reminded herself.
Also crazy rich.
Also mysterious and potentially dangerous.
Not the kind of guy to flirt with.
“You’d be surprised,” he said. “It’s… well.” He shook his head, as if dismissing the thought. “Eladio worries that you might be bored. He wonders if you’d like a guide to do some snorkeling. Or diving, of course, if you prefer. The coral reefs are spectacular.”
Snorkeling? Wow, that would be so cool. She’d seen images on television, of course—the brightly-colored fish, the swaying seaweed, the sculptured coral. “Nah, I’m good.”
“Is there some other activity you would prefer?” Kaio spread his hands wide. “We’re quite isolated here. It seemed safest. But if you wish to sail or jet-ski or—”
“I’m good, thanks,” Fen interrupted him. She held up her book. “Reading. Works fine.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgement. “As you wish.”
Fen wanted to melt on the spot.
One big sloppy puddle of girl goo.
She’d been five when she’d fallen in love with The Princess Bride. How many times had she and her mom watched it over the years, curled up on the couch together, tucked under their old green quilt, silent throughout?
In the early days, she’d fallen asleep leaning up against her mother, hearing her heartbeat, feeling her warmth. Later, maybe around ten, she’d stayed perched on her side of the couch, still under the quilt, but always resentful. One more move. One more new place. Always another school, always another set of new friends or not. Why couldn’t they stay still?
And later again, after her mom had gotten sick, Fen would be curled up next to her, stroking her hair, trying not to worry, trying to fall into the movie and let it take her away, let it take her to a happier place, one where mostly dead meant totally curable, and all dead, it just didn’t happen.
As you wish.
Asshole.
Kaio didn’t appear to notice her glare.
Fen wanted to snap at him, to tell him to go to hell, to call him names out loud. Maybe even give him a good sharp kick to the shin or other parts that would hurt worse. But she refrained. He couldn’t possibly know what he’d said.
“My sister Gaelith accompanied me to the island. Would you care to join us for lunch?”
Fen’s eyebrows raised in surprise.
His sister?
The idea was terrifying. She was bound to be as beautiful, rich, and vaguely aristocratic as her brothers. She’d probably spend the whole meal looking down her nose at Fen as if the cat had dragged her in.
But lunch with him might be a chance to ask questions. Not the big ones, of course. What was that fairy-tale with the girl whose curiosity got her into deep shit? Right, Bluebeard. No, if there were any locked doors, Fen wasn’t going to touch them. But she could ask a few subtle questions, like where did he go to school? What did he do? Where were the other homes he’d mentioned? Why did he only hire men and was he an alien planning to conquer the earth? Okay, maybe she’d skip the last two.
Plus, she wanted to know what was happening back in Chicago. Did the police have any leads? Was Theresa all right? Had they found Zach?
She forced a smile and said, “I’d love to.”
His expression didn’t change but something about the tilt of his head looked cautious as he gestured toward the house. She fell into step next to him as they walked up the beach.
“No towel,” he said, the words an observation.
She glanced down at herself. Was he suggesting that she should wrap herself up, that she needed to be wearing more than the skimpy bikini that barely covered her?
Probably she ought to have figured out how to tie the squares of cloth she’d found in her room into some kind of beach cover-up. She’d tried. A knot here, a knot there. But the stupid things fell off as soon as she started to walk and she’d decided not to worry about it. Mistake, apparently.
“Do you not go into the water?”
“Not today,” she answered. “Thanks for the clothes, though.”
He looked surprised. “You are most welcome. Ah, I almost forgot. I brought this for you.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a closed hand, which he opened to reveal Fen’s lucky crystal.
Her smile was involuntary, her “Thank you,” warm with gratitude as she took it from him.
“I wasn’t sure if it might be valuable.”
Fen shot him a glance out of the corner of her eye. The rounded blue stone had been with her through misery and worse, but it was just a dumb rock really. Rich guy had to realize it was worthless in people terms. What was his deal?
“Nostalgia,” she told him.
“Oh?” The word invited her to say more.
Fen didn’t want to accept the invitation. “My mom gave it to me.”
“Ah, then a treasure indeed. I am glad I could return it to you.”
Fen blinked hard. Asshole. Jerk, creep, loser, miserable cretin. But insulting him silently wasn’t making her feel better. “Thank you,” she said over the lump in her throat. “I’m grateful.”
She didn’t have any pockets—skimpy bikinis weren’t good for that—but she tightened her hand around her crystal. I miss her.
How can I help?
Fen’s fingers opened involuntarily and she dropped the crystal onto the sand in shock. What the hell was that? That sound, in her head. It hadn’t been her. It had been a voice with a murmur of other voices beneath it, a chorus of background responses.
Fuck.
She was hallucinating.
The memories flowed into her mind, images of the weeks before her mother's death surging up out of the depths where she’d buried them. Coming home from school to find the furniture barricading the doors. The careful negotiations. The desperate nights. Begging that idiot doctor at the hospital to listen to her. He’d made up his mind, though, and refused to see beyond what he expected to see.
Kaio bent to pick the crystal up. “Are you well?” he asked as he straightened, holding out the crystal to her, his eyes intent on her face.
Dread tasted bitter, Fen discovered. Would she wish someday that her would-be murderer had succeeded? But she pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind and stuffed down the emotions that went with them. “Fine, thank you.” She reached out and let him drop the crystal into her hand.
They’d reached the wide back patio of the house. Carefully not thinking, she said, “I’ll just go get changed.”
“Of course.” Kaio glanced up at the sky and the sun overhead. “Lunch will be served in the formal dining room today. Do you know it or shall I send someone to show you the way?”
Fen paused, one foot on the bottom step of the outside stairs that led up to the second floor balcony and her room. “Is that the one with the murals, near the library?”
“Indeed.”
Despite her preoccupation, Fen wanted to grimace with distaste. Why would anyone use that room? The murals were horrible. Oh, probably artistic enough—she was no judge—but who wanted to eat surrounded by images of death and destruction?
“I like the breakfast room,” she told Kaio, hoping
he’d change his plans. The name of the room made it sound intimidating, as if there’d be fancy art on the walls and she’d have to perch on a silk couch making awkward conversation with a snooty old lady. But it was more like an open patio, with tiled floors and cozy chairs and flowers growing everywhere. Fen loved it.
“As do I,” he responded. “However the dining room is better suited for today’s meal.”
“We having steak tartare?”
A corner of Kaio’s mouth lifted, but he said, “I believe Eladio’s menu plan calls for fruit salad, grilled shrimp, rice and beans, with a caramel flan for dessert.”
Fen didn’t see why they couldn’t just as easily eat fruit salad in the breakfast room, but Kaio clearly didn’t intend to change the meal’s location. “I can find it.”
“Then I shall meet you there.”
As Kaio headed into the house, Fen walked up the stairs, still trying not to think, not to let the memories take over. At the top of the steps, she paused. To the left, a long oceanfront balcony led to several rooms, among them hers. To the right, a corridor led into the interior of the house.
Luke’s room was in that direction. She’d visited him there every day, short visits only, because he spent most of his time drugged and asleep. Today, the door was open and voices came from within. One of them sounded female. Curious, she took a few steps closer.
“Indeed, our brother was most persuasive.” Yep, it was a feminine voice. “And the girl? What think you?”
Fen froze. Oh, God, they were talking about her. Shit, she was eavesdropping on a conversation about herself. How classic was that?
A light rumble had to be Luke’s response, but Fen couldn’t make out the words.
“I heard the call. Definitely a curiosity.”
A curiosity? Was she the curiosity? Fen would have liked to make a crude gesture at the owner of that elegant voice, but she couldn’t bring herself to move.
