by Amy Valenti
“Then what?”
I sighed. “I think all the time it was just lukewarm. I mean, yeah, he was kind of handsome. He had his own look, you know? You’ve seen him, right?”
“Yeah. I remember.”
“And not a bad body, either.”
“Bit thin.”
“I don’t mind them thin.”
“Bit flaccid. In personality, I mean!”
“Come on, don’t be like that, Scar.”
“You’ve got to admit, Maya! I mean, the last time I saw him, he seemed to have all the backbone of an earthworm. Or a noodle! Admittedly, you had just started dating him. Maybe he was holding back.”
I sighed. “He wasn’t. Don’t laugh! Okay, so he wasn’t very forceful. That wasn’t his style. Well, until he got defensive. Then it was battle stations, or something.” I flashed a look of irritation. I didn’t much want to have these memories dredged up. Scarlett caught it. She always did have a high EQ.
“Sorry, Maya.”
“No, it’s fine. The wound is still a bit fresh. Anyway, we weren’t, you know, super-hot the whole time or anything. I mean, yeah, we were close sometimes. But-”
“It was never spectacular.”
I shook my head slowly. “No. But this is life! You don’t always get the spectacular.” But even the words sounded unconvincing and hollow to me. “I don’t know, Scar. I’m looking back at the years we spent together… and I’m just asking myself, ‘why?’ you know? Why did I stick it out? I can see now all the signs that pointed to us not working. We grew apart. We stopped having sex. We just… shared a place. We were like housemates for the last year! I mean… can you believe that? He used to look at me when I got out of the shower, slap my bum while I tried to put on my clothes, all those little annoying things that you don’t realize stop happening until you look back at it, and realize that… well… they just stopped.” I bit back an outburst of emotion. “I don’t know. I’m such an idiot. The signs were all there. Everything changed. We held hands, but out of habit. We faced away from each other in bed. We didn’t even cuddle on the sofa when we watched films together.”
“Maya—”
“God, I sound so naïve. I know that these things fade. Just… well, I don’t know how to explain it. But looking back, it was so, so obvious. Why didn’t I see it, Scar? Why did I let things go to where they went? I could have focused more on my career, or even gone traveling! I’ve always wanted to travel, but Bradley never did, and—”
“Maya! From where I’m standing, you ditched a man who was no good for you. And that’s something a smart person does. So, in my book, you’re no idiot, Maya.” She touched my arm, and I forced a smile. “You did the right thing. Don’t worry about the timing of it.”
“I did ditch him, didn’t I?”
“He was a prick. He cheated on you. He tried to blame you for it, too!” Scarlett huffed. “And so you chucked him into the rubbish. Right?”
“Right,” I said.
“And now we’re about to go to a private restaurant and be a part of some very rich, very exclusive company. Well, exclusive for out here, anyway.”
“Any hotties?” I asked, half-joking.
“There may be,” Scarlett said. “One time I went, there was a whole group of male models. You know, the mixed-race boys who are all really pretty? They do underwear stuff, and shoots for local clothing brands, and stuff like that. All speak English, too. Educated in America and Canada, or even born there.”
I sat up, and looked my sister dead in the eyes. “Well why didn’t you say so earlier? Tell the driver to crank up the engine! Let’s go!”
She laughed. “They were like… eighteen or nineteen!”
“Still.” I took a deep breath. “Wouldn’t mind spying some eye candy. I don’t mind a pretty boy. Especially if he’s got a good bod.”
“Oh, they have. You’d like ‘em if you like the lean body type. You know, like Brad Pitt from Fight Club.”
I grinned at Scarlett. “He’s better in Snatch, even with that awful accent.”
Scarlett hummed. “Myself? I prefer someone with a bit more meat on them.”
“You did always go for the beefy ones in school. Rugby players, was it? Can’t remember now.”
“I dated a boy who was on the shot-put team, too.”
I snorted. “What? Seriously? We even had a shot-put team?”
“Course we did, Maya. Track and field.”
“Oh, yeah. I hated P.E.”
“Anyway, enough talk about the past. My point is, who knows who we’ll meet. I mean, you could get lucky.”
“Right,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’m not like that.”
“No, stupid. I meant get lucky meeting a nice man, not get lucky like get a bit of di-”
“Shush!” I cried, putting a finger in front of my lips. “Keep that to yourself.” I got up, and remembered that I was still in my bikini. “Damn.”
“What?”
“Are you going to the restaurant in your bathing suit?”
Scarlett jerked her head back a bit. “Of course.”
“Is that what they do?”
“Well, yeah, sort of.”
“Nah, I think I’m going to put my shorts back on, at least.”
“Maya, little sister, just do whatever makes you feel comfortable. I mean, we’re going there for lunch. That’s all! You’re not going on a blind date or anything. This isn’t some match-making club or a swinger’s secret meeting or anything. Relax, would you? Besides, you look great.”
“No I don’t.”
Scarlett got up and gripped me by the shoulders. “What happened to your confidence? You’re a beautiful, young woman, and you’ve got a thick ass, and men love that!”
“Bradley didn’t.”
“I knew I should have forced you two apart before I left. It was obvious he was no good for you.”
“You left because you fell out with Mum. That’s on you.”
“I left because Mum couldn’t handle me dating what she thought was a bad boy just because he had a tattoo, a tongue ring, and wore baggy jeans.”
I nodded. “Point taken.”
“Come on, let’s go do something. Want to get into the big rubber ring and let the boat pull us?”
My eyes lit up. “Hell, yes!”
*
CHAPTER FOUR
I saw him while sipping from my gin-and-tonic. A thin face with high cheekbones, strong jaw, and nose straight as an arrow. He was striking, had about him an unconventional attractiveness. His mouth, though small, sported generous lips, and his eyes were narrow, as though he had secrets to keep.
Tipsy – I was on my third drink – I grinned to myself, replaying my sister’s words in my head that maybe I would get lucky and meet a nice man. Only… the more I stole glances at him, the more I realized he didn’t look like a nice man. He did look like a powerful man, though.
Dressed in a loose-fitting and clearly-expensive white shirt, complete with equally expensive shoes and trousers, I wondered if this was the billionaire recluse. He certainly looked the part, if in a slightly old-fashioned way. His hard eyes seemed to survey the scene, soak up the sight of everything as though he wanted nothing to pass him by. But he did so dismissively, too, as though nothing passed muster.
He took out his phone, and his expression changed. His lips formed into a scowl, and his cheeks became gaunt as he let his mouth fall open. I was looking at anger, but not the kind that resulted in an outburst. This was controlled. This was restrained. Bad business deal? Stock market crash? Who knew?
He looked up from his phone, then, and his eyes met mine. I instantly looked away, cheeks burning. Fuck! I had been caught. That was embarrassing. I let a few seconds pass by, and chanced a look at him. He was still staring at me. I wilted immediately, and looked away.
I was feeling uncomfortable, now. Looking back up at him again, I saw him still staring at me, face blank, expressionless. His axe-like jaw was clenched, as though he were biting d
own on his own teeth. I looked away again. It was time to move.
Day bag? Check. Drink? Check. Phone? Check.
Ready to leave, I looked once more at him. He wasn’t looking at me anymore. His eyes were turned on his phone again. Maybe I wouldn’t have to move. I sipped from my drink, and looked in his direction again, across a wooden platform. He was gone. His table was empty. Somehow, I felt disappointed, and began to look around for Scarlett, desiring her company again.
“May I join you?”
I jolted, shocked, and turned wide-eyed to see him standing behind me, his neatly-trimmed hair ruffling a little in the breeze. He smiled at me, and it was dazzling, but only for a moment. The smile faded, and hard eyes considered me.
“Um,” I said. “O-okay.”
“Thank you.” He pulled out a chair, and sat down beside me, crossing a leg, and rested his arms on the table. His sleeves were rolled up, and I saw defined forearms, powerful, riddled with veins. His wide shoulders, and the shape of his collar bones, told me this man kept in shape.
“My name is Javier Soria.” He spoke with an accent, and I while I struggled to place it, it dawned on me that this was the reclusive billionaire, owner of the floating restaurant, and Club Soria.
I gulped. “Maya,” I whispered. “Maya Wilson.”
“It’s lovely to meet you, Maya.” He put out a hand, and I took it. It was huge, and it swallowed mine up. “I saw you looking at me.”
I shook my head slightly, feeling my cheeks grow hot. “Um, I was just looking around.”
“Did you want to speak with me?”
I nodded. I guess I had been caught. There was no point in lying now. “You looked different from everybody else here.”
“That’s because I am different from everybody else here. Do you know who I am?”
“Yes,” I chanced. “You own this restaurant.”
“Among other things, yes. So you’ve heard of me, then, Ms. Wilson?”
“You can call me Maya,” I offered, though I realized my voice was not full of conviction.
“Maya is a lovely name. What does it mean?”
I smiled. “Don’t know.”
“It is not a name I hear often.”
“I think it’s a bit uncommon.”
“I like it,” he said. He smiled. His face lit up, blinded me. “I like it a lot.”
“Thanks,” I said, laughing softly. “That’s the first time anyone has ever said anything about my name.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s true,” I said, shrugging. He looked at me, then, out of level eyes. I squirmed. I felt uncomfortable.
“Was there something I could, uh-”
“Don’t worry,” he said. He put out a hand and touched the top of mine. I jumped when our flesh met. “You need not do anything, for now.”
“For now?”
“Yes.”
The obvious question came next. “What about later?”
“Later, you will board my speedboat, and we will go to my club, and I will show you around.”
For some reason, I dared not smirk. “That’s it? I don’t get a say in the matter?”
Javier Soria blinked. “No. But you want to, anyway.”
“I’m here with my sister,” I began, but he cut me off.
“She can stay aboard the restaurant and amuse herself. There is much fun to be had here.”
I sat, bewildered. A spark of indignation flared within me, and I shook my head. “Uh-uh. I don’t think you’re just going to tell me what to do, Mr. Soria.”
“Call me Javier, if you prefer.”
“I don’t.”
He leaned back, and grinned. He looked so at ease, so comfortable. I found it intimidating, inaccessible. I supposed this was what billionaires were like. You had to have a certain sort of personality to become that rich.
“It would please me if you joined me, Maya. There is a resort behind the club, private, invite-only. It is luxurious, and can provide anything you might need. Would you consider staying there, with me?”
I laughed louder, now, feeling my confidence growing. “So, what, now you’re asking?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you want me to go with you?”
“Truthfully, it is because you have a lovely name, and a lovely face. Your demeanor could use some work, admittedly, but I believe you to be a beautiful woman. I am curious to get to know you.”
“My demeanor?” I asked, shaking my head, feeling judged. What an odd way to put it.
“Yes. Now, Maya.” He leaned forward, brought himself closer to me. “Why don’t we set off?”
I laughed again in disbelief, and he stood up, extending a hand. “No, thanks,” I said, looking away.
“Your choice.” He turned swiftly, and walked away, strides long and confident.
I couldn’t deny it to myself. I was a little intrigued, but the man seriously needed to brush up on his manners. He might be some hotshot billionaire used to getting what he wants, but I wasn’t going to capitulate so easily.
But still… I was curious. Draining the last of my gin-and-tonic, I stood up, and called his name. He turned around, one hand in his pocket, looking at me. His expression told me he was… impressed? Amused? I couldn’t tell. But fuck it. I was going to a private resort, and I was going to bring Scarlett with me, and we were going to relax. If the billionaire wanted to comp us, so be it.
“Yes, Maya?”
“I’ll come, but we need to find Scarlett, first.”
“Red hair, right?”
I walked up to him, head titled. “Yes. You were watching us before?”
“Her hair stands out.”
“Not just her hair,” I freely admitted.
“Ah. She’s not my type. You are. I will make an exception and have someone pick her up. She can stay at the resort. You will stay with me, however.”
There it was, again. His manner of speech, the way he seemed to assume I needed his permission. It was odd. Was it because English was likely his second language? I couldn’t tell, but the liquid courage inside me that I’d had three glasses of spurred me on.
“Okay,” I said, smiling. If I had been looking down at myself from outside of my own body, I would have screamed, “What are you doing?!”
He put out an arm, guiding me to his side by the small of my back. His touch made me shiver. There was something eerily casual about the way he initiated physical contact. I didn’t particularly mind it, but I hadn’t ever been around a man like that before.
I looked at him, and he just smiled. I took his arm. I don’t know why, but I slipped my arm under his, felt his hard muscle through his thin shirt, and I walked with him, in step, by his side.
It was strangely thrilling. My whole body buzzed with life. I couldn’t believe that I was doing this, just going along with it.
“Javier,” I said. “How did you make your money?”
“I own a number of companies,” he told me matter-of-factly. “I have a presence in multiple markets.”
“Like what?”
“Import-export, tech, and some emerging markets.”
“I see,” I murmured.
We walked in silence as he led me through the floating restaurants. We took easy steps through tables, and most people didn’t look, but some did, evidently spying who he was.
I caught the eye of an older woman, red sarong and floral bikini top, and she… she seemed to nod at me. Did she know who he was?
“Just this way, Maya.”
“Okay,” I said, my voice quieter now. The initial thrill was starting to calm, and I was beginning to wonder if my judgment was compromised, if I should really just be letting myself be whisked away like this to some place I didn’t know.
We reached his boat, moored to the side of the restaurant. It had two motors, and was long and narrow. Javier guided me down the steps, and I hopped onto the boat, feeling it move beneath me. Steadying myself against the side, he jumped in after me, landing
steadily and going straight to the aft.
“Please, sit,” he said, gesturing at a single, cushioned bench that lined the interior of the small speedboat. I did, he started the engines, unmoored us, and then zoomed off. The boat was moving so fast it seemed to float above the water, just kissing the tops of waves, making loud slaps intermittently.
I turned around to look at him. The wind had snatched his hair back, but otherwise he looked completely unaltered by the experience. It was my first time in a speedboat, and each time the vessel lurched into the air riding a wave, my stomach was sent into my intestines.
Rounding the land-arm of a cove, I saw a small beach, no doubt his private beach. On it was a building, nondescript, spare, even. Behind it I could see the sprawl of the luxury resort he had mentioned, complete with palm trees, naturally.
The boat slapped down, and seawater sprayed into my mouth. I laughed, wiping it from my face, and turned again to look at him. He smiled at me.
I thought about saying something, but knew he’d not hear me. The wind was too loud. It was a roar in my ears.
I spied a modest pier jutting out into the sea from the beach, and Javier took us in smoothly. The motors stopped screaming and started merely growling, and then dropped to a low rumble.
“We’re here,” he told me. He tied a quick knot, mooring the speedboat, and got off, before putting his hand out for me to take.
I held it, clasping onto his fingers. It made my heart quicken when we touched. It was a nervous energy, and I could feel it welling in my belly.
Standing behind him now, I noticed that he was quite tall. Robert back home was six-foot on the dot, or so Mum said, anyway. I’d guess Javier had at least three inches on him. I felt dwarfed, tiny. His wide shoulders and long torso cast a shadow that I could easily stand in.
“This is it? Your club?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of club is it?” I asked.
“A very specific one,” he told me, before placing a palm on the small of my back and guiding me forward. We walked without talking, and stepped off the pier. I took off my flip-flops, and felt the fine-as-flour grains of sand in between my toes.
“This is a lovely beach.” The water was picturesque. I felt like I was walking in a travel agent’s advertisement poster.
