Villa Blue

by Isla Dean

  After hearing the man’s words, reading what she saw in his eyes, she’d made her decision. “You two take a break from painting and sex and whatever else you do in here, and you come join me for dinner tonight. Then you have a deal. Two weeks.” She cupped his face, gave it a little pat.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ivy painted from sparkling dawn to soft dusk each day that week, while Aiden worked from his laptop under the arches of Villa Blue.

  He considered it nothing short of an existence any man would envy. His work was his own—creating a business plan, drafting agreements, researching contractors—and his view was of a beautiful fairy with flowing blond hair piled sexily on her head and a paintbrush in her hand. And behind her was the second-best thing about the view—the harbor, where boats skimmed the water, sailing to and from Parpadeo Island.

  They’d gotten into a routine, he and Ivy, and he surprised himself by liking it. There hadn’t been any need or desire for routine before, but the easy way of it was fitting.

  And that was just it—he and Ivy fit together.

  Their respective families had largely left them alone—except for the almost hourly calls with his brothers—which left them to create a unit of sorts. They were two people, working as a pair against the odds, making their way in the world.

  Guests came and went from their world, stayed for a night or two in the villa. And he’d managed to convince Ivy to join in the main dining room each evening for lively company and cheerful conversations with visitors from across the globe. He liked that; he liked being at the base and having people come to where he was. He’d gone around the world, and now the world was coming to him, passing through the doors of Villa Blue.

  When the call of the passenger ferry reached up the hill, he closed his laptop and made his way toward Ivy.

  “Don’t you come any closer.” She pointed her watercolor brush at him like a weapon. “You know better.”

  “Yes, yes I do. You ready to meet my brothers?”

  “What? Now? I thought they were coming in on the evening ferry.”

  “They are. That is the evening ferry.” He flicked a thumb toward the harbor.

  Panic coated her face. “I can’t meet them like this. I’m a mess. I lost track of time.”

  “I like you messy.”

  The panic edged back just a smidge. “I like being messy with you.”

  With an eyebrow raised in intrigue, he approached.

  In response, she held up a firm hand and pushed him away. “No peeking. And your brothers, remember?”

  “What brothers?”

  “Mm hmm.” Feeling particularly feline, she allowed for a quick flash of a moment to imagine her and Aiden—naked, sweaty, devouring each other—then gave herself a mental cold shower.

  “I want to do whatever you’re thinking about right now,” he told her.

  Her face glowed. “Get out of my head, mister, and go meet your brothers. I’ll haul my stuff in, take a quick shower—a cold one,” she said from beneath lowered lashes, letting him know he’d been on target. “Then I’ll come down and meet you boys in town. The dive bar or wine bar?”

  “Wine. We’ll hit dive first then migrate by the time you get down there.”

  “Okay. I won’t be long.”

  “Take your time. Then later you can take your time showing me what you were thinking about.”

  She hummed out her response. “Aren’t you a lucky man that I was thinking that very same thing.”

  “Damn lucky. And let’s hope luck is on both our sides and my brothers will put their money where their mouth is. Mouths are? You know what I’m saying.”

  “I do.”

  “You always do. Have I thanked you for that?”

  “I’ll let you thank me later,” she playfully purred out.

  By the time she made her way down the hill, the sky had intensified into bright pink and orange puffs, like giant scoops of raspberry and orange sorbet, she thought.

  Had she remembered to eat anything?

  She’d made solid progress toward her gallery show, overshooting the goal even, thanks to the fire that’d ignited in her. She had a total of seventeen paintings now framed and at the Lemieux Gallery, and she would keep any new paintings on hand in case one of the local galleries called for additional pieces.

  Inspiration had fueled her. Frustration had fueled her. Phenomenal sex had fueled her. Never had she felt so free, so utterly full of life that flowed through her in an endless, moving stream.

  No, it wasn’t a stream, she corrected as she reached the road at the bottom of the hill. It was a rush, more like a waterfall of energy that poured through her.

  Basically she’d kicked artist block’s ass, like Aiden had said.

  And hadn’t it been nice having Aiden working nearby? Generally she preferred solitude but his presence somehow helped her to focus more fully on her work, as if his strength held up other parts of the world so she could give her total attention to her art and not worry about the sky falling.

  And wasn’t he doing a good job with that sky? she decided, amused. Color held in it, vibrant and rambling, and people wandered just a little closer to one another as they strolled through town and along the water’s edge.

  Though she hadn’t paid much attention to the romance of the island—for her it was the calm solitude that had drawn her—it lulled her now.

  As she arrived at the wine bar, she was lost in the dreamy beauty of the clouds, the meandering moment of awe, and had momentarily forgotten the purpose of the trip to town.

  Brothers, she thought duly. Brothers who may or may not invest in Villa Blue.

  What was it like to have brothers? she wondered as she searched for them. What would Aiden be like with them?

  She imagined a sculpture of three Greek gods holding up the expansive stretch of sky.

  And as she spotted the James brothers out on the patio of the wine bar, holding court beneath a warm sheath of pink from the sunset, she grinned generously. She hadn’t been too far off in that little daydream.

  Enjoying the picture they made—three masculine men, each with rich brown hair, solid builds, a mix of depth and humor and omnipotence emanating—she wondered how many onlookers had been startled by their collective presence. Ivy approached feeling her own startled pulse thrum wildly.

  “You made it.” Aiden pulled her in for a quick kiss, adding blush to her cheeks that were already enlivened by the vivid sunset.

  “I did. And I’m ready for wine after I meet everyone. I’m Ivy,” she said, offering her hand.

  “This is Emmett. The middle brother, the nerdy brother.”

  “The sensible brother,” Emmett rose and shook Ivy’s hand.

  “And that’s Logan. The baby of the family.”

  “Just for that you’re buying the next bottle,” he informed Aiden with a clever grin. “Cab okay?” he asked Ivy after shaking her hand.

  “Terrific, thank you. So what do you gentlemen think of Parpadeo? It’s the perfect night for you to arrive.” Ivy sat in the chair next to Aiden as Logan filled her glass from the bottle in the center of the table.

  “Paradise,” Logan replied, leaning back in his chair, holding up his glass. “To paradise. And to engaging our father in a bidding war. Well done, Aiden.”

  Ivy sipped then looked to Aiden. “Bidding war?”

  “Donatella informed me before I left that he upped his offer. Once he got wind that Logan and Emmett were headed this way, he figured he’d take the wind from our sails before our boat got on the water, so to speak.”

  “How much did he up the offer?”

  “Too damn much.”

  Compassionately, Ivy looked to Aiden then to his brothers, but found their faces painted with delight. “I’m failing to see the silver lining. Fill me in?”

  “Logan here, the wild card of the bunch, if you couldn’t tell,” Emmett motioned to Logan’s white T-shirt with a red wine stain striped down the chest, dark, disheveled hair, and half
-cocked grin. “He did some digging—”

  “Always do.”

  “It’s what he does. He finds things under the radar,” Aiden put in.

  “He’s your regular James Bond-meets-Pigpen,” Emmett declared, earning a laugh from Aiden.

  “Fantastic image,” Ivy added, sipping, enjoying herself.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Logan responded with a face that looked more proud than pissed at the comparison. “Are you going to finish your damn story, Grandpa, or do I have to?”

  “So Logan here dug and found out that Warren Townsend is in a serious bind with a few of the investors on the Parpadeo Island Project.”

  “That’s what he’s apparently dubbed his takeover of the place,” Aiden told Ivy.

  “His investors—who have some funky clauses in their contracts—were sold on the idea that the island would be privatized within a year and that they would be granted exclusive VIP access.” Emmett paused to drink.

  “Who the hell buys into crap like that?” Logan asked.

  “Winks and nods go a long way. You, of all people, know that,” Aiden reminded him.

  “I thought that only applied to my winks and nods. They’re potent stuff. Check this out,” Logan instructed then mockingly demonstrated winking and nodding, making Ivy chuckle.

  “And now,” Emmett continued, interrupting Logan’s show. “The majority of the town’s promenade is in escrow, and some of the investors are realizing that those winks and nods were worthless and that Townsend’s offers on the other major commercial pieces—Villa Blue being one of them—have been turned down. And some of those investors want out.”

  Ivy frowned, leaned forward. “I didn’t realize Townsend had put in an offer on Villa Blue.”

  “He didn’t. That’s just the thing. Once his investors got wind of him being full of shit, pardon my language,” Emmett told Ivy, “they went at him with pickaxes yesterday. He told them he’d made the initial offers but that he’d anticipated the very responses he’d received—no—and that it was all part of the larger strategy: buy the majority of the promenade, hike up the rent so no one can afford it, then once the businesses close, the real estate values will plummet, and he steps in, offers pennies on the dollar, and buys himself an island. It’s all deception.”

  “On top of bullshit,” Logan finished. “He never made those offers, he just needed his investors not to back out.”

  “How do you know all of this?” Ivy asked.

  “I’m that good.” Logan grinned at her then waved down a server for another bottle. “And that guy is paying for this one.” He jabbed a finger toward Aiden.

  Once the server left, Logan leaned in closer. “The businesses in town are pissed now that they’re hearing what the real plan is—to basically run the locals out by artificially jacking up prices. They’re working with a lawyer to see if they can file any lawsuits against Townsend and drop out of escrow without penalty. They know he’s actively trying to privatize the island but they didn’t know that a few days ago so it’s all moving fast.”

  “You’ve been here thirty minutes and you know all of this?” Ivy asked.

  “Ran into a pretty redhead on my way to the bathroom. Sassy and chatty. Just how I like ‘em.”

  “You like them any way they come,” Aiden reminded him.

  “It’s true,” Logan confirmed proudly. “Tall, short, curvy, straight, giggly, serious, whatever. I just like women. Plus they smell better than men.”

  “Only Logan can find a woman in less than an hour of arriving on a postage stamp in the middle of the Pacific,” Emmett declared.

  “I found Ivy in under an hour.”

  “Or maybe I found you,” Ivy tossed back.

  “You two met in under an hour? See,” Logan sent Emmett a swaggering look, “it’s only you who lacks skills with the ladies. Maybe you were adopted.”

  Emmett’s mouth hardened. “I have skills.”

  “You should use those skills to think of better comebacks. Good try though,” Logan informed Emmett, earning a scowl in response.

  “Aiden and I jumped off a cliff minutes after we met,” Ivy added, joining the brotherly banter. “I jumped,” she said emphatically. “Off of a cliff.”

  Logan and Emmett chimed together in appropriately supportive noises of amazement.

  “Sounds like something our boy Aiden would suggest.” Logan nodded. “What’s important here is that it’s clear to Ivy that Aiden and I have skills. I’m the charming one…” He grinned, wiggled his eyebrows.

  “And extremely humble,” Emmett added.

  “I’m the charming one,” Logan repeated. “Aiden is the rebel. And Emmett is the boring Betty.”

  “What he means is responsible,” Emmett translated for Ivy. “And as the responsible one, I’ll remind us that we better get this plan mapped out if we’re going to move forward. We’ve got to move fast to move forward.”

  Ivy eyed the men. “Move forward with what?”

  “We’re going to steal Townsend’s unhappy investors, and we’re going to buy the town out from under him. Now that we know the current property owners want out of escrow, our jobs just got easier. Townsend did all the legwork, sold them the idea, then misstepped and pissed off his investors, so we sweep in and steal them, give them a better deal they can’t refuse.” A sly grin tugged on Aiden’s face as he laid a hand on Ivy’s leg in a gesture that had become intimately familiar. “What do you think?”

  “You’re going to buy the town? What about Villa Blue?” She glanced around at each of the men—appreciating that they were the best looking group of men she’d ever seen—wondering if the island knew what it was in for. And she wondered what it would all mean for her.

  “Need to figure out the other pieces of the puzzle first, otherwise Villa Blue won’t hold value,” Aiden explained. “Then we’ll figure out a way to either get our father to drop the offer to Donatella, or to use it to our advantage and let him—and his money—in on the promenade deal.”

  “Sneaky.” Her mind spun, trying to keep up with the moving pieces. “Is this the way you guys usually operate? It sounds like a chess game. I’d be nervous, but none of you seem nervous, you seem…” She scanned them again. “Eager.”

  “It’s chess and high stakes poker all rolled into one,” Logan said then swallowed his last sip. “Let the wild ride begin.”

  She let out a breath. “I don’t usually like wild rides but since I met this guy, I’ve been jumping off cliffs and flying through trees at night. I generally prefer to paint cliffs and trees from afar, with my feet firmly on the ground.”

  Aiden planted a teasing kiss on her lips. “You better buckle your seatbelt then. This could get bumpy.”

  “You say that like it appeals to you.”

  “The bumpy roads are the fun ones.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The following week gave Ivy a painter’s view into how the James boys worked. Appropriately armed with a paintbrush, she studied them from her favorite perch as they ran business from the shaded arches of the veranda.

  Aiden placed calls and had what Ivy considered a fun habit of standing in the middle of an archway, staring out to the sea while he talked. Emmett held court from behind the outdoor table he’d turned into his desk, and Logan chatted away on his phone with his feet propped up on a nearby table.

  The three of them made quite the picture, and Ivy painted that picture, capturing three businessmen in the thick of it.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help, but business, specifically the chess/poker part of things, wasn’t her area of expertise and she had her own business to tend to anyway.

  She’d updated her website with photos of her latest work, answered questions via email with a reporter from the San Francisco Chronicle for a piece about her show, and she’d responded to an email from The California Sunday Magazine letting them know she’d be honored to provide an interview for a feature story touting her as an up-and-coming California-based artist.

&nbs
p; Of course, the idea of doing an in-person interview made her pulse palpitate.

  She knew interviews and public relations in general were necessary, but for Ivy, they were a necessary evil. They relied upon words—verbal communications—and her more comfortable medium was that of the visual variety. If she could speak only through her art and leave the words for others, she’d be a happy camper.

  Though, she thought idly as she saturated her brush with Cobalt Blue paint, the jittery palpitations were somewhat calmed by the blissful fact that she could conduct business from a hill high above a harbor, complete with salty breezes, swooping birds, and a sexy man who, even with the slightest of grins, made her heart thump eagerly.

  As she was working on a new style, a vivid combination of rhythmic brush strokes, her head tilted to view the current experiment from a different angle. While her paintings generally bled over into abstract expressionism, this movement of paint—bright and translucent—gave life to not just what she saw, but expressed how she saw it in a living, breathing way.

  Her subjects—Aiden, Emmett, and Logan—were each handsome in their own way. Sturdy, focused, thoughtful. As a pack, they were easily comfortable in their surroundings, but they also managed to thrust forward, out into the world. Strength and vitality filled the painting, along with a buzz of mischief that rode through like a gust of wind an outsider couldn’t help but lean into.

  Ivy was filling in the final impulsive lines of shadows, popping the colors even further, as she wondered what she’d call the painting.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Donatella’s white dishtowel waving through the air.

  “Bella! Bella! I come in peace!”

  Laughing, Ivy took one more glance at the painting and motioned for Donatella to approach.

  “I get to look? Sex has turned you into someone else!”