by Xyla Turner
"What do you think you're doing?" the man snapped at me.
Goddammit.
It was the guy from earlier.
Again.
"You!" I sneered. "I should have known your rude ass would be here. Fine, I'm taking the shrimp that I would have gotten off the tray from your plate."
I grabbed six of his twelve shrimp and proceeded to take a bite from the top of each one, just in case he had thought to try and take them back.
He openly stared at me, and then said with a growl, "You feel better?"
I took another bite off the last shrimp and made a short humming noise. "Well." I looked at his plate and grabbed another one and said, "Yeah, now I do."
Turning to face him, I saw that he no longer had a hood on but his long hair was still blocking most of his face. The man seemed to be older, maybe in his late thirties or early forties. I noted that he had a dangerous or daring vibe about him besides those dark eyes of his. His rudeness matched his demeanor. Before I could say something else snarky, the villain snatched the shrimp out of my hand and took his own bite. Then he had the nerve to laugh. It must have been the look on my face because he started laughing hard, which I thought would be the perfect opportunity to snatch the shrimp back from him. To my dismay, he moved his hand just as I lunged for it, causing me to launch on top of him to reach for it above his head. When I stopped moving, I realized my breasts were in his face, his arm was wrapped around my thighs and he was looking up at me in shock.
It was then I noticed the scar that he had to the right of his eye. It looked like someone had taken a serrated knife and cut him from the hairline on his forehead straight down, over his eye to the middle part of his cheek. Oddly enough, his eye was intact but it was a nasty scar and he was hyper aware of it because he said, "Get a good look? Happy now?"
"Not yet." I kept looking at his eyes as I snatched the shrimp from his hand and popped it in my mouth. "Now I am."
A smirk almost graced his face but he kept holding me to him so that my C-cups were still in his face. I got the distinct feeling that he did not want to let me go, so I nabbed another shrimp off his plate and ate it.
"This arrangement may work. I guess you just have to be rude and bogart your way to get things, so I can come along and take it from you." It was my turn to laugh. "I'm happy now."
My mouth kept chewing the shrimp as he stared at me in amazement. For a guy, his lashes were long, but his lips were sharp like he was born to be an arrogant ass.
I wiggled out of his grasp and slid back into my chair to continue eating my food. Then he asked, "Now, who's being rude?"
My head swiveled around to look at everyone in the room, and then my eyes landed on him. "Still you."
His hair had fallen back over the right side of his face again but his eyes were definitely on me the entire time.
"Please tell me your fantasy is to be less arrogant and rude?" I kept eating my food. "That would be the gracious way to go or will that mess up your reputation?"
"You've got a smart mouth," he replied. "Is your fantasy to be quieter and not yell at strangers?"
At that, I laughed because I had yelled at him twice but he deserved the tongue lashing.
"Nope, people like you deserve to be yelled at." I took a gulp of the drink that was in front of me.
"What are you doing here?" he asked in a sincere tone. "You haven't even lived long enough to know what the real world is about. Why would you want to escape? What are you, twenty-one?"
That comment stopped all laughter as my head turned to glare at the ignoramus.
"I'm twenty-six, for your information. Yes, I've had some horrible things happen to me, also not your business. And since when does having a fantasy have an age-limit?" I turned my body away from him and took another long sip of my Long-Island ice tea.
Several beats later, I heard his gruff voice behind me. "You're right. The name is Travis. You are?"
"Why?" I asked without looking.
"Honestly," he said. "I like sparring with you."
"Oh God," I sighed. "You are one of those evil people that get off by making other people miserable."
My back was still to him as I kept eating and making jabs at the ass.
"I don't get off on other's misery. I get off on a woman's pleasure usually as she's squeezing me tightly or my hand, as of late," he commented.
My head snapped around as my nipples grew hard at his harsh but pointed words. My eyes met his and there was a smirk on his face.
"Really?" I found myself saying. "You thought that was appropriate to say to me?"
"Well, I just wanted to clarify what got me off. You made an assumption about what that could be and I just wanted you to know; you were wrong." He shrugged. "The last part might have been TMI, though."
"Ya think?" I turned back around.
"Well, Miss twenty-six-year-old, I'm sure you'll find what you're looking for on this fantasy island. Good luck with that and since I'm out of coconut shrimp, I'll make my exit." His chair slid across the marble floor.
"You sure you don't want to take food from a baby first?" I smirked as I went to take another bite of my lobster tail.
However, the bastard was quicker than me, stole it from my fork, popped it in his mouth, and bent down to take another one of my shrimp. "I'd rather take yours."
The smell of his cologne in my nostrils almost caused me to lick my lips. Even when he pulled back, the aroma lingered. He smelled damn good and I needed to focus on my food and not the rude jerk eating off my plate.
"Bye, twenty-six," he called as he left.
Ugh.
Undertones: Chapter 2
Travis
Day one and I'd already made an enemy and met a woman; all who happened to be the same person. She was a mouthy one but I'd love to tame her, rendering her speechless. That was reason number one I had to get away from that dinner table. Her in my arms not phased one bit by my scar and letting me hold her showed a symbol of trust, and a complete lack of fear.
Women like that were few and far between, so she had my attention. So much so that I was rushing to my room to relieve myself. I didn't come to Indulgences to meet anyone. Actually, it was quite the opposite. I just wanted the fantasy of getting rid of this scar so I could meet someone, or rekindle my relationship with the one that I'd had.
Justine, my ex-girlfriend, was two days away from being my fiancée. She was successful, intelligent, and a go-getter. The woman had her life planned out and so did I. She was a part of my plan until the attack.
My therapist told me that my thinking of the attack in a negative way led to my bad moods, irritability and mood swings. He suggested I look at it as a way to start over. I almost fired his ass on the spot. There was nothing positive or revolutionary about his diagnosis or solutions. After the attack and my fourth surgery, my long-time girlfriend and future fiancée left me at the hospital, while I was in recovery and never returned. She wouldn't take my calls, ignored me, and had blocked my number. When I came to her house, she sent her friend out to say that she'd get a restraining order if I didn't go away.
Many friends told me that I should have hated the bitch but I understood her rejection. If she was disfigured, what would I have done? Down in my soul, I couldn’t really say what a shallow asshole like myself would have done. However, Justine and I were two of a kind. We were superficial assholes. I knew that about her which was okay, as long as I fit the part.
Twenty-six had made a valid point about my arrogance. If it worked in my favor, I couldn’t give a rat's ass about anyone else. This was my world, until the ugly scar changed that and now I hid from it.
Reclusive, angry, and moody was my normal but for the first time in four months, twenty-six made me laugh. The last time I laughed was moments before the attack. I thought that would have been the last time but this woman did the unexpected. She fucking stole my shrimp off my plate.
Who does that?
After cumming hard at the notion of her m
outh on me, I passed out on the luxury bed wrapped in high count thread sheets. When my eyes opened again, the sun was burning a hole in my chest through the window. Hopping out of the shower, I quickly dried off, went to breakfast in anticipation of seeing twenty-six. The woman was nowhere to be found which was probably good because she was young and I had no business ruining her life with my misery.
Quickly scanning my itinerary, I saw that I was scheduled for the spa session which was always good but I'd never get the facials. That was entirely too intimate and most people stared at my scar, which always made me angry. In no uncertain terms, I could go into beast mode. It was a fitting description of how I felt and how I looked.
After the spa, there were several options of activities to do. The water sports definitely interested the former athlete within me. The resort had shuttles and golf caddies to take us wherever we wanted to go, so I hopped in the caddy. When I arrived, they were about to start and there were seven people there already, so I made it eight. The best part about this decision was when I saw twenty-six there, and she was the odd number out since there were two to a canoe.
I simply walked up behind her and whispered, "Hey, twenty-six."
"Oh God," she hit me in the chest. "You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here? Coming to bring more misery?"
"Nope. I was interested in the water sports and Paddle Boarding was next on the list." I informed the youngster, "Everything doesn't revolve around you."
The woman gave me the side-eye and said, "No, it doesn't because rude, obnoxious men always take up the attention."
Then she turned around and continued to listen to the instructor. I wanted to say something back but she didn't seem as phased by my presence as she was yesterday. She wasn't as snarky.
"So, I see everyone has a partner. Now, let's get to our canoes and please follow my lead," he instructed.
The instructor had on no shirt, low hanging shorts and water shoes. A baseball hat covered his head but every pec on that guy was intimidating and every woman in line had their eyes on him. Then it dawned on me that maybe this was some of their fantasies.
Was it twenty-six's fantasy?
I leaned in and whispered near her ear, "You never told me your name."
"Umm hmm," she confirmed.
"Are you ever going to tell me?" I asked. "If we're going to be in the same boat, just in case you go over, itwould be nice to call you something besides twenty-six."
She looked at the canoe and then looked to me. "It's Bianca."
Nice.
"Bianca," I repeated. "Nice name."
"The man compliments," she said without looking at me.
"What's wrong?" I asked. "You're no fun to spar with this morning."
"Sorry to disappoint," she said absently.
Everybody else was moving toward their designated canoes but she hadn't budged. My shoulder brushed against her back but she was frozen to the spot.
"Bianca, you ready?" I asked her.
"Um, hmm." Her head nodded, with all of her long flowing hair following the motion.
Shit, she was scared.
Nabbing her hand, I pulled her toward the canoe. She followed but was quite reluctant at first. Putting my hands around her waist, I lifted her into the wooden entrapment and sat her between my legs.
"Just follow my motions," I said as I worked overtime to catch up to the rest of the group.
We made it to a nearby island and Bianca hadn't said one word. I couldn’t' see her face but one thing that I gathered was that she was deathly scared of something and was trying to overcome it. This was not her fantasy that was for sure.
"You two made it." The instructor smiled and Bianca had the nerve to smile back.
I shook my head.
"Now you smile," I commented.
Her eyes met mine and she smiled even bigger. Then she murmured, "Thanks. I, um …, am scared of the water."
"Well, then why did you sign up for this?" I asked out of curiosity.
"Overcoming my fears or some shit like that." She sighed. "Guess I thought this was Fantasy Island and I wouldn't have to worry about those fears, huh."
Damn.
"Sweetheart." I lifted her chin with my finger. "Fears don’t go away unless you face them. No island can fix that, not even this one. Our fantasy will be fulfilled but that's only one part of it. Please don't be in delusion about what is really happening here. You're young but you don't strike me as being dumb."
Her eyes bore into mine and then she said, "Never thought I'd say this, but you're right, Travis. My evil nemesis is right."
"Ah, there she goes." I bumped her hip with mine. "She's back."
Bianca had trouble with the first few exercises for Paddle Boarding but with me constantly badgering her, she completed them even though she was livid with me afterward. By the fifth time, she was doing it, just to show me up. Therefore, my master plan had worked. I, being myself, did it ten times better than her to show her how it was done. The feisty woman simply rolled her eyes and sneakily stuck up her middle finger at me.
The one time she stuck it in my face, I wrapped my lips around the single digit and Bianca nearly screamed.
"Oh, you're so nasty," she yelled and hit me in my chest for the second time.
"You haven't seen nasty," I responded and walked away.
When we finished the boarding activities, Bianca confidently got in the canoe on her own.
"Oh, good job, young one," I commented.
"Kiss my ass," she quickly responded.
"When, how, and in which way?" I said without thinking.
She turned and asked, "Are you like this all the time? You growled the entire time on the plane at people, rude the rest of the time, helpful at certain points and now, you're just being sarcastic and flirty. Are you bi-polar?"
For the second time in two days, I laughed out loud. The puzzled look on her face told me that she clearly thought I was crazy but I could deal with that.
"Not that I know of. Just, what's the term? Little rough around the edges." I stared at her. "What's your excuse?"
"I'm consistent but you, mister, are the common denominator in my moods."
I stepped on the boat and said, "Is that so? Sit down here and tell me how?"
My finger was pointing between my legs.
She shook her head and said, "So ridiculous."
We made it back without her hitting me or before I had to toss her ass in the water. On the way back to our cabanas, she walked ahead of me so I watched her hips sway back and forth in her shorts.
"Mr. Salvatore," Antonio Aragon called. "Nice to see you again."
The man was interrupting, dammit.
"Hello," I called back. Bianca briefly turned and acted as if she was going to wait for me, then she kept walking.
"How's your stay so far?" he asked with his eyes on mine, patiently waiting for an answer.
"This place is top notch. Awesome investment and the accommodations are to my liking," I informed him.
"That's good to hear. I know you're here for the entire two weeks, so please let one of my staff members know if you need anything at all." He nodded and leisurely walked away.
He was rich, handsome, smart, and he knew it. Those facts exuded from his core just like they used to from mine. Now, I lacked one of those and my brash manners took its place. I knew, like everyone else did, that it was a defense mechanism but it helped the wound. It'd never be healed but my bad disposition was simply a band-aid which would cover it so I couldn't see it ever present before my mind. I could focus on others issues and not my own.
It was only two o'clock when I arrived back to the cabana but oddly enough I was bored. Checking the itinerary, I saw that there were a few events happening but I wasn't interested in those. My mind wouldn't think about anything else besides Bianca. Which was funny because up until yesterday, my focus was on the fantasy of getting back to my former self. How I was before. How life was before this fucking scar.
Plastic surgeons had done their best but due to the delicate nature of my eye and the way my skin healed, this was the best they could do. I had even received third and fourth opinions about it, but even the best of the best did not want to operate.
Venturing into the tropical area of the island was by accident but I needed to clear my mind. The deeper I walked, the closer I felt like I was making some headway.
"Mr. Salvatore," Kenderly greeted me. "How's your walk?"
"So far, so good." I stopped as she assessed me with her unique eyes.
She was a rare beauty with long silver hair, exotic features and a gaze that saw way more than anyone probably wanted to share. There was no doubt she was a major asset in this fantasy organization.
"Good. You do know what you seek isn't at the end of this island." Her smile brought warmth to my cold heart. "It's not at home either. It's here but you know that, right?"
Yes, way more than I even wanted to acknowledge.
"Could you be more specific?" I asked.
"Why? You know what I mean." Her smile widened. "You're smart, rich, handsome and arrogant. These qualities have worked well for you before, so why not now?"
"I'm not handsome," I countered as I moved my hair out of the way so she could see the God-awful scar.
"I guess you're not as smart as I thought." She laughed. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. A scar has never determined someone's worth. Just like the presence or absence of someone will not determine their worth. You determine that. You always have, Tavvy."
Holy shit.
My grandmother used to call me that name. There was no way she should know that. I blinked and by the time I went to answer her, she was nearly gone from my vision. She couldn't have moved that fast in such a small amount of what was just several seconds.
Cora and William Salvatore raised me when my mother and father died in a freak accident at their job. They worked together in an auto factory; both working on the line. One of the cranes fell and killed six people including my parents. The auto factory was at fault, so they paid handsomely to the families of the victims. When I turned eighteen, I inherited a lot of money and invested it wisely.
