by Vicky Loebel
“I don’t know if I mind. I mean, it’s OK about the money. We’ll work that out. And I know I offered to live on the moon.” Ellie met his gaze. “Is this—I mean, no offense, but construction starts on your birthday, right? Won’t you be walking out on another unfinished project?”
“Actually, no. My job was to set up CasParDev and secure the land, casino license, and permits, and to line up the construction plans. After that it all gets handed to the builder. If I was still an investor, I might be involved. But assuming my father takes over everything, I’m done.”
“Oh.”
“There’s another reason for Vegas. I want to reenroll at the university and finish my architecture degree.”
“Oh, Ryan.” Her face softened with pride.
“I thought….” He plunged ahead. “That is, after your transcripts are released, you can take classes, too. I have lots of contacts in architectural firms. Once we graduate, we could work together in ecological design.”
“That sounds amazing.” She looked stunned. “I mean, yes, definitely for you. For me, we’ll need to take some time and think.” Ellie tipped her head. “Could we rent the hotel suite and use the money for an apartment?”
“Sure. Probably a small house even. With room for a dog. We’ll go out and explore the desert on weekends.”
“The place must have some natural charm.”
“Loads, actually. Coyotes, desert tortoises, bighorn sheep.” He watched the idea grow on his wife. “Lake Powell, the Sierra Nevadas, the Grand Canyon, all a few hours away. Drive a bit farther and we’re in Navajo country. We’ll visit Joshua trees and saguaros.”
“I’m pretty sure those two don’t grow together.”
“We’ll find a map and hunt them down.” Ryan’s imagination fired. “Two dogs…two big yellow labs…to keep each other company while we study. We’ll get a truck with a camper top and buy a double sleeping bag—”
Ellie’s finger covered his lips. “What if you’re not disinherited? What if two weeks from now you’ve got plenty of money and never need to work?”
He hadn’t considered that. “Well….” Ryan stopped short of making wild promises. “Well, I guess we’d have more options. More breathing space to plan.” He added two extra dogs to their imaginary future. “But I still want to finish my degree.”
“Bekka sent me a website when we were flying here. BillionaireStalker.com. It has the names and photographs of all the women you’ve slept with.”
“Oh.” Ryan’s romantic fantasy blurred and disappeared. He sighed. “It’s a pretty long list.”
“They’re all beautiful. Really gorgeous. Better looking, better educated, richer, taller, smarter than me.” She frowned. “So what happened? Why didn’t you marry them?”
“They wouldn’t fit in a two-bedroom house in Las Vegas?”
She shook her head. “I’m serious. Why me?”
Ryan was serious, too. “I don’t know.” He shrugged helplessly. “None of them wanted me. We were just having fun. What about you? Did you want to marry Juan Esteban?” If she said yes, he was going to march straight back and punch the man.
“Never.” Ellie shuddered. “Not even—that is before I knew he was sleeping around.”
“I never thought anyone could love me.” He touched her chin. “Maybe they couldn’t, because I never loved anyone else. But I love you, Ellie Andersen.” He kissed her forehead. “I love your green eyes, and goofy hair, and good heart. I love the way you’re shorter than me, even in heels.”
She stuck her tongue out.
“I love the squeaks that spill from the corners of your mouth when I kiss you.”
“They don’t.”
He ran his fingertips down her neck over her arms. “I love that you understand things and make them better. I love your kindness and the way you scratch our dogs under their chins.”
“Now you’re being silly.”
“They’re not ours, yet, but I know exactly how you’ll scratch them. I love the way you’ve stuck by me through all this craziness, even knowing I was being an idiot, despite how much you hated the casino.” He crossed his fingers and whispered a silent prayer. “I love—” Ryan pulled Ellie close and murmured details.
Her eyelids drifted half-shut. He felt her breasts lifting against him.
Ryan pulled her onto his lap. “I love you.”
“Wow.” Ellie straddled him, clasping his neck in her hands. “Wow. You are sexy when you tell me nice things.” She skimmed her thumbs along his jaw.
“You’re sexy every damn minute of the day.” They kissed. And then he kissed her harder, deeper, provoking the squeaks he loved. Ryan took Ellie’s top away and spent a long time exploring her with his mouth. “How about this?” He pinned her arms and sucked a squeaky spot. “Sexy?”
She squirmed under his tongue.
Ryan tipped his wife onto the bench. A tangled moment later, they were out of their clothes. He glanced out at the jungle. “How long does this keep up?”
“The rain?” She licked lips, lush and swollen from kissing. “At least two hours.”
Ryan lowered his body onto hers. “Sounds just about right.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“If I live to be a hundred,” Ellie said, holding out her arms, embracing the sun and choppy waves on the approach to St. John, “I’ll never get tired of this air.” A gust of wind shivered the motorboat, sending salt spray over the bow.
Ferryman Pete, operating a water taxi in order to carry VIPs to the casino groundbreaking ceremony, laughed at Ellie’s dripping face. “You better hold onto that railing or you’ll be swimmin’ to shore.”
“I’m so happy, I don’t mind if I do.” Today was Ryan’s birthday. The day they were breaking ground on the casino. The day Carl Andersen would finally lose his stranglehold—one way or another—on his son, and the day Ellie would get her husband back after two long weeks apart.
Pete motored up to the new CasParDev dock while Ellie took in the scene. The beach was crisp and white, like it had always been, the sloping hillside covered with rain-dense autumn foliage and trees. The old poisonous manchineel tree was still where she’d left it, now surrounded by a mesh fence and prominent warning sign.
Everything else had changed. The area where Gran’s cottage used to stand was bulldozed flat and covered in gravel, with broad concrete steps leading to the dock. At the rear of the clearing, an enormous semi-truck mounted TV was playing promotional videos for CasParDev. In front of that was a low stage where VIP speakers were taking their seats. Several hundred visitors—reporters, politicians, people Ellie knew from the islands—were milling, munching, drifting toward folding chairs facing the stage. Weaving in and out among guests, instantly recognizable in bright turquoise shirts, were Sam’s caterers, setting out sandwiches, muffins, and bite-sized cakes on covered tables between large urns of coffee and ice water.
At least they’re not using balloons. Ellie had mentioned once how bad the little colored scraps were for wildlife, and she was proud to see her husband remembered. Instead, huge bunches of biodegradable flowers adorned the tables and stage.
“So, what do you think?” Pete grabbed a line as the water taxi touched the dock. “Lots of change comin’ to our little island.”
“That’s for sure.” Ellie tried not to mind. The six-story version of Casino Paradise was…acceptable. She opened her wallet, still not used to finding money inside, and paid Pete’s fare including a generous tip. “Are you worried about the casino?”
“Me?” Pete shook his head. “I have a boy and girl getting big. Maybe this way they’ll find jobs instead of moving off, leaving their old man alone.”
“I hope so.” She hugged goodbye and hurried up the steps, looking for Ryan. They’d been apart since that second day in Costa Rica, Ryan returning to work with CasParDev while Ellie stayed to help relaunch the camp and to see Juan Esteban and Sofía safely married. Gran and Frank had hosted a lovely wedding breakfast for the couple, and Elli
e had been pleased to see how genuinely affectionate the bride and groom had seemed together. Perhaps, now that the stress of lies and debt were gone, they’d have a happy marriage.
So that’s it. That part of her life was truly over. Today marked the first phase of construction on Casino Paradise, and by January she and Ryan would be starving graduate students in Las Vegas. Ellie pushed her way through the crowd to the stage and spotted her husband locked in conversation with the governor of the U.S. Virgin Islands. His eyes met hers. His face split in a tremendous grin and—ignoring the amused smiles of the men around him—he hurried to Ellie.
Their first hug was bliss. She’d almost forgotten how much she needed him. After a second hug that ended too soon, Ryan stepped back and gazed with heartwarming adoration. “Wow. You look stunning.”
Doris had warned her to wear clothes suitable for photographs. She’d chosen a flattering watercolor shirt dress that could stand up to wind and rain.
“You look pretty good, too.” His gray suit was sober without being dull. “Happy birthday.” She kissed him lightly. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“Me, too.” He clasped her hand and started to walk past the stage. “No more separations. Or at least, we’ll have to get you a cell phone. We need a minute to talk—”
“Excuse me, Ryan.” A man holding a portable recorder blocked their way. “Is it true you’re going to replace the coral reef in Paradise Bay with boat moorings?”
“Nope,” Ryan said. “The reef’s priceless. CasParDev wouldn’t dream of harming a hair on its head.”
A woman leading a TV crew joined them. “How about lawsuits? We’ve heard there’s bad blood between you and the Paradise Resort.”
“Only when I beat my cousin Chris at Volleyball. But don’t worry.” He aimed a bolt of pure charisma at the camera. “Until construction’s done, I plan to let him win.”
Two gambling commissioners pushed their way into the camera frame and started jabbering. On stage, the head of the chamber of commerce picked up a microphone and launched into his opening speech. Ryan glanced at Ellie. “Um….”
“Go on. We’ll catch up later.”
He leaned close and put his mouth to her ear. “Trust me.” Warm lips brushed her cheek and then the flood of activity carried him away.
“Get used to that.” Bekka clucked in mock sympathy behind Ellie. “Ryan never stays long with any girl.”
“I guess it’s a good thing he married a woman.” She turned and swallowed a gulp of poisonous envy. Instead of sensible clothes, Bekka was wearing yellow silk, cinched at the waist, with matching clutch and stiletto pumps. Ryan’s mom’s ring was still on her finger, matched now by a necklace of enormous emeralds. She looked more like a model stepping out of a photo shoot in Paris than an investor breaking ground on a small local casino.
“Um.” Ellie’s dress felt like a maid’s uniform in comparison. “You look nice.”
“Oh, this old thing. Not my choice. It’s just, Carl’s so sophisticated. He insists I dress well.” Bekka sighed. “You’re lucky Ryan’s not picky.”
“I am lucky.” Ellie gritted her teeth. “Ryan’s great.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” Bekka hooked Ellie’s arm through hers and pinned it with manicured claws. “There’s something you need to see.” She set off in the direction of the TV truck.
“All right, all right.” Ellie smiled at onlookers and half-walked, half-skipped alongside Bekka, amazed by how fast the woman traveled in heels. Behind the truck was a supply table stacked with slim white binders—presumably marketing material for Casino Paradise to be sent home with guests after the presentation.
Bekka picked up a binder and shoved it at Ellie. “Get an eyeful of this!”
Ellie glanced down, and then she looked again, frowning. Instead of the six-story building she and Ryan had agreed upon, there was a full color, towering monstrosity pictured on front. How? What? She snatched the binder from Bekka.
Eco friendly, the first page proclaimed. Eighteen stories…new jobs….
Eighteen! Ellie’s vision blurred. “Eighteen.” She turned, stricken, to Bekka. “What’s this about?”
“We heard about your plan to wreck the casino. Carl and I called an investors’ vote.”
“I thought Ryan owned fifty-one percent.”
“He did. He does. Until midnight tonight when Carl gets his money. We pointed out that afterwards he’d be not only broke but discredited. That no building project would ever touch him again. Of course, Ryan saw sense.”
Ellie shook her head. “I don’t believe you.” He’d have said something, wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t ambush her with the change?
“Cross my heart and hope to die.” Bekka piled an identical binder in Ellie’s arms, and then a third and fourth, all the same. “Henrik tried to broker a compromise. He had us agreeing to ten stories at one point.” The binders stacked up to Ellie’s chin. “Then Ryan heard he’d be eligible for a Caribbean design award if we went with eighteen and that was that.” Bekka flashed perfect teeth. “He said he’d talk you into it, that you were so grateful to have a man in your life, you’d do whatever he asked.”
“He never said that.” Ellie dropped the binders, forcing Bekka to hop clear.
“Perhaps not exactly.” She flashed her teeth again. “What he said was that you’re too nice to make a fuss, and he’d take care of damage control later.”
Trust me, Ryan had told her less than five minutes ago. Trust me.
Which meant he knew he’d done something Ellie would hate.
Don’t be stupid. She curled her hands into fists. Bekka’s deliberately making trouble. But there was no denying the stacks of binders on the table. Ryan is building an eighteen-story casino and didn’t tell me. Because Ellie was too nice to fuss.
“Are you that nice?” Bekka asked sweetly. “Because I can give you something to stop it.”
Ellie’s head hurt. “Why?”
“Never mind why.” Bekka reached under the table and unlocked a slender briefcase. Inside was another white binder, this one without the picture on front. “Take a look.”
Ellie opened the binder and frowned. It was what she’d been searching for that first day in Ryan’s hotel room. The gambling commission report. Except this version had all of its pages. Ellie flipped past the part she’d already seen, and there in stark black and white was a list of bribes paid to the commissioners. Not only trips to Vegas—a boat, a condo on St. Croix, transfers to bank accounts. And there were payments to politicians as well. The governor, the site inspectors, the head of the national park, for heaven’s sake. Enough to cause a huge scandal. Enough to send a lot of people to jail.
She took a breath. “Why are you showing me this?”
“I’m a concerned citizen. It’s my duty.”
“You’re an investor. You’ll be arrested.”
“Not me. Carl and I are completely innocent. Ryan and Henrik are guilty, but let’s face it—they’ll beat the rap. Meanwhile the casino’s scuttled. Your island’s safe. I lose a couple of million, but it’s worth it for revenge.”
“All this to punish Ryan for marrying me?” There had to be more. All of a sudden, Ellie knew what it was. “You’re trying to make sure his dad won’t release Ryan’s fortune.”
“Guilty. So much better that all the money should come to me—once I’m Mrs. Carl Andersen—don’t you think? But my motive doesn’t matter. This is your chance to save St. John.”
Her chance to save St. John and hurt Ryan. Her chance to stick to principles and ruin someone she loved. Trust me. She’d never imagined how soon she’d be put to the test.
“Go away,” Ellie told Bekka. “I need to read this again.”
“No problem.” Bekka patted her shoulder. “I know you’ll do the right thing.”
Ellie examined the list of gifts and bribes. If she’d found this when she’d searched Ryan’s hotel room, she’d have bought it hook, line, and sinker. She’d have run screaming to the co
ps. But now? Ryan was careless, but he wasn’t a criminal. And Henrik? She couldn’t imagine that proper gentleman offering anyone a bribe. And if he did, Ellie realized slowly, the man would not include a typed list of bribes in a report. And even if he included a typed list—Ellie read the report again, more and more certain it was fake—she’d bet her right hand Henrik’s list of bribes would not contain typos.
Bekka had done this. She must have pulled the original report from Ryan’s binder weeks ago and created a phony version in case she needed to whip up some blackmail. Then, when she decided to marry Carl and ruin Ryan….
The rising tide of righteous indignation faded from Ellie’s heart. Ryan was building an eighteen-story casino. It was too much to hope all these hundreds of binders were forgeries. How could he? Had he decided his family money meant more to him than Ellie? Was he heartless enough to spring this on her in front of everyone?
Trust me.
Ellie didn’t know what to think. All she knew was that she’d promised to trust her husband. She closed the binder, shaking her head. I trust Ryan. As for the rest, time would tell.
She walked around the truck and found her reserved place between Doris and Henrik, handing the binder to Ryan’s uncle with a murmured, “I think you’ll find this interesting.”
Henrik lifted an eyebrow and slid the binder under his chair. On stage, one minor celebrity after another sang the Casino’s praises. Ellie took anxious breaths and tried to tune them out. Trust Ryan. Nobody ever said it would be easy.
At last Ryan himself picked up the microphone, smiling, thanking the speakers one by one.
“As some of you may have heard,” he told the crowd, “we’re building a casino.” He stopped for applause. “When CasParDev started this project, we wanted something special. Something worthy of this magnificent setting in Paradise Bay.”
