Caribbean Escape with the Tycoon

by Rosanna Battigelli

  Passing the closed doors of the bedrooms where he said Mariah, Adrien and his mother were resting, Chanelle followed Vance through a long hallway to a central foyer with an antique drop-lid desk, built-in bookshelves and two recliners. When he gestured to Chanelle to sit down, she complied, her pulse quickening.

  Okay, here it comes, she thought, trying not to look as cynical as she felt. The excuse for kissing me like the ship was about to go down, then leaving me in the lurch to take up with a Zodiac employee.

  She bit her lip. Despite the rather personal exchange between them a few minutes ago, the fact remained that he had some explaining to do.

  Why was he staring at her like that? He wasn’t waiting for her to begin, was he? Because if that was the case, she had plenty she could say to him, starting with—

  “Chanelle, before I get into what I really want to say, I have to thank you...”

  Chanelle couldn’t help making a sound that came out as a half laugh, half cough. “You’re kidding me. For what, exactly? For providing you with some onboard entertainment?” She tossed her hair back and stared at him pointedly.

  She was satisfied to see his eyebrows furrow and a hurt expression cross his features.

  “Ouch,” he said softly. “Chanelle, you’ve got it wrong. And I promised to explain—”

  “I think I can figure it out,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “As I might have mentioned before, your reputation precedes you. Leopards can’t change their spots.”

  Vance clutched at his chest. “That’s another arrow to the heart, Sagittarius. Didn’t you see the sign on the tender? No archery allowed...”

  “This is not a joking matter,” Chanelle said curtly. She shook her head and stood up, heat sizzling through her veins. She strode to the French doors and stared out. The sun had disappeared, and the swiftly moving clouds were darkening. Just like her mood. She was already upset at him, but now she was upset with herself.

  Vance sprang up from the recliner and strode over to stand beside her. “Look, Chanelle, please let me explain, okay?”

  Chanelle turned to face him as a few drops of rain began to plop against the panes.

  “I wanted to thank you for giving me your take on the situation with my father. My perspective has changed,” he said huskily. “I gave up the playboy lifestyle after my father died.” His gaze shifted to the view. “I was too stubborn to promise my dad on his deathbed that I would carry on the business. And when he died, I was filled with guilt.” He gazed back at Chanelle. “I realized I had to let go of some things. First of all, years’ worth of resentment for a father who had spent more time at his job than with his kids. And second, life as a playboy.” His eyes pierced into hers. “This leopard has changed, Chanelle. No spots in the last nine months. And the woman you saw me with is our director of environmental operations. She came by to drop off a gift for me since she wouldn’t be at the gala.”

  Chanelle raised her eyebrows, remembering Vance’s unbuttoned shirt and the hug he and the woman had shared.

  “I was hugging her because she was leaving this morning to meet her fiancé in George Town,” he said, as if he had just read Chanelle’s thoughts. “They’re getting married at the end of the week and then going on their honeymoon.” He gave Chanelle a few moments to digest this information. “She’s not only a great employee, but she’s become a good friend. And in case you heard mention of a surprise in Toronto, I was referring to a surprise party from the staff to congratulate them on their wedding.”

  Chanelle pursed her lips. So if Vance had given up his playboy ways, why had he paid any attention to her? Kissed her so...so—

  Vance stepped closer to Chanelle. Her pulse rate had increased exponentially as Vance had proceeded with his explanations and now, with him standing so close that she could feel his breath on her forehead, she was overwhelmed by a feeling of light-headedness. She looked up at his firm jawline and curves of his mouth, and when her gaze met his, the intense look in his blue eyes startled her. She inhaled sharply as Vance leaned down to kiss her.

  She had wanted to ask him why he had left her stateroom so abruptly, what he had meant when he had said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to stay and have you regret it later...” but his kiss blocked her words. And now his lips were moving over hers with a gentle pressure that was sending a swirl of desire throughout her. When he suddenly clasped her and deepened his kiss, Chanelle felt her thoughts and unspoken words scatter.

  She wanted to believe him.

  And she wanted this fantasy to continue...

  Chanelle felt her sense of caution dissipating with the intoxicating pressure of his lips on hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and with the deliberateness and precision of a skilled Archer, she slid her fingers under his T-shirt to where the Aquarius waves were tattooed on his back. Pressing him closer, she returned his kiss with the passion that he had ignited, confident that her invisible arrow was hitting its mark.

  * * *

  Vance could feel his heart thumping erratically as Chanelle responded to his kiss, and when they finally broke apart, he realized the extra pounding was coming from the fat drops of rain pelting the French doors. A flash of lightning appeared, followed by a crackle of thunder that made Chanelle jump.

  Sudden rain showers were common enough in these parts, and he was sure that this one wouldn’t last long. He was disappointed, though. He had hoped to walk along the beach with Chanelle and show her around the island...

  He wrapped his arm tighter around her. Her face had paled and her green-hazel eyes were blinking. “My, what big eyes you have.” He smiled at her. “Don’t worry, Chanelle, the house won’t blow down. It’s a good thing we’re here, though, and not out on the water.”

  “I’m not worried... I guess. But I think you’re referencing two different fairy tales.”

  He laughed. “But there’s a wolf in both, right?”

  “Yes, and I’m hoping there are no wolves in sheep’s clothing around here.”

  Vance couldn’t resist leaning in to nibble Chanelle’s neck, his pulse spiking when she gave a little shiver. “And what would you do if you came across one?” he teased.

  “I’d distract him with custard-filled croissants,” she shot back with a grin. “I’m sure he’d find them much more tasty...”

  “I don’t know about that,” he murmured, leaning toward her again. Another clap of thunder reverberated around them, and Vance heard the alarmed voices of his mother and sister calling him from down the hall. His mother was probably worried that some windows were open and that the rain was pouring in. “I’d better check the windows,” he said, squeezing Chanelle’s hand.

  “You’re not leaving me here,” she said. “I’m coming with you, Vance. I don’t like big storms.” She looked up at the ceiling as if she were afraid that it would cave in from all the rain. “Shouldn’t we be hunkering down in the basement?”

  Vance couldn’t help chuckling. “You’re in the Caribbean, Chanelle, not Canada. We don’t have basements here.”

  They met his mother and Mariah in the hallway. Mariah rushed to him, grabbing his arm.

  “I can’t find Adrien,” she cried. “I peeked in on him earlier and he was napping, so I had a snooze, too. When I heard the storm, I went to get him, and he wasn’t there.” She started shaking, and Vance took hold of her arms.

  “Stay calm, Mariah. He must be in one of the rooms. You check the rest of the rooms on this floor, and we’ll start on the main floor.”

  She ran down the hall toward the central foyer and where Vance’s bedroom was located, calling Adrien’s name. Vance turned to his mother. Her face was pale as well, and he felt his heart, which was already drumming over Adrien, twinge. “Mom, you and Chanelle wait downstairs. Chanelle, maybe put on some herbal tea for my mom, okay? I’ll search for Adrien. He’s probably doing a puzzle in the family room.”

&
nbsp; He gave them both an encouraging smile and descended the stairs two at a time. He hadn’t wanted to show how worried he was, but as he filed through room after room with no sight of his nephew, a feeling of dread enveloped him.

  By the time he returned to the kitchen, Chanelle was pouring the tea, and Mariah was running into the room. She burst into tears when she saw that Adrien wasn’t with him.

  “He—must be outside,” she sobbed, trembling. “I’m going to go find him.”

  “No!” Vance said brusquely. “I’ll go.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHANELLE POURED CHAMOMILE TEA into a cup as steadily as she could, not wanting to show how distressed she was. A child was in danger. Someone she knew, and someone who was precious to Mariah and her family. To the man she was losing her heart to.

  “I’m going out to help Vance,” she told them and rushed out of the kitchen as Vance’s mother was formulating a protest.

  Chanelle couldn’t just sit there. She wasn’t programmed that way. She had been trained to act with lightning speed when alerted to a dangerous or volatile situation involving a child. And right now, the storm was a danger. An enormous danger, with the intermittent lightning, slashing rain and what seemed like gale-force winds. She forced her mind not to think about any number of frightening possibilities as to where Adrien might be.

  Chanelle was relieved to find another raincoat in the foyer armoire. It was oversized, but at least it would keep most of her protected. As she put it on, she decided that since Vance had gone out this way, he’d probably be checking the front of the villa and the covered boathouse. She would check the back.

  As soon as Chanelle stepped outside, the wind whipped the hood of her raincoat back, and she knew it would be hopeless to even try to put it back in place. She wished she had at least put her hair up in a ponytail, which would have prevented her from being blinded at every turn by stinging strands of her hair along with the lashing rain. It was just early afternoon, but the sky had darkened ominously, and in the heavy downpour, Chanelle could barely discern what was two feet in front of her. An icy fear gripped her.

  She prayed Adrien was safe...

  Her sandals were soaked, and since the raincoat just came down to below her knees, her legs were drenched as well. It was hard to keep her eyes open, and she had to concentrate on which direction she was going. At one point she slipped into a flower bed that the deluge had reduced to a muddy soup, and she let out a cry at the stab of pain as her knees crashed into a decorative stone slab.

  Her legs coated in mud, Chanelle regained her balance and continued toward the gazebo. She reached the pool area first, and her heart twisted at the thought that Adrien might have ventured into the pool.

  But surely he wouldn’t have dared without an adult with him...

  With the reduced visibility, Chanelle had to skirt around the perimeter of the pool, peering in for any sign of Adrien. He had been wearing a red T-shirt...

  Thank God, she murmured under her breath, seeing nothing. She plodded on toward the beach. She thought she heard a voice as the rain continued to pelt down, but the sound was quickly swallowed by the wind.

  Chanelle was thoroughly soaked through. The raincoat had not been able to prevent the rain from streaming down her neck and drenching her dress right through to her bikini. She pushed her hair away from her eyes as a streak of lightning lit up the sky and made the area around her seem like something out of a supernatural movie. At the next boom of thunder, she made a dash for the gazebo, her heart responding with its own boom.

  As she scanned the darkened interior, she spotted a hump in one corner of the gazebo. It looked red... She yelled out his name, and Adrien ran crying to her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

  * * *

  Vance ran as far as the boathouse, the blood pumping so hard in his veins that he was oblivious to everything but the sound of his own heartbeat. Who could have known that the weather would flip? And that Adrien would impulsively venture out of the villa?

  He was five years old. And a boy who loved to explore around the island...

  Vance backtracked and sprinted toward the shed near the rose garden. He glanced at the roses his mother had admired earlier, now flattened, with petals scattered all around the lawn.

  Would Adrien have gone to seek shelter in the shed if he had been playing in the nearby sandbox when the storm had hit? Vance faltered at a sudden muscle cramp in his leg and came to a stop. He swore under his breath and bent to massage his calf, wincing at the pain. When it eased, he continued toward the shed, walking as quickly as he could instead of running to avoid the risk of cramping up again.

  Vance called out Adrien’s name and looked inside the shed. Disappointment lumped in his throat. He prayed that Adrien might have made his way to the gazebo, the only other outside structure on that side of the property.

  As Vance passed in front of the villa, the front door opened, and his mother called out.

  Had she and Mariah found Adrien in some unsuspected place inside?

  He stopped, chest heaving, only to hear his mother say worriedly that Chanelle had gone out to look for Adrien as well, and she had seen her heading toward the back of the villa.

  The lump in Vance’s throat slid and landed in his gut like a boulder.

  In heaven’s name, why hadn’t Chanelle stayed put? Now he had two people to worry about. Two people he loved.

  Cramp or no cramp, Vance sprinted around to the back, yelling out Chanelle’s name. His hood had flown off long before, and he couldn’t be bothered to keep it over his head. He clenched his jaw as thunder rumbled around him, and he prayed that Chanelle and Adrien were nowhere near areas vulnerable to lightning strikes.

  He reached the pool and scanned the water that was agitated by thousands of needlelike raindrops. Now he knew what desperate felt like. With an ache in his heart that made him cry out, he made a run for the gazebo.

  Vance knew that he had only been outside for minutes, but somehow it felt like an ordeal of hours. He reached for the canvas flap, and seconds later, he wanted to collapse in relief as his eyes made out the huddled figures of Chanelle and Adrien in the corner near the hammock.

  Vance called out Chanelle’s name at the same time that she called out to him. He ran to her and Adrien and hugged them tightly. “Thank God you’re both safe,” he said hoarsely, not having the heart to scold either one of them.

  “I just got here,” Chanelle told him, her voice trembling. “I couldn’t just stay inside—”

  “We’ll talk later,” Vance said brusquely. “Let’s get out of here. Wait,” he stopped her as lightning illuminated the canvas panels. “Okay, Adrien, come with me,” he urged when the flashes stopped. “Chanelle, stay right beside us. We’ll go in the sunroom door.” He took off his raincoat and put it around Adrien before lifting him up and carrying him across the property and past the pool, looking over his shoulder at Chanelle every few paces.

  Vance set Adrien down once they were in the sunroom. He called out to Mariah, and in moments, she was running toward them, crying in relief.

  Adrien hadn’t said anything up to this point, his face frozen in shock, but when he saw his mother, he ran into her arms. “Mommy, Mommy. I was so scared.”

  “I know, baby. Mommy was scared, too.”

  Vance’s mother was close behind, and when she reached them, she hugged Adrien tightly, despite the fact that he was dripping wet, the raincoat dwarfing him. “Run a nice warm bath for him, Mariah, and I’ll get him some milk and cookies after I grab some towels for these drenched souls.”

  Mariah turned to hug Vance and then Chanelle, despite their dripping state. “I can’t thank you enough,” she said tremulously.

  “Chanelle found him in the gazebo,” Vance said, keeping his voice steady.

  “You’re an angel.” Mariah hugged her again. “A true guardian angel.”
She stepped back and then looked down with a frown. “Chanelle, you’re bleeding.”

  Vance turned to look. Below Chanelle’s raincoat, her legs were smeared with mud and trickles of blood. “I’ll take care of her, Mariah.”

  When they had gone, Vance helped Chanelle out of her raincoat. Her clothes were just as plastered as his, the only difference being that her knees and legs were bare and his weren’t. He frowned upon closer inspection of her scraped knees. He wrapped a towel around Chanelle and brushed the last towel quickly over his hair and body before flinging it onto a wicker chair.

  “You leave me no choice, Chanelle,” he said firmly, “but to play doctor with you.” And before Chanelle could respond, he lifted her up in his arms and made his way through the villa and up the alabaster stairway to his bedroom.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  AS CHANELLE FELT herself being whisked up by Vance’s strong arms, she had no choice but to clasp her arms around his neck, her heart thudding like a jackhammer. She closed her eyes as he proceeded up the stairway, anticipating a very uncomfortable landing should he lose his balance and fall...

  But he didn’t miss a step or even falter, as if carrying a woman up the stairs this way was something he was used to doing.

  Chanelle opened her eyes and let out her breath. They passed the center foyer where they had been sitting earlier, and after a few moments, Vance paused at a set of double doors and reached for the handle. Chanelle caught her breath at the sight of the four-poster king-size bed and the stunning Lawren Harris painting above, a winter landscape that didn’t seem at all out of place in this villa.

  Vance’s bedroom.

  He carried her to a roomy walk-in closet revealing a row of shirts and pants and shelves with at least a dozen pairs of footwear below. “I hope you see something you like in here,” he said, setting her down, and although she couldn’t see his face just then, she could tell he was smiling. “Because you’re going to have to get out of your wet clothes.”