by Whitley Cox
My head whipped around, and I gaped at Tate. What the hell was he talking about?
Xavier’s mouth mimicked my own. “Fuck you,” he said with a snarl.
Tate just smiled. “See, one of the many advantages to being a billionaire is the resources you’re able to afford. It took my team no time at all to realize you are fucking bankrupt. Like the ponies, eh?” Tate clucked his tongue disapprovingly.
Shit.
I’d thought Xavier had stopped going to the track, at least that’s what he’d told me last time I’d asked him. He’d had a bit of a problem before we’d met, but when his ex-wife threatened to sue him for full custody of their son, he’d stopped. Apparently, though, even having his kid in his life wasn’t enough to quit the addiction or thrill.
Tate crossed his arms in front of his chest. "You thought selling your story to America’s Scoop was going to be your big score, get you back into the black. Well . . . I just bought America’s Scoop. Have already issued a story to recant yours, painting you as an idiot, desperate to reclaim his fame, blah, blah, blah. You can read the whole article tomorrow on your flight home. Secondly, I’ve threatened to sue any other tabloid that publishes your story or any photos surrounding either Parker, my staff, my resort or myself. They’re all aware and have agreed to back off and not print your story. You won’t be getting a dime.”
Blood flooded Xavier’s face. “You can’t do that!” he spat.
Tate made a bored face. “I can do whatever the fuck I want, and don’t you forget that. Thirdly, this here is a cease-and-desist order for you. If you remember, when you ‘checked in’ to The Windward Hibiscus, you signed a bunch of non-disclosure agreements. Do you remember that?” He waited a half-second for Xavier to respond, but the man just stood there like a slaw-jawed guppy. Tate went on. “I didn’t think so. See, you’re not the first prick I’ve had to deal with, so I’ve covered my ass quite well. I can afford the best attorneys, and they’ve written up a pretty wicked iron-clad non-disclosure agreement into the forms you sign when you first arrive. Most people don’t even bother to read them, like you. But they say very clearly that if anyone shows my picture or prints anything about me without my permission, they will be sued.”
Michael stepped forward and thrust a manila envelope into Xavier’s hand. “You’ve been served.”
Xavier started to shake.
“Furthermore,” Tate went on, “I’m in the process of procuring your family’s soap business as well. Your brother seems like a reasonable enough man, and I’m sure he’ll convince the board members to sell to me, with the caveat you receive none of the buyout.” Did Tate know Rufus had sold off all of Xavier’s shares years ago? Was he bluffing? Or did he know something I didn’t?
Xavier’s knees wobbled as the realization of his actions and everything he was losing finally started to sink in.
Tate smiled. “Now, this can all go away if you sign the top form inside that envelope there. I won’t buy your family’s company, I won’t sue you, and I won’t have Mako here take you out on a boat and feed you to the sharks.”
Xavier took a step to the left and rested his hand on the desk to support his weight. The man looked like he was going to pass out.
“The form on top there.” Tate waited for Xavier to open the envelope and pull out the paper. “It’s you admitting to spreading falsehoods and rumors about myself, The Windward Hibiscus and Miss Ryan. It states that you accept full responsibility for your libel and any and all repercussions that may be the fallout of the mess you’ve created. There is a gag order, however, and you are not allowed to speak of any of this. All you are allowed to speak of is the fact that you lied.”
Michael stepped forward again and poked a bony finger into the center of the paper. “This here tells you exactly what to say.”
“I’m a liar. I have never met Mr. McAllister, I do not know what he looks like, and I have never even been to The Windward Hibiscus. In a desperate attempt to make money, after making one too many poor business decisions, I took the opportunity of my ex-girlfriend being at the resort to spread rumors and make accusations. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.” Xavier’s Adam’s apple struggled to make it down his throat as he swallowed.
“Deviate so much as one word from this script, and we will come after you,” Michael said, claws out. For a tiny bespectacled man who weighed as much as one of Mako’s legs, his voice held the venom and strength of a man ten times his size. No doubt this wasn’t the first jugular he’d gone after and successfully drained.
“You will be leaving tomorrow morning at five,” Tate said. “Mako here will escort you. And if we so much as hear a whisper of your time on Moorea, or my name or Parker’s name in a tabloid, we won’t even bother with suing you. Do I make myself clear?”
Xavier nodded slowly, his eyes scanning the paper.
Michael stepped forward and handed him a pen. Xavier put the paper down and started to sign and initial where Michael instructed. I lifted my head and just stared at Tate. I had never been more turned on or afraid at the same time. Would he really “dispose” of Xavier?
Michael pulled the paper away and stuffed it back into the envelope. Then he snatched his pen from Xavier’s sweaty palm and, with a glare at my frightened ex, tucked the ballpoint back into his breast pocket.
Tate let out a heavy sigh. “All right then, now that that’s been settled,” and then out of nowhere he hauled off and punched Xavier in the nose, causing the man to stumble back and fall flat on his ass. The towel came loose, and he was suddenly laying there in a heap on the ground, his penis having turtled in fear and barely visible while blood poured from his nose and his beady eyes darted around the room in horror. “And that’s for calling Parker a gold-digger.” Tate grabbed me by the elbow and motioned for us to leave.
“You really should read what you sign,” Michael lectured Xavier as we left the bungalow. “You can’t even sue him for assault. You signed that right away, too.” The little attorney clucked his tongue as Tate had earlier. “Moron.” Then he closed the door, and he and Mako followed us back down the path toward the Jeep.
“You’re shaking again,” Tate said, stopping us on the path and removing his shirt for the second time. He pulled it over my head and tugged me close. “It’s okay, Parker. It’s over.”
A half-sob, half-chuckle caught in my throat as I leaned into him, letting the warmth of his big body wash over me. “Would you really have him killed?” I finally asked.
Mako chuckled behind me.
Tate and Michael joined in on the laughter.
I looked back at the two men behind me, then back up at Tate. “What?”
We all stopped on the path, and Tate took my hand. “I’ve never had anyone killed or killed anyone, Parker. The implied threat seems to be enough, combined with Mako.”
The big Polynesian man grinned, showing off a gorgeous row of straight, bright white teeth. “Something about the tattoos on the face seems to scare ’em straight,” he laughed.
“And Michael’s ruthlessness, too,” Tate replied, continuing to laugh. “Nothing has ever gone further than a threat. Come to think of it, I’m not sure what we’d do if someone ignored our threat.”
“Shark food,” Mako said, sobering.
Tate just chuckled. “Remind me not to piss you off.”
I gazed up into Tate’s face. “You honestly think we’re done with him?”
He nodded and pulled me close, and we resumed our walking. “We’re done with him. The man doesn’t have a pot to piss in. By the time he gets back to New York, he won’t have a friend left to turn to, and unless his brother takes pity on him, no job, either. In the last three weeks, he’s been foreclosed on, gone into receivership, had to declare bankruptcy and closed all his restaurants and clubs. The man has ruined himself. We’re just making sure he doesn’t ruin us as well.”
I shook my head and snuggled into him. I had had no idea any of this was going on. None. Then again, we’d been broken up for three
weeks, and Xavier never really discussed his businesses with me. Even when I’d ask, he’d dismiss my questions or change the subject. I was quite relieved that I wasn’t having to go through this with him right now. He’d dumped me just in the nick of time.
Tate opened up the Jeep door for me, and I climbed in.
Four doors slammed, and seconds later we were on the road heading back to The Windward Hibiscus, the wind in our hair as the pinkish-purple sky drew us toward the horizon. Crisis averted.
“I think that went rather well.” Michael sounded chipper, bouncing in his seat next to Mako.
Tate brought his hand up and checked his knuckles. They were red and swollen. One had busted open, and a thin trickle of blood ran down his middle finger.
I took his fist in my palm and wiped the blood away with my finger, then brought his hand to my lips, planting a soft, gracious kiss on his skin.
“I couldn’t let him get away with calling you a gold-digger,” he said softly.
I looked up into his eyes, and the rush of love I had for this incredible man inundated me. My chest tightened. But I had to be realistic. As much as I felt for him, this was day nine of a ten-day thing. We’d agreed to it. Letting the lump in my throat settle and shrink, I smiled shyly and ran my hand over his bloody one. “I hope you broke his nose.” I giggled to hide my true feelings and instead just cuddled back into his side. He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me into him.
Kissing the top of my head, he looked out into the trees whizzing past. “Me too.”
Chapter Twelve
When we returned to the resort, we stopped in briefly to see Justin and Kendra. Kendra was busy putting the girls to bed, and Justin was sitting outside on his phone.
We waited until he signed off, then approached.
“That was James,” he said. “He’s sending Heath to go and collect Xavier from the airport in New York.”
Tate nodded. “Good idea. Just drive the threat home a little longer. Make him think that he’s being watched back home too.”
Justin grinned. “He doesn’t need to know Heath is from Canada or just going to hang out for a couple days and follow him. We just need to scare the shit out of him. Keep him thinking he’s being followed.”
“Exactly,” Tate said with a tired smile. “Thanks for doing that.”
“Of course.” Justin tipped his beer back. I was in slight awe of how nonchalant both men were behaving, as if we hadn’t just gone and threatened Xavier’s life if he so much as breathed a word about anything that had happened in the last two days. But then again, maybe this was just the way it went with high-powered men. I’d thought Xavier had been powerful and with influence; I couldn’t have been more wrong. At least not compared with the two men in front of me.
Justin’s eyes fell to Tate’s injured hand. “You slam your hand in the door of the Jeep or something?”
Tate just grinned and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “Or something.”
A second later, Kendra emerged like an angel through the sheer gauzy drapes, shutting the French doors with the kind of silent care and attention only a mother of slumbering babes could do.
“Everything okay?” she asked with a big yawn, walking up beside her husband. He reached for her and brought her down onto his lap.
“Just peachy,” Tate replied. “But if you don’t mind, guys, we have somewhere to be. We’ll come find you tomorrow morning so Parker can say goodbye, k?”
They both nodded, already seeming to be off in their own married person world. They were eyeing up the hammock, but I couldn’t tell if it was because they wanted to go have sex on it or fall asleep.
Tate and I headed off down the beach hand-in-hand. It was getting dark, and the beach was clearing out for the night. Not too many people speckled the lily-white sand past dinnertime. They were all just as tired from the sun as we were and heading inside to answer the call of their growling bellies.
“I can’t believe you leave tomorrow,” Tate said quietly, his hand linked so tightly with mine I was feeling a cramp make its way up my wrist toward my elbow.
I let out a lengthy sigh, determined not to let the loss I was feeling in my heart come through in my tone. “I know. The days just flew by.”
“They certainly did.”
We rounded a corner, and the flicker and dance of candles low in the sand drew my eyes, playing tricks and making my brain wonder if they were indeed candles or small pixies or fireflies dancing among the shells. When we approached, I realized it was a picnic. A blanket was spread out over the soft sand, and candles aplenty lined the spot, while a basket perched in the middle and a bucket of ice with a bottle of chilled champagne sat next to it.
“Tate . . .” was all I could say as he flicked his wrist and spun me into his arms, my chest smashing hard against his.
“I wanted to say ‘goodbye’ properly,” he said softly, his lips brushing across mine.
I swallowed. “Well . . . this is certainly a good start.”
Releasing me, he motioned for us to sit down. “That’s right, this is just the beginning. When we get back to the villa, I’m going to fuck you silly, woman.”
I grinned at him. “I can’t wait!”
He deployed the cork on the champagne like a pro and poured us each a flute, and as I sat there taking in my surroundings, I couldn’t stop the lone tear that trickled down my cheek. I was in paradise with a gorgeous billionaire, and I was happier than I’d ever been in my life. And that was all going to end tomorrow. By this time tomorrow, I’d be on a plane headed back to New York, back to my apartment, back to my job, back to . . . no one.
There was but a sliver left of orange on the horizon as the sun slipped off onto the other side of the world, leaving us bathed in the glow of stars above and a crescent moon hanging high and fierce in the cloudless sky, like a bright yellow sickle. I never wanted this day, this night, this moment to end.
“Here you go,” Tate said. He laid out the bounty of the picnic basket on the blanket.
I hastily wiped away another vexatious tear before I turned to face him, plastering on a huge grin and bringing my hand up to take a cracker from him. It appeared to be laden with caviar.
“Uh-uh, I’ll do it,” he tutted, playfully swatting my hand away and encouraging me to part my lips. I did so, and he gently placed the cracker on my tongue. I took a bite, fumbling with my hands to catch a few rogue crumbs, but the flavors that overwhelmed my palate had me swooning where I sat. Salty and savory and fishy and oh, so wonderful. I’d eaten my fair share of caviar with Xavier, but nothing as rich or spectacular as this.
“Do you like it?” he asked, his eyes hopeful.
“It’s absolutely wonderful.”
“More?”
“Please.”
He proceeded to feed me my entire meal. More caviar on crackers, pieces of mango with salty chili flakes, grilled pineapple, savory prosciutto wrapped around perfectly ripe and juicy melon, and papaya. It was all to die for, and I ate every bite.
I tried to allow him to let me feed him in return, but he wouldn’t hear of it. “I want to spoil you, Parker. Savor you. Worship you. Don’t say ‘no’ to me tonight, please?”
My bottom lip damn near hit the sand as his words wrapped around my heart and squeezed. When we’d finally finished, both of us full and content and just a touch lightheaded from the champagne, I thought for sure we’d head back up to the villa, but Tate had other things in mind.
“The beach is empty. Let’s go skinny-dipping.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, my head swiveling side to side to check each direction of the beach. He was right, the beach was empty. It was night now, and nothing but a few hungry sand crabs skittering across the ground seemed to be our companions.
“Don’t say ‘no’ to me tonight.”
He removed his shirt, his smile widening when he heard my gasp. It’d been over a week now, and still the sight of this man shirtless made me lose my ever-loving mind. I wanted to lick e
ach and every one of those abs, then his pecs, and then his biceps, finishing off with that luscious line that ran around his hip and beneath his shorts. That line, I wanted to lick all the way down.
He ditched his shorts, and within seconds his beauty stood before me, his hand outstretched, waiting for mine so he could help me to my feet. I gave in. I always gave in. For Tate, I always would. I would yield to Tate every day for the rest of my life. Let him order my meals for me, bring me breakfast, take me on adventures. The man had managed to make me want to start over, love life and love myself, and all in just ten short days. I’d do anything for him, if he’d let me.
I went to peel off my tank top, but Tate stopped me, his eyes fierce in the candlelight. “Let me. I want to undress you.”
My throat bobbed, and I nodded. A breathy “Okay” floated past my lips as I let my arms hang by my sides, my eyes taking in the exquisite man before me.
Slowly, ever so slowly, almost painfully, he lifted the hem of my tank top. The fabric, although only cotton, felt like a soft brush of silk against my sun-heated skin as he languidly brought it up and over my head, tossing it to the blanket. My shorts were next. His fingers were precise and sure as he unsnapped the button, lightly grazing my hips until a moan built dark and deep at the back of my throat. He pulled them down over my thighs, and I stepped out. Last was my bathing suit. A pull here, a tug there, and the scraps of Lycra drifted down to join the rest of my clothes.
He reached for me again, and I took his hand. We turned to face the darkness of the water, the sea reflecting the sky with its multitude of stars, while the moon lay long and bright, rippling slightly in the calm waves. We stopped for a second and just admired where we were. The wide open ocean in front of us. Paradise. Then hand-in-hand, naked as jaybirds, and me hopelessly in love and trying my damnedest not to think about having to say “goodbye,” we walked into the water.
“I hope there are towels in that picnic basket,” I said with a laugh as we trudged out of the surf and ran the dozen or so steps up the sand to our waiting blanket. The majority of the candles had burned down or been snuffed out by the warm evening breeze, so the only real light we had was the moon overhead, and the justice it was doing to Tate’s body was the kind of image dreams were made of.
