[Invitation to Eden 24.0] How to Tempt a Tycoon

by Daire StDenis

  He rolls me to face him and he gazes deep into my eyes. “The woman was you, Tessa.”

  Even though I had a gut feeling about it, even though I felt myself connect with a part of myself, a part I don’t understand, I still get a weird tingling sensation, like someone playing with the hair on the top of my head.

  “How is that possible?” I ask.

  He smooths the hair from out of my eyes. “I don’t know. It’s this place. It defies physics and logic. Time is different here. I don’t know how to explain it. All I know is, it’s true.”

  “So you met a future version of me?”

  “Yes. You will become quite a master in the Tantric arts.”

  “You’ve got to be fucking with me.”

  “I am not fucking with you.” He smiles and caresses my hip. “Though I do enjoy fucking you.”

  “That was more than fucking. Much more.”

  “Yes. It was.”

  I consider what he’s saying. God! It makes no sense and yet...and yet it makes a weird sort of sense too. “So,” I start slowly, “my future self, taught you...so that you could teach me?”

  He smiles. “It would appear so.” He rubs the backs of his knuckles across my cheek. “I believe the reason is deeper, however.”

  “Deeper than that? I don’t know if my wee brain can handle anything deeper than the paradox of me teaching Tantra to the guy who would eventually teach me. That’s fucked up.”

  He chuckles. “You have no idea how hard it was to pretend I didn’t know you in Monte Carlo. There you were, the woman who changed my life, and you had no clue who I was.”

  “Oh my God.” I cover my face, thinking about my behavior. “So that’s why you were so persistent?”

  “Of course. I knew I needed to be with you, I just didn’t know how it was going to happen.”

  I move so that I’m lying on his shoulder, listening once again to his heart beating beneath me, so steady, so virile, so alive. “So, besides the obvious, what is the deeper meaning behind our meeting?”

  “Do I really need to say it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tessa, you once told me...or you will tell me—depends on one’s perspective—that for true bliss to be found in Tantric practices, one must love their partner. And if they should find a partner from their soul group, and if they were to practice this art together, they would find ultimate enlightenment.” He tilts my chin up so that we can look at one another. “What we just experienced...my God. If that’s not enlightenment...”

  “What are you saying?” Though I understand his words, my heart begins to pound in the first stages of panic.

  “I’m saying you are my soul mate.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two - Christophe

  I roll off his shoulder and move to the other side of the bed, lying with my arm over my face.

  “Tessa. Don’t shut me out. Look at me.”

  “No. Christophe. I can’t.” I think about Chase. I think about the things he said, the things he wanted. Oh God. This was a mistake. I’m making the same mistake all over again except this time with Christophe. Is this what Theo was talking about? Is this my biggest fear? Finding one or more of my soul mates and being trapped into a relationship, into a marriage?

  I push my feet over the edge of the bed as if I’m going to get out, but my legs are wobbly and I feel light-headed. Christophe is behind me and he takes my shoulders. I pull away.

  “Tessa, listen to me. Please.”

  I turn around. “Tonight was amazing and I don’t know why it happened that way, if it was because we’re somehow star-crossed lovers or if it was simply because we faced a life and death situation together.” I rub my temples because they are suddenly throbbing. “But I can’t be the person you want me to be. I can’t even be my future self. That’s not me. At least, not me yet.”

  “I know.” He takes my face and frames it. “Tessa. I know.”

  “You do?”

  He nods. “You’re going to leave. It’s okay. You need to. I understand.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.

  “So, that’s it?” Out of the blue, my chin quivers and I realize there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to leave. I don’t. I cover up the instant pain gnawing at my heart by saying, “You’re not going to go into some big speech on how I run away from commitment and that it’s all based on my fear of abandonment?”

  He touches my face and I realize genuine love shines from his blue eyes. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  His hand lingers on my jaw before caressing the length of my throat and my collarbones to gently hover over my heart. Instantly the warmth of our connection starts to cycle, from my heart to his and my pussy awakens with joy, anticipating the union of his body and mine. Yearning for that higher space. “Do you want me to?”

  I shake my head but it’s not an up and down motion, more circular, like I’m not sure what I want.

  He exhales. “I was wrong about you. I thought you were like me, unable to love. But, you do love.” He cups my cheek. “You love fiercely. Then you let your love go. That is probably the most difficult thing in the world to do.”

  My breath hitches in my throat, staggering in and out as I nod.

  “That is truly unconditional love.”

  I swallow down the sob that is making me feel like everything he’s saying about me is a lie. “I want to see you again,” I blurt out.

  “You will.” He shuts his eyes and leaves them closed for a minute, as if he’s seeing something behind his closed lids. When he opens his eyes, he says, “You’ve got to teach me, remember?” He sucks in air and then exhales a long slow breath. “After that? Maybe one day we will share a life together.” He strokes my cheek. “But...” His smile is tender. “That day is not today.”

  ***

  The next morning I wake to find myself alone in bed. I sit up quickly, thinking maybe Christophe has already left, but he hasn’t. He’s sitting outside on the veranda, drinking coffee and watching the surf. His bags sit by the door.

  “Good morning.”

  He smiles and stands, pulling a chair out for me. “Good morning, Tessa.” Once I’m seated, he kisses the top of my head.

  We eat breakfast in silence, watching the water, the trees, the clouds. Being there together rather than trying to fill the silence with empty words.

  We take our used dishes inside and he sits and waits while I pack. Once everything is done, he walks straight up to me, arms open wide, and I fall against his chest. “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “For what?”

  “For everything.”

  “There is no need. Thank you goes both ways. I owe you my life.”

  He holds me tight and our bodies fit together as if we were made for one another. After a long moment of holding one another and breathing together, he pulls back in order to smile down at me. It’s not a sad smile, but wistful, maybe.

  “You must do something for me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Promise to live your life fully. No more fear.”

  “I can do that.”

  His wistfulness turns to mischievousness. “Good. Because the plane is waiting.”

  “Waiting? Waiting for what?”

  “To take us skydiving.”

  ***

  As the plane rises through the air I plaster my face to the window, watching the island shrink into a tiny pinprick below us. Suddenly there isn’t enough air in the cabin and I swivel, expecting to see Christophe fighting for breath like me.

  He isn’t.

  I point to the window, to the nearly invisible island. Our unseen target. “We’re too high.” I gulp in air. “I can’t even see the island anymore.” Another gulp. “How on earth are we supposed to land on it if we can’t see it?”

  “We use our bodies and currents to fly to it.”

  “That does not make me feel better, Christophe.” The sentence is said in a quick staccato in between panting breaths.

&nbs
p; “Calm down. You’re going to be fine.”

  “I do not feel fine.” I glance worriedly out the window once more. “Wasn’t yesterday’s near death experience enough for you?”

  “There is an expression about falling off a horse and getting right back on again. Do you know it?”

  “It’s a bicycle.”

  “In French it’s a horse.”

  “It’s a stupid expression.”

  “Yet wise.”

  “Fuck off.”

  His laughter, particularly as it comes through the headset, drives me crazy and does not have the effect of calming me. He takes my hands. “Tessa? Look at me. We’re almost at ten thousand feet.”

  I have no option but to look at him.

  “Where are you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In your mind. What are you thinking about?”

  “Death. I’m thinking about dying. I’m thinking about how it will feel to go splat.”

  He suppresses a grin. “Stop thinking about that. Concentrate on what’s happening to you right now. Listen to your breath, feel it move in through your nose, down your throat, into your lungs and then...out again. Focus on your stomach, tell it to relax.” He moves behind me, pulling on parts of my harness as he continues to talk. “Close your eyes. Keep them closed. Feel everything. Taste your fear. What does it taste like? Is it metallic? Sour?”

  There is more tugging behind me and Christophe snugs himself right against me. Suddenly I am less conscious of the parts of me that aren’t in contact with him.

  “Let go, Tessa. Let go.”

  There’s a loud woosh and I feel myself falling, falling.

  He tricked me! All that thinking about other things was to distract me from falling out of an airplane and plummeting toward earth and certain death! The sky above me is endless and blue and the silver plane is already out of my grasp. Yet I reach for it stupidly and my body reacts by kicking as if I’m swimming against the strongest current imaginable.

  Relax. I’ve got you.

  How the fuck is his voice in my head? How is he so fucking calm?

  Listen to me. I’m going to maneuver us so we’re face first. Arms and legs wide.

  Before I have a chance to scream, he does it. He controls our movement so that I’m falling, belly flop-style, and he’s attached to my back. Or I’m attached to his front. Whichever it is, I’m hitting the ground first.

  Look around you. Take it in.

  Fucking easy for him to say! My cheeks are flapping because of the inhuman speed we are traveling at as we make a beeline for the earth...

  See the color of the ocean? See the island?

  I do see the island because it is approaching us at an alarming rate. Randomly, I notice its shape. Oblong with one end coming to a point and the other end wide and rounded. A giant phallus.

  The sight is hysterical. I look around to see if there are other islands in the area. Maybe there’s one shaped like a vagina right next door. That would be funny. With a little continental shift, maybe the two will come together and make baby islands.

  Oh, oh.

  Weird shit means Tessa is panicking.

  Suddenly my body is jerked up, like we got caught on something. A cloud? A passing airplane? I close my eyes, waiting for death.

  I’m letting you go now. Open your eyes.

  Looking up, I see the parachute above us, a rainbow against a cloudless sky. Too bad there aren’t any clouds. I wonder what it would feel like to fall through clouds. Could you feel them? Would you get wet?

  My face isn’t flapping anymore and I realize we are no longer plummeting but floating. The buildings on the island are decipherable now, the castle, the villas, the pools and even the dock. The panic of a second ago turns into euphoria. So this weightless floating is what it feels like to fly.

  Wow.

  It’s amazing. Liberating. Freeing.

  I love it!

  I reach around to try and grasp Christophe’s hand but...

  He’s not there.

  I’m an owl, my head turning three hundred and sixty degrees, searching for the man who was tethered to me. Where the fuck is he?!

  Relax. While his person is gone—Bam! Vanished!—his voice is still inside my head. There are red handles on either side of your vest. When I tell you to pull, pull. It’ll feel like jumping off a stool. Easy.

  I have my doubts but there’s nothing I can do about it because gravity is a tangible force and the beach is coming up to greet me whether I like it or not. Just before I hit the sand, I hear, pull!

  I do as instructed, pulling the handles down just yards above the ground. The parachute bows, lifting me before setting me down on the ground. I do not go splat, I do not fall on my face. I land on my feet as if I’ve jumped out of an airplane a million times before.

  Once I get my bearing, I realize there are people on the beach, some just watching, others are clapping. I smile, a confused, life-infused, holy-fuck-what-just-happened smile.

  Andre appears from seemingly out of nowhere and helps to unclip me from the parachute. I remove the helmet and dive suit and hand it over to Andre, who puts it in the golf cart. That’s when I notice my luggage stowed in the back basket.

  “I hope you enjoyed the jump, Ms. Savage.”

  “I did. It was...amazing. Oh my God! I can’t believe I did that.” I search the sky above. “But...where’s Christophe?”

  “Who?”

  “Mr. Chevalier. Christophe Chevalier.”

  Andre frowns. “I’m sorry. I’m not familiar with that guest.”

  “Are you kidding me right now?”

  “I assure you, I am not.”

  I don’t know why I’m stunned by this revelation. I scan the clear blue sky, certain there must be another speck up there, another parachute. He can’t just vanish into thin air, can he?

  Of course he can, the island does whatever it wants.

  I turn my attention to Andre. “Did you say something?”

  “No.” He edges toward the cart, perhaps hoping I’ll follow. “Joely will be landing shortly and then she’ll be flying out to the mainland. Are you ready to go, or do you need a minute?”

  “Give me a second.”

  With my hand to my forehead I search the empty sky, the ocean, the beach. He’s not here. I know he isn’t. As impossible and crazy as it is, Christophe is gone. Maybe he was never here.

  “Ms. Savage?” Andre says a few minutes later. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” I say, giving up on finding Christophe. “I’m coming.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three - Christophe

  The flight back is uneventful. There are a few other passengers aboard. A couple who fall asleep the second the plane is in the air, as if they didn’t sleep their entire stay in Eden, and another woman.

  I keep my eyes glued to the window, as if I expect to see Christophe diving past the plane, swimming through the clouds, saluting as he goes.

  I want to see you again, I call out to him.

  You will. You’ve got to teach me, remember? Maybe one day we will share a life together. But...that day is not today.

  I stare out the window, completely baffled. How can a paradox, like my relationship with Christophe, exist? It’s a total mind fuck and it’s next to impossible to wrap my head around it. All I know is, I am supposed to visit Eden again and when I do, I will see Christophe again.

  Holy shit.

  This whole thing could drive a girl to drink.

  Yet...I think of the experience I shared with Christophe last night, of the new and incredible heights we reached together, of all of the new ways of being he introduced me to, just a taste of the things I have yet to learn. Wow! As sad and confused as I am about not having the opportunity to properly say goodbye to Christophe, I feel light. I feel a sense of peace and joy that I sure as hell didn’t feel on my trip to Eden.

  And I know beyond a doubt that when I see Christophe again—oh my God!—I am going to have so much fun teaching him
and breaking him of his habits.

  The thought makes me laugh out loud and I rouse the young couple next to me from their exhausted slumber.

  I spend the rest of the flight thinking about how I’m going to—one day—break through Christophe’s dominant, arrogant personality to teach him how to love.

  ***

  I arrive in Miami and go to the departures board. My next job isn’t for another few weeks and I have nowhere to be, nowhere to go. This happens occasionally, so what I usually do is play a little game I like to call, ‘Take the Next Available flight out’ game. I’ve had some wild and wonderful experiences playing the game, ending up in the most interesting locations and meeting some of the most remarkable people.

  Seems like it’s a good idea to play the game today. The next scheduled flight that I have any chance of making is New York. I go up to the nearest ticketing agent and book it; there’re almost always seats available in first class.

  When I make my way to the bag drop, who should be standing there but Chase. Dammit. For a second I hope he doesn’t see me but of course he does. He watches me warily. I have no choice but to go up to him and apologize.

  However, before I have a chance to say sorry, he holds up his hand and says, “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t apologize.”

  I hate...and love that he knows me so well. “Look,” I say. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

  “What did you mean to happen?”

  “I don’t know. Nothing is ever clear when I’m around you.” A thought pierces me right between the eyes. “No. That’s not true.” I squint up at Chase. “I know one thing. I know I will always love you.”

  He nods. “Me too.”

  I don’t care if he doesn’t want to hear it, I want to say it. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He shifts from one foot to the other. “You know what the fucked up thing is?”

  I shake my head.

  “I came to the island to tell you I was done waiting, that I’d moved on.” He looks away, running a hand through his thick hair.

  “Wait.” I stare up at him, baffled. “You’re in a relationship?”

  His eyes are dull, as if he hasn’t slept in days. “Her name’s Shay. It’s over now.”