Jack_A Cryptocurrency Billionaire Romance

by Sara Forbes

  “Hmm, an idea for the trip back?”

  “Hold that thought,” I say, kissing her. “Now I have to get more water.” I hold up the bottles over her face, letting the last few drops fall on her outstretched tongue. She’s so erotic I want to write a soft porn movie for her to star in.

  She scrambles to sitting position. “I’ll come with you; I can’t have you fighting snakes on your own.”

  “No, stay here. Seriously, I know to be careful. You need to conserve energy.”

  “Well, we just burned up a million calories.”

  “All the more reason to stay put.”

  She folds her arms against her chest, looking stubborn.

  Yeah, she may believe that all she needs is air and water and sweet lovemaking. But she needs food. She may get faint by this time tomorrow if I find nothing. Our supplies are non-existent. Just a protein bar, which we shared an hour ago, and some dumb mints. Felix always takes glucose high-energy sweets wherever he goes. I should adopt that habit.

  I find the landmark group of rocks demarcating the spot where the spring is and I refill the two empty bottles. Snaky boy doesn’t come out to say hello, so I’m good.

  When I return to base camp, Mia’s sitting up, pensively looking at her phone. She sags when she sees me, but just as quickly her eyebrows draw together as she reverts her attention to her screen.

  “It’s time to call the crew. They should all be in Aruba by now,” she says.

  “Yeah. Are you calling your aunt?”

  She shakes her head. “Nope, my friend Annie. She’s in the restaurant. Alone.”

  “And that’s bad because?”

  “Al. He’s our boss. He’s a bully. I don’t trust him alone with her.”

  “You think she’s in some kind of danger?”

  “I think I should be there.” Her lips flatten to a line.

  I sit down beside her and caress her shoulder. “She’ll be fine, you’ll see. It won’t be long until you’re back.”

  She nods and puts the phone to her ear.

  I deposit the water bottles where the sand is cool and walk away to give her privacy. I pull out my own phone to call Cara to give her a piece of my mind for leaving us behind. Not that it hasn’t been great here, but that’s not the point.

  There’s no answer.

  I try Rita.

  “God, Jack. What the fucking hell?” she screeches. I yank the phone away from my ear. “Where are you? I was about to call the Venezuelan police. Her mother—God, she doesn’t even know yet. Is she OK?”

  “She’s fine. Don’t mention anything to the mom till we’re back in Aruba. Please.”

  “OK. OK.” There’s a pause, and I hear heavy breathing. I give her time. “I’m so, so sorry, Jack. The pilot was shouting at Cara. We didn’t know what to do. He said he was flying off with or without us, and—”

  “You did the right thing,” I interrupt. “But couldn’t you have called me while it was happening, like before you took off?”

  “Wouldn’t have helped. He was jabbering in some dialect, and believe me, you couldn’t have swayed him. Cara did her best. Look, there’s another plane coming the day after tomorrow…or just organize something yourself.”

  “That’s not possible. We have to wait for the same plane. It’s private airspace.”

  “Let me talk to her.”

  I glance over at Mia, whose face is drawn after her own conversation. She’s staring into middle distance.

  “Rita.” I mouth.

  Mia groans but reaches for the phone.

  The conversation is a succession of “yes” and “I’m OK.” And then she clicks off, looking up at me dolefully.

  I raise a questioning eyebrow.

  “Well, after establishing that I’m not in mortal danger, she lost no time in asking me to practice the Sola soliloquy with Jim’s camera while we’re here.”

  I give her a bracing smile. “We can do that.”

  “We?”

  “Yeah, I’m going to help.”

  She clutches her head. “Both of you! You’re going on as if this is some kind of normal.”

  I rub my hairline, which is itchy as all hell from sweating. “It’s not. But let’s make the most of the situation.”

  She snorts and shakes her head slowly.

  “What?”

  “It’s just… I don’t know! This may be a small thing to you. Being here. Being...together!” She wrings her fingers together. “Maybe it’s a funny story you can tell your buddies over a game of golf. But it’s a game changer for me. I can’t think in terms of optimizing the situation…and using up the hours because I’m on some kind of budget.” She lowers her eyelids. “Oooh, what’s the point?”

  I swallow in my dry throat. All I want to do is forget we’re even making a movie, clasp her to me, and make sweet love again under this palm tree until she’s moaning my name again. That would be heaven. Which is why focusing on work is a good idea.

  “Mia, having useful material on camera will prove that we weren’t just goofing around here. You’ll be glad of that when you get back and have to face the rest of the team in the next staff meeting.”

  She crosses her arms. “You’ll be glad, more like.”

  “I have my reputation already.” I say softly. “You’re just starting out, and you’ve got way more to lose. You don’t want to be known as the actress who slept her way up.”

  Her narrowed eyes tell me I’ve hit a sore point.

  “Prove to them that you’re more than that,” I add. “Because you are.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s going to take more than a camera reel, Jack.” She lolls her head back against the tree trunk. “I knew this would happen. I may as well get it over with.”

  “You knew what would happen?”

  She must hear the harshness in my tone because her eyes widen. “This.” She flaps her hand vaguely in the space between us.

  “You knew we’d get stranded on an island? Or you knew we’d get involved?”

  “I knew I’d be defined by who I know, not what I know.” She examines her toes.

  “Maybe you don’t have formal qualifications to speak of, but you know about how to hold your own on stage. More than some seasoned actors.”

  It gets a little smile from her. “All you’re missing is some training and an agent. I’m surprised Rita didn’t get you set up.”

  Her grip on her phone tightens. I’m pushing her into territory she’s not ready to enter, but damn it, I need to figure her out if I’m going to help her.

  “Aunt Rita wasn’t in my life until my dad died,” she says, her voice subdued. “I know you think she helped me get my first acting gig.”

  I nod; there’s no point in denying it.

  “But she had nothing to do with it. I loved acting from an early age, since before I even understood what she did for a living. Not that anyone believes me. Nobody even asks. They all just assume.”

  I tap her forearm. “I do. Now that you’ve told me.”

  Her gaze trails down to my fingers, and I withdraw them. Her soft skin is too distracting for a serious conversation.

  “I got that audition all by myself at age thirteen. But after that one lucky break, nothing else worked. Just as I was ready to give up, at age sixteen, I got an interview with a major agency. Kyber Associates.”

  I blink in surprise. “They’re pretty decent.”

  Mia twists her mouth into a non-amused smile. “The agent I met informed me I had a ‘special look.’” She lowers her gaze. “After a chat, he offered to mentor me. I agreed, while trying to bring up, well, representation. But he never had me read. Never checked my education or anything.”

  Mia’s voice is cracking. “What he did was ask me to have sex with him.”

  My blood runs cold in my veins. I’m picturing a balding guy in a polyester suit and my hands closing around his neck as he struggles to gasp his last breath. “What did you do?” I ask. It comes out as a rasp.

  “I laughed it
off. Or tried to. I also tried to push the conversation into any other direction. But he was serious. Kept on about it. I should have gotten out of there, Jack, but I didn’t. He said he was engaged and wanted his last non-marital sexual encounter to be with me. He made it clear having sex wouldn’t guarantee me a great role but wouldn't preclude me from getting one, either—wink, wink.”

  Her voice peters out completely. All I can offer is my hand, clasped over hers, tightening. “What then?” I ease the pressure off her hand, as I’m squeezing too tight.

  “I declined, and the agent who shall not be named wasn’t heard from again.”

  “I’m going to find him and kill him. What’s his name?”

  She tugs her hand from my grasp. “It’s not that I don’t think he deserves it, Jack. It’s just…it’s not what defines me anymore. I don’t want it to. And I don’t have a good experience telling people either.” Her gaze flickers off my face.

  “What?”

  “The worst thing was when I spilled my story to my boyfriend at the time—his reaction was to get jealous and try to molest me, claiming I’d led that guy on. I only narrowly escaped. I climbed out his bathroom window in my underwear. Luckily, it was dark and I could scramble across to Annie’s house.”

  “He’s number two on my death list. Holy shit, Mia. You were sixteen?”

  She nods.

  “I’m sorry you went through that.” My words seem woefully inadequate for the rage I feel.

  Her head bobs. “I just felt low and dirty and useless. Ashamed. For about two years after that I stopped auditioning, stopped drama classes. And I couldn’t face those children again. I didn’t feel worthy.”

  “Hence the gaps in your résumé.”

  “Yeah. I tried drugs, different friends, boyfriends, different fashions, music, all of it, looking to discover who I really was. I gave up school. Nothing worked. I was a hot mess. The only good thing that came out of that time was my friendship with Annie. That still holds.

  “All the while Aunt Rita was making a bigger name for herself in Hollywood. She thought I was lazy. She flipped her lid when she heard I’d spent all my savings, and refused to help or even to come visit. But I knew deep down, even while my life was going to pieces, that acting was the thing I was born to do. So, on my eighteenth birthday, I realized I needed to either go for it or I was going to work my way up in the gastronomy business. Either way, I had to stop feeling sorry for myself.”

  “And you decided to act?”

  “Yup. I begged Aunt Rita for a leg up. Any little door opener. For ages. She kept on refusing. She said I had to prove I could live on my own, because there was nothing more pathetic than an actor who hadn’t supported themselves first.”

  I let out a grim laugh. “Oh, I can very easily picture Rita saying that. Tough love, huh?”

  “Yeah.” She rolls her eyes. “So, when Dad died the Christmas before last, Mom moved to live with her sister in Colorado and I looked for an apartment with Annie in LA. Mom wanted me to go with her, but I convinced her to let me stay in LA. You know what rent prices are like, but LA is where it’s at, so I’m doing all I can to stay afloat. Waitressing, cleaning, bartending, I’ve done it all. And room sharing. It’s not a glam life, but something must have convinced Aunt Rita that I finally have my shit together, because she walked in my door last week.”

  “See? Your life’s turning around. With hard work and good decisions, it’ll work out. I’ll mentor you.” I break off. I must sound exactly like that agency jerk. “But one thing I’ll never do is exploit you,” I add.

  Smiling, she brushes her fingers down my cheek, making my breath come out in a hiss. “I know that.” She readjusts her limbs, bathed in golden sunshine. This woman looks so sunny and gorgeous and self-possessed now, it’s hard to imagine the tormented teenager she must have been.

  I nuzzle my nose into her hair, enjoying the warm silkiness that smells of lime and coconut scent and sunshine. Then she lifts her head and our lips meet. We kiss tenderly this time.

  “You have ways of exploiting me that I don’t mind,” she says huskily.

  It sets me off again. We make sweet love under the tree, this time slower and more intimately. Knowing we have water has helped up to relax. Knowing what she’s been through with her past makes me feel a connection to her as deep as my bones.

  Sitting later, watching the breeze riffle the leaves of the trees, we’re both quiet but accepting of each other’s silence. I can’t guarantee that her path ahead will be easy— in fact I know it won’t be—but I do want to be with her every step of the way. This desert island experience has accelerated what was going to happen anyway. And her vulnerability has lit a fuse in me that won’t go out. Hell, it’s more likely to explode and take me with it.

  15

  MIA

  TELLING JACK MY SORRY history wasn’t exactly something I’d planned to do, and it’s opened up a gaping well inside of me that I’d thought I’d concreted over. I don’t know whether it’s the eerie solitude or the desperate food cravings or my addiction to his body, but as the minutes and hours tick by, I seem unable to stop blabbing to him. Like, everything. He’s so concentrated, it makes me feel like I’m the only woman in the universe.

  I’ve told him about my living situation, and I move onto the topic of Annie and Al. “He’s always looked at her a bit strangely. And then three weeks ago, he started with the inappropriate stuff. A slap on the bum as she’d pass, dirty talk, that kind of thing. He never tried it with me because he knows I’d fucking kick him in the nuts, but Annie’s different, less assertive, and not very strong, and he preys on that. We agreed then and there, that she’d never finish a shift alone, that I or her brother would be there, just in case. I just hope she had the good sense to not show up today.”

  Jack curls his arm around me. “But all you know is that she didn’t answer her phone; it could be anything. She’s probably serving customers. Try again.”

  “Yeah.”

  We stare out to the ever-changing, sparkling turquoise sea. Despite the fact that my head is throbbing right behind my eyeballs and my tongue is made of sandpaper, I feel better just having shared this with him, and everything else. I let myself sink into the daydream that all will be well as long as he’s here with me.

  When I get no answer from Annie, he rises, takes me by the hand, and leads me into the tent. We stretch out on the sleeping bag, propped up on our elbows, facing each other. I slide my arm onto his hip. When my gaze meets his again, his sapphire eyes are glowing, burning with heat. His mouth meets mine, his tongue glides between my teeth. I moan as he explores every inch of my mouth, communicating what words cannot.

  I slide my hand up his shirt, searching for new ways to make him gasp, enjoying the smooth hardness of his physique. Many actors in Hollywood would die for abs like his. I want him to conquer me again, to fill me so that nothing else matters.

  He fingers my jaw, lifting my chin to gaze into my eyes. “Mia,” he says in a voice thick with need, “I don’t want to take advantage of you. If this isn’t what you really want, I need to stop.”

  “I want,” I say thickly. “I need.”

  He plays with my bikini strap before slowly peeling it down my shoulder and releasing me from the garment. I shudder as he gently cups my breasts, holding them, caressing the peaks with his thumbs, sending jolts straight to my groin and waking everything up again. Then he releases me, pulls off his own shirt, and gives me the view I’ve been craving...his defined muscles and taut lines of temptation, pure irresistible, manly sin.

  He smooths his fingers over my ribs, down the curve of my waist, and hooks them in fabric of the bikini bottom, peeling the damp scrap of fabric down my legs.

  “How many condoms did you buy in that pharmacy anyway?”

  “Not enough, I’m guessing.”

  He laughs, shucking off his pants. “Well, I’m glad one of us came prepared for survival.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “Bel
ieve it or not, I came here to work.” He whips the condom from my fingers. I only get a split-second glimpse of his erection before he planks his body over mine, grabs my head in his hands, and devours me in a kiss. With my fingers clasped tight around his neck I pull him closer.

  “Is this work?” I ask.

  “It’s keeping my staff happy.”

  “In a very inappropriate way.”

  “I don’t hear you complaining.” He sinks onto his elbows, slides his tip along my wet entrance, and I have to admit that no, I have nothing to complain about.

  ***

  WAKING UP IN THE sun-filled tent to the sound of sea birds cawing and the sensation of a hard cock pressing against my hip was a nice way to start the day. Jack and I made the most of it, cuddled, and then decided to get fresh air. And that’s when it hit me.

  Hunger.

  I don’t want to say “I’m starving” out loud, because that would be pathetic, especially as I know it must be ten times worse for him. That tall, hard body of his needs fuel, and lots of it. But he doesn’t complain, just sits there stoically chewing a two-calorie mint like it’s one of those magic Willy Wonka ones that gives you a whole dinner.

  We drink a lot of water; snakes notwithstanding, we traipse with empty bottles over and back to the spring a lot. At least we have this; otherwise we’d have surely died by now. And I haven’t seen any snakes myself.

  Jack’s pointing the camera to the sea and making adjustments to the lens. “Let’s shoot the scene after Carter whisks Seela away and leaves Sola abandoned. It’s the perfect light; Rita would be jumping for joy. You know your lines?”

  “Yep. Just read over them again.” Saying them is going to be a whole lot sweeter without having to wear that godawful costume.

  I follow Jack as he climbs over a dune to a wind-sheltered patch of sand surrounded by Caribbean pines so massive and scaly that they actually look alien. “It’s the perfect spot for Sola to do her hand-wringing act.”

  “Now remember, Seela has disappeared with Carter. Sola’s worried, and not a little jealous.”