by Lila Dubois
Solomon was snarling at their kidnapper. Vivienne looked out the window, watching in fascinated horror as they lifted off the ground.
“I’m going to get us out of this, Vivi baby.”
Solomon’s words brought her attention around. He’d put on a helmet while she was looking out the window, and his voice was clear and comforting in her ears.
He met her gaze, and damn it but she wanted nothing so much as to throw her arms around him and hold him. Be held by him.
For a moment she was glad the bindings prevented her from doing that. He shifted so his big body was between her and their kidnapper.
“Mr. Carter, welcome to your intervention,” their kidnapper said.
“My what?”
“Actually, it’s not just your intervention. This is for both of you. You’re welcome to release her. I needed to focus on getting you into the helicopter; I didn’t want her to either bolt or say something that might prevent you from coming up to us.”
Damn it, she’d thought she was saving Solomon. Instead she all but guaranteed that he would end up with her.
Keeping his focus on their assailant, Solomon reached back with one hand and undid the buckle on one wrist. Vivienne lifted her wrist the moment she could and started freeing herself.
“What do you mean, intervention?” Solomon asked. “And where do I know you from?”
Solomon recognized him? Vivienne reached up under the helmet and yanked the upper strap of the muzzle forward and down, then reached around and undid the one at the back of her neck, making sure to keep the helmet on as she did so, so she could hear the conversation.
“I don’t think we had the pleasure of meeting in Paris.” Their kidnapper held out his hand. “Nerio Deniaud.”
“In Paris?”
“He’s a member of the Orchid Club.” Vivienne said. She shoved the restraints and muzzle to the floor, then touched Solomon’s shoulder. His naked skin was hot. She needed the connection.
“I am,” Nerio said. “And I’m also the man who’s going to help you two save your relationship.”
“What?” Vivienne asked in unison with Solomon.
“As I said, welcome to your intervention.”
There was a beat of silence after that statement. Finally Vivienne cleared her throat. “I think Edmund and James tried to arrange for us to meet, and somehow he got involved. The kidnapping seems to have been his idea.”
“Remind me to kill James.” Solomon’s tone was conversational, but at that moment if James Nolen had been present, Vivienne would not have been surprised if Solomon strangled the man.
“It was,” Nerio confirmed. “As I was telling Vivienne before you joined us—”
“Joined you? Call a spade a spade, asshole.”
“—James and Edmund hoped to arrange for both of you to come to Miami and board my boat where you would—in a moment no doubt worthy of a romantic comedy—unexpectedly see one another. And, of course at that point, we would have secretly left the dock and you would be trapped together on the boat, where you would work out your issues and get back together.”
Vivienne’s heart clenched. “Edmund was trying to get me back together with Solomon?”
“That’s how it appeared to me,” Nerio said. “I’m a bit of a romantic myself, a flaw I know, but after seeing you two scene in Paris, I admit I too feel the urge to play matchmaker.” He held up his hands, fingers spread as if to indicate the helicopter which was now speeding over the ocean away from the safety of Luca Cay.
“So you kidnapped us…” Solomon shot a quick glance at Vivienne’s direction.
“Well, you see they came up with this plan several days ago, and approached me about it. After we’d had our initial discussions, you, Vivienne, took matters into your own hands and went to Solomon.”
“So why did you kidnap us?” Solomon asked through gritted teeth.
“As I said, I’m a romantic. You two have a great tragic love story. However, left to your own devices, the ending of the story would be exactly that, tragic.” Nerio smiled again. “I’m going to help you prevent that.”
“We don’t need your help,” Vivienne said softly. “Solomon and I know exactly what we’re doing. We were a tragic love story, but not anymore.”
“Oh?” Nerio asked.
Vivienne didn’t look at Solomon as she said, “We had our night together. We got closure. Our love story ended and not tragically.”
“Oh?” Nerio said again, before glancing from her to Solomon.
“It was sweet, if terribly misguided, of James and Edmund to involve themselves in our relationship. Once I get home, I will be sure to have a long talk about boundaries with my cousin.”
Nerio seemed to be ignoring her. He was looking at Solomon. “Is that how you feel, Mr. Carter? Am I truly too late?”
Vivienne looked at her former lover, expecting him to say yes.
Solomon rubbed his hands over his face.
“Solomon?” Why wasn’t he saying anything? “Solomon.”
Finally, he looked up, carefully not looking her direction. “Vivienne’s done. She called for a ride off the island. I’m guessing she thought this was it. If you drop me back on Luca Cay, I’ll call George Town and let them know she’s on her way.”
Solomon didn’t sound angry any longer, he sounded tired, and defeated. As if what she’d said hurt him.
“Solomon, why aren’t you… why do you sound as if…” She didn’t know how to finish those questions.
That wasn’t accurate. She knew how to finish them. What she was asking was, “Why aren’t you happy I’m leaving? You never wanted me on your island. Why do you sound like I’ve broken your heart?”
But she wasn’t about to ask those questions.
“It seems to me,” Nerio said briskly, “that I was right. You two are in need of my help.”
Solomon’s shoulders tightened. “Like hell. Take us back to Luca Cay and I won’t report you.”
Nerio glanced pointedly out the window. “I assure you we are in international waters.”
“And you think that will protect you?”
“I think that you two aren’t really done with each other.”
“We are,” Vivienne insisted.
Solomon hesitated, clearing his throat, before saying, “Yes. We had our last night together. Closure.”
Vivienne stared at him in shock. Solomon didn’t believe what he was saying. What did that mean?
That it hadn’t been their last night together? Hadn’t been closure?
Her breath caught on the start of a sob. No. She’d found the strength to walk away and now he was pulling her back in, intentionally or not, because his hesitation, his body language, made it seem as if…
He didn’t want her to leave.
He still had feelings for her.
He might still love her.
A new voice came through the speakers in the helmet. “Ten minutes out, Mr. Deniaud.”
“Thank you, Carlos.” Nerio looked between them, smiling in a way that made him look wickedly handsome. “I’ve decided our guests will, most definitely, be spending a few days with us.”
Solomon snarled. “Like hell. Take us back to Luca Cay right now.”
Nerio tipped his head to the side. “No.”
“Enough,” Solomon’s voice rang with authority. “This is kidnapping, and, while James and Edmund are both fucking morons, I doubt they agreed to having you forcibly kidnap us.”
“They would not have, if I told them the entirety of my plan. I informed them that I was planning to come to your island to see if Vivienne’s unexpected visit had resulted in a…” He grinned. “…love connection. If it hadn’t, I would lure you onto my yacht, and the same plan would take effect, except instead of being off the coast of Miami, we’d be in the Bahamas.” He craned his neck, looking out at the water. “As you heard my pilot say, we’ll be there shortly, and the plan will commence.”
“Except you kidnapped us,” Vivienne said soft
ly, knowing the mic would still pick up her words.
“The opportunity presented itself. You seemed to be leaving.” Nerio pointed at her. “And he was watching you leave while looking heartbroken. It seemed the love connection hadn’t been made, so here we are.”
Solomon and Vivienne both started to speak—something about Nerio’s snide tone just begging for a sharp reply—but the helicopter banked hard and then started to descent. Vivienne’s stomach flipped upside down as her inner ear lost track of where the ground was.
A moment later they evened out, and then the helicopter started to descend again, dropping straight down. There was a thump as they touched, and Vivienne’s stomach stopped trying to crawl up out of her mouth.
The sound of the blades slowed, and Nerio reached out and grabbed the door handle, opening it.
She hadn’t been paying attention to where they were, concentrating as she had been on keeping herself from getting horrifically airsick.
They’d touched down on the aft part of a super yacht. The chrome and brass accents of the ship glittered in the morning light, that sparkle echoed in the way the sun bounced off the ocean. There was nothing else but this ship as far as the horizon.
Vivienne looked at Solomon. She didn’t speak, not wanting anything she said to be overheard. She hoped Solomon could read her expression.
His gaze met hers, and some of what she was feeling was reflected in his eyes. Fear and anger, worry and confusion.
He reached up and took off his helmet, then held out his hand. Vivienne removed her own headgear, then placed her fingers in his palm. Solomon drew her to her feet, though they had to remain bent at the waist, and led her past Nerio, out of the helicopter. He stepped down first then turned, putting his hands on her waist and lifting her out.
They were the first ones off the aircraft, and it was a statement. Nerio had brought them here against their will, but they weren’t afraid.
Surprisingly, in that moment, she really wasn’t afraid. Holding Solomon’s hand, their fingers intertwined, gave her a sense of security.
Solomon led her to the edge of the helipad. They looked out over the endless expanse of ocean.
“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” she asked quietly. The helicopter blades hadn’t fully stopped yet, and the noise they made gave them a moment of privacy.
“About who he is? Yes. I recognize him from the Paris event.”
“And you think James and Edmund…?”
“It’s one of the many questions I intend to ask James.” Solomon’s hand tightened on hers. “Don’t worry, Vivi baby. We’re leaving this boat today.”
Vivi baby. Oh how she wished he hadn’t called her that. It shook the foundation of her resolve to leave this man.
“Mr. Carter, Mademoiselle Deschamps, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your rooms.” Nerio stood a few meters back, looking at them. He looked suitably dramatic, the wind blowing his black shirt against his chest and abdomen.
Solomon tugged her to follow as he walked towards the stairs that led down off the helipad. She stayed close to him, taking comfort in his presence.
Don’t be a fool.
Vivienne closed her eyes, reaching deep inside and firming her resolve to walk away from this man. In a matter of hours they’d be off this ship. This was all some elaborate combination of misunderstanding and lack of boundaries on Nerio’s side. Once they were out of the current predicament, she had to go back to Paris.
She couldn’t, wouldn’t, let Solomon break her heart again.
Chapter 2
Solomon kept a hold of Vivienne’s hand as they followed Nerio through the interior of the super yacht. As someone who owned an island, he had a special hatred for yachters, and nothing about Nerio’s boat was changing his mind.
The other man extolled its many “virtues”—it was clear from the way he talked about the features, he found them to be virtues. One hundred and ten meters long, with a twenty meter beam. There were ten ensuite state rooms, housing for up to twenty crew members, four different levels of deck, two of which had pools, a dive platform, a variety of watercraft stored in custom water line docking pods that meant visitors could arrive via helicopter or be brought in by speedboat. Smaller boats would slide right into the belly of the yacht, and guests could board via an internal staircase. The central receiving area was as large as a hotel lobby, and circular, with a bar on either side and long, curved couches.
Solomon let Nerio talk, only half listening. He was focusing on what he was going to do first. Much to his regret, sucker punching Nerio was, no matter how he worked it, not the logical first step.
Off the central receiving room was a grand staircase that went both up and down. They went down, into the heart of the ship. The landing at the bottom of the stairs boasted an inlaid floor. Directly across from the staircase was a set of black lacquer double doors. Two hallways branched off, and Nerio led them to the one on the right.
Solomon took careful note of the route they’d taken, and he caught a glimpse of Vivienne doing the same. The hallway they walked down was teak paneled and smelled like lemon and ocean. There were evenly spaced doors labeled one to four on the left, interior side. On the right there were only two doors, with brass plaques bearing the names of what he thought might be endangered coral species.
Nerio stopped, gesturing to one of the lefthand doors. Number four. The door itself was elegant, glossy wood with a brass handle. “Your accommodations,” he said, playing the gracious host.
“Phone,” Solomon demanded.
“There’s one in your room.” Nerio opened the door and gestured.
“And is that your helicopter we came in on?”
“Yes. It stays with the ship.”
“Good. Tell the pilots not to get too far away.”
“Oh? You’re planning on leaving?”
Solomon didn’t really want to have this conversation standing in this narrow hall. Vivienne was at his back, which meant that anybody coming at him from behind would be able to get her first.
Ignoring Nerio’s question, Solomon peered in past the open door. The stateroom was lush, if not particularly large, given the scale of the rest of the boat. The walls and floor were done in the same glossy paneling as the hallway. A huge dark blue and cream oriental rug covered most of the interior floor space.
The bed was a massive fourposter affair. Rather than freestanding, the bed posts went floor to ceiling, bolted in place by glossy brass L brackets. The presence of the trunk-like posts gave the room an almost forest-like feel.
There were three doors besides the entry door, two in the wall opposite the head of the bed, and one directly across from the entrance. There was no other furniture in the bedroom, not even a chair. Inset brass ring pulls showed where the flush mounted closets, drawers, and hidden desk were.
Solomon walked in, keeping Vivienne beside him. Earlier, Nerio had said “rooms,” implying they were both going to get their own cabin. There was no way to discuss it with her privately, but Solomon didn’t think that they should separate. Perhaps she had the same thought because she stayed with him, though once they were into the bedroom she stepped up beside him rather than remaining at his back.
Nerio stood in the open door, hands braced on the jamb. “I’ll give you a moment to get settled, though our unorthodox departure means I don’t have overnight bags for either of you, as was planned.”
“Let’s cut the crap,” Solomon said. “We’re not staying here. The only question is how much hellfire do you want to rain down on you for kidnapping us.”
Nerio dropped his arms then leaned one shoulder against the doorway. “Are you threatening me?”
“Yes, you dumb fuck. I am.”
Beside him, Vivienne snorted out a laugh. When she pressed her face into his shoulder to stifle the noise, he felt instantly calmer.
Don’t forget, she was leaving you. She thought Nerio was the helicopter she ordered to walk out of your life.
“Yo
ur threat is…what?” Nerio asked conversationally. “That you will call the authorities in the Bahamas and report your own kidnapping, unless I return you to your island?”
“Pretty much. A boat like this, you can’t go more than what, fifteen knots an hour? You’ll never out run them.”
“Very true, I wouldn’t.”
Solomon had expected Nerio to get upset, make counter threats, or in some other way react. Instead he just seemed amused.
“Let’s think this through,” Nerio said. “You call the Royal Bahamas Defence Force. You report that you, Solomon Carter, U.S. citizen and executive of RedBall, and Vivienne Deschamps, French citizen and CEO of CRD Beauvalot, have been kidnapped. You tell them you are being held against you will. Oh, and don’t forget to tell them who kidnapped you. Make sure to give them my name.”
Solomon’s internal monologue became a steady stream of curses. He didn’t say anything aloud though.
“I would guess it will take no more than ten minutes for the first major news corporation in the U.S. to pick up the story. A single bit of gossip or phone call from somebody at the Royal Bahamas Defence Force office to a well-connected Twitter user is all it will take. Word will spread fast when the news is this delicious.”
Beside him Vivienne begin cursing under her breath in French.
Nerio raised one brow and then switched to that language, demonstrating that he had understood when Vivienne called him literally, a knot-head badger, which more accurately translated to dickhead asshole.
“My understanding is that simply being seen together on the street in Paris was enough to cause major upheaval both within your company, Mademoiselle Deschamps, and to a lesser extent for you, Mr. Carter. A single paparazzi photo would be nothing compared to the international incident that would result from the two of you informing a foreign government that you had been kidnapped and were being held aboard a ship in international waters flying a Cayman Islands flag.”
They were trapped and not by Nerio. Physically he’d managed to corral them on this floating monument to capitalism, but they were really trapped because the other man was right. Any sort of official complaint or report would result in a huge international incident.
