Chapter 2
There was a light tap at her office door. Ms. Leighton looked from the computer monitor to see Antonia poking her head in to check on her. “The last plane is arriving, ma’am,” she said. Her voice was smooth, laced with a thick South African accent.
Ms. Leighton removed her reading glasses and smiled.
She always appreciated Antonia’s prompt updates.
She was easily six-two in height, a thick rope of black muscle, and the engine that made all the small details run smoothly on the Isle of Dreams. Ms. Leighton knew she was ex-special forces military too. Nothing phased her second in command.
“Thank you, Antonia,” she said, pushing back from the large, teakwood desk, the centerpiece of the elegantly decorated space.
Accent pieces from places around the globe, discreetly placed on the walls and shelves, complemented the contemporary, yet tropical, decor.
“Let’s go say hello, shall we?” Stepping around the desk, she joined Antonia in the hallway.
“How did everything go with setting up the film crew?”
“Not a problem,” Antonia said as they started their now familiar walk together toward the lagoon where the plane would land. “Although may I speak freely?”
Ms. Leighton glanced up at Antonia’s face. Unlike her statuesque companion, Ms. Leighton was petite, slender, and barely five-three. “Always, you know that,” she answered.
Antonia nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “Yet, in this case, I am questioning your decision perhaps?” Ms. Leighton pursed her lips.
That type of comment was new. Although her second in command often gave advice on everything from security logistics to how best to accommodate a difficult guest, there was no precedent for her outright questioning a decision.
Ms. Leighton paused their steps and laid a hand on the woman’s thick forearm. Her light skin was a dramatic contrast to the richness of Antonia’s. “You must know, I trust you completely,” she said. “Never hesitate to speak your mind. Now, what is concerning you?”
Antonia nodded. “I appreciate that more than you can know, Ms. Leighton,” she replied, her sincerity clear in her voice. “My doubts are in regard to the filming set to begin tomorrow. You have never allowed even photography at the resort.”
“Ah, yes,” Ms. Leighton said with a nod, entirely understanding now.
“That.” She started walking again, and Antonia kindly matched her shorter stride.
It was a good question, and Ms. Leighton considered her response while they made their way down the wide path of paving stones leading away from the resort’s main house.
Antonia made no further comment, patience a signature of her personality and another one of the reasons Ms. Leighton held her in such high regard.
The question, however, did warrant an answer.
“One of our guests is a television actress,” she finally continued. “But you know that.”
Antonia knew of all the incoming visitors and, in fact, ran background checks on each to ensure none posed as something they were not.
Ms. Leighton was not foolish. She was well aware that there were people willing to pay great sums of money to know the details of her resort.
They were very selective about who was allowed to come to visit.
Even the airspace was monitored constantly by her extensive security team.
There would be no blurry drone photos on the cover of a tabloid.
Ms. Leighton would make sure of it one way or another.
“Yes, ma’am, I do,” Antonia answered. “As is her assistant. But the filming set to start is for a commercial. Albeit one for a good cause, but certainly not what Ms. Whitley wished for in her reservation.”
Ms. Leighton smiled as they reached the foot of the dock, which stretched into the lagoon. “Since when was anything as it appeared on my island?” she asked, and that elicited a deep rumble of a laugh from her companion.
“Fair enough,” she replied as the first sign of the bright red prop plane came into view against the perfectly blue sky.
As the plane dropped dramatically toward the turquoise blue water, Madeline tried to rein in her whirlwind of emotions.
Never a fan of flying, the prop plane nearly gave her a heart attack, but the idea that they were about to finally arrive made her pulse race.
Without thinking, she reached and grabbed Kel’s hand.
The younger woman sat in the seat beside her, looking irritatingly calm and unruffled.
Seventeen hours of travel and hardly a wrinkle, Madeline thought a beat before the plane bumped against the water to land.
An involuntary yip of surprise escaped her and a hint of humor lit up Kel’s blue eyes.
“Laugh and you’re so fired,” Madeline threatened.
Kel responded with a wide smile, looking so adorable, Madeline laughed out loud. “We made it?”
Kel nodded. “We made it,” she confirmed and Madeline felt the plane sway on the water as it taxied to the dock.
Barely able to contain her excitement, Madeline peeked out the small window beside her.
She was eager to see the place, already legendary, especially because of all the mystery surrounding it.
On the shore several people were waiting, all dressed in white polo’s and khaki shorts, as she would expect for employees of a tropical resort. Two individuals stood out.
As the plane came to rest beside the dock, Madeline’s eyes were drawn to the smaller woman especially.
Her sleeveless dress was a striking jade green, long, and although Madeline was too far away to tell exactly what it was, she guessed it was made of an expensive fabric.
It moved lightly in the breeze off the water, as did her shoulder-length white-blond hair.
Everything about her said confidence, and Madeline wondered if she was the infamous Ms. Leighton.
Amazingly, there were no pictures to be found of her anywhere on the internet, but rumors flew.
Many claimed she was a billionaire heiress with a God complex, and others called her an angel powered by the divine.
Beside her was another woman, but she could not be more different.
Tall and dark-skinned, with close-cropped black hair and broad shoulders, Madeline knew this woman was not someone people messed with.
Although it might have been easy to mistake her for a man at first glance, there was a glimmer of sensuality that radiated off the woman.
Even from her seat on the plane, she felt the Black woman’s power.
“Are you ready, Madeline?” she heard Kel ask, and she turned away from the view to smile at her assistant.
“Definitely,” Madeline answered, unhooking her seatbelt.
Gazing from her window on the third floor of the resort’s main house, Ruthi Shay watched the small red plane land and taxi to the dock.
The breeze coming in through the screen was warm and sweet from the scent of plumeria and other tropical flowers.
Everything about the island was gorgeous, and yet, Ruthi did not notice.
A Hollywood director of gritty, dark movies, she was callous to beauty.
Her bread and butter was capturing humanity’s suffering.
In fact, her latest achievement was an Oscar-winning film about a solar storm that crippled the world.
The dark style was her signature, and everyone in the film business bowed down to her brilliance.
If a producer was not ready to lick her boots, figuratively speaking, she spent no time on them.
As she continued to watch, a familiar-looking woman stepped from the plane.
She was blonde and slender and when she lifted her face to look around, Ruthi realized it was Madeline Whitley.
A television actress on the way out of showbiz?
she thought. The commercial Ruthi promised to direct fell even further on her list of enjoyable projects.
Normally, she would never sink so low as to shoot a commercial, even one for a charity she believed in, but it was part of the deal she made with Ms. Leighton.
In exchange for my fantasy. It better be worth it.
Suddenly, there was a knock at her suite’s door. Caught off guard, not having ordered anything brought to her room, she frowned. Ruthi lived a structured, controlled life. Interruptions drove her crazy. “Who is it?” she snapped.
There was a pause and then a quiet voice. “Delivering fresh towels, Ms. Shay.”
Ruthi closed her eyes and sighed, already frustrated with the resort. The flight in was a bumpy nightmare, the bellman was slow when he carried her bags, and even the champagne she was handed upon arrival at the house was crap. And now this disruption of my musings? she thought. Incredible.
“Just come in and do what you need to. Then get out,” Ruthi growled, not bothering to look when she heard the door open and close, followed by sharp-sounding footsteps on the wood floor. What in the world… she thought and turned.
Standing in the middle of her room was a woman in a simple maid’s uniform, but no towels were in evidence.
Ruthi was about to ask what was going on when her eyes fell to the woman’s shoes.
These were definitely not part of the average maid’s uniform.
These were a pair of jet black, four-inch stilettos.
Ruthi blinked with surprise and then raised her eyes to meet the stranger’s.
They were a vibrant green and radiated power.
The woman was stunning. Scarlet lipstick covered full lips that held a hint of a suggestive smile.
Ruthi was at a loss for what to say. Has a movie starlet-wannabee snuck into my room to beg for a role?
she wondered. Somehow, she knew that was not it. The woman before her would never beg.
“Lower your eyes,” the woman stated, her voice deceptively quiet for the authority it radiated.
Ruthi hesitated. No one told her what to do. She opened her mouth to protest but then clapped it shut. Something about the stranger made her think twice about disobeying. She looked at the floor.
“Good,” the woman continued. “When I come into a room, you will always lower your eyes to my feet.”
“Now wait,” Ruthi said. “What—”
“You will not speak unless I tell you to do so,” the woman said, gently cutting her off. “Do you understand? You may speak.”
Ruthi licked her lips, every part of her wanting to disobey, yet there was something about the stranger she found undeniable.
Sensual, powerful. In the silence, an unmistakable flutter of excitement started in Ruthi’s stomach.
The sensation caught her by surprise. How long since I felt anything?
Five years? Since Lynn left? she wondered, then realized with an unexpected panic she needed to answer.
“Yes,” she rushed out. “Yes, I understand.”
“Good,” the woman repeated, a warmth in her tone. “You will call me Eve. Do you understand? You may speak.”
“Yes, Eve.” Ruthi answered immediately this time, feeling the excitement in her body spread. When the sound of the woman’s heels tapped on the floor, Ruthi nearly looked up. Not until she heard the door open and close, did she peek. The woman was gone, and Ruthi realized her fantasy had begun.