CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘H AVE YOU VISITED Bali before?’
She looked up, surprised by the question. They’d relocated to the third largest salon after making love, with Jario once again monosyllabic. But she’d been fiercely aware of his contemplative looks for the past hour in between the furious taps on his tablet.
She shook her head, the butterflies in her belly fluttering wildly as his gaze raked over her face to linger heatedly on her mouth. ‘The extent of my international travels so far was Cancun for spring break when I was in college, and Los Cabos...last week.’
The tiniest flattening of his mouth greeted the reminder but a moment later he set down his tablet and rose. ‘Let’s change that.’
‘We’re leaving the yacht?’ she asked, amazed.
He’d been reclusive on his yacht for years. Surely, it couldn’t be as easy as stepping off when he chose? And why now? Her heart lurched then flew at the thought that it might have...something to do with—
His face tightened, killing that lofty notion that her presence had triggered some miracle. ‘We’re not going ashore if that’s what you were hoping,’ he said tightly.
Her heart plummeted but she held on tight to her composure. ‘Then where are we going?’
‘There are ways to tour a place without setting foot on it or shutting yourself off within four walls.’ He rose. ‘Come.’
She told herself it was curiosity that made her join him, not the deep compulsion to remain in his company.
He was dressed in another loose-fitting pair of white lounging bottoms and a white T-shirt and she couldn’t take her eyes off his magnificent physique until she realised where he’d led her.
The gleaming top-of-the-line helicopter sat on the H of the helipad.
‘You fly?’
‘Are you surprised?’
A snort escaped before she could stem it. ‘From what I’ve seen so far, there’s not much you can’t do. Except scrub floors. That, I think you’d be absolutely terrible at.’
His mouth twitched and she was slammed by the need to see it bloom into a full smile or laugh. Her stomach dipped at the very idea because she knew it would be amazing.
‘Reverse psychology, especially a half-baked one, is a ploy I’ll never fall for so save yourself the energy, hmm?’
Her own smile burst free. ‘It was worth a try.’
The smallest flash of his teeth made her hold her breath in anticipation of the full works, but a nanosecond later he was turning, opening the door to the sleek cockpit of the chopper, hand out to assist her.
She took it and hopped up onto the seat, then exhaled sharply when he hung on to her, his thumb caressing back and forth, almost contemplatively over her knuckles. For another eternity, they remained caught in yet another charged bubble as the sun blazed down on them.
‘Something on your mind?’ she ventured when the silence stretched her nerves tight.
His free hand dropped to her exposed thigh, then slowly slid beneath the hem of her white-and-turquoise sundress. ‘You have no right to be this stunning. To keep me this knotted over you.’
Her mouth gaped, her face flaming so bright she feared she would catch fire. ‘Am I supposed to apologise for the way you feel?’
Jaw clenching, he dropped a hard kiss on her knuckles before rounding the aircraft to take his seat beside her. With sleek headphones in his strong hands, he sent her another brooding look. ‘For making me fight two battles instead of one? Shaking foundations you shouldn’t? I’m minded to make you pay for it one way or another, pequena .’ He handed her the headphones.
Willow was still grappling with that unexpected exchange when he eased back the cyclic, and the chopper lifted into the air. Threat or promise? She couldn’t tell, because a minute after they’d left the yacht behind, his voice flowed like warm honey over gravel into her ear as he pointed out the first landmark.
And for the next hour, he showed her a spectacular piece of the Island of the Gods, with its stunning Hindu temples, rice terraces and unique black sand beaches. She marvelled over the semiactive rumblings of the Gunung Agung volcano, then suffered stomach-churning anxiety when his gaze rested on her for long, nerve-shredding moments.
It was clear Jario, far from being able to compartmentalise what was happening between them, was perhaps attempting to wrestle with the not so tidy ramifications of their connection.
And yes, she was half-ashamed to admit she liked him as unnerved as she was. Because maybe, out of that confusion, they could chart a different course? That maybe she wouldn’t have to step off her crossroads alone?
That notion stayed, steeped and grew stronger legs as the tour progressed, as he pointed out little-known places on the island and exposed for her a deep well of interest of his surroundings.
Grasping that she could listen to him forever wasn’t akin to the wide-eyed yearning of a giggling teenager but an appreciation for the complex, compelling man his circumstances had moulded him to.
And if the way he did everything with intense passion deepened her appreciation? She fought the way her heart lurched at that thought.
Because all too soon they were landing and he was helping her out. His mouth pinched as he stared down at her for an age.
Then, sliding both hands into her hair, he took her mouth in a deep, erotic kiss, leaving her completely breathless before pulling back. ‘I have guests coming tonight. Join me at seven?’
She’d barely nodded before he was gone.
Willow stepped onto the designated deck and stopped in her tracks.
So far, Jario had favoured casual wear, albeit all GQ Magazine –worthy.
Seeing him in a formal dinner jacket, his dark silk shirt open at the throat and matching trousers, the hem of which rested on highly polished shoes, was an unguarded punch to her solar plexus.
Dear God, but he was beautiful. And why did seeing him with a glass of cognac in his hand always do silly, feverish things to her? When had she developed this insane fetish?
He turned as he took a sip, then he froze, too, at seeing her.
Arrows of self-consciousness stabbed her as his gaze raked over her.
Besides the swimsuits and various accessories that had been appearing in her room steadily over the past couple of days, the dress she wore had been the most surprising.
It had been laid out on her bed when they’d returned from their helicopter ride. Her belly had flipped with a mixture of excitement and apprehension, but the overwhelming feeling that despite his gruff resistance, he wasn’t ready to end this fling yet had made her heart pitch and race. Also, she’d already crossed several lines by sharing his bed. What was one more step?
The one-shoulder orange charmeuse gown had an exquisite ruffled, rose-petalled hem that ended just above her knee and billowed softly with her movements, showing off her tanned legs. The gold hoops in her ears, a thick gold bangle and matching gold-heeled pumps topped off her confidence, helped square her shoulders at the prospect of joining the twelve influential guests arriving shortly for Jario’s business dinner.
‘You wore the dress.’ He handed her a glass of champagne.
‘Yes.’ God, could she sound any more breathless?
‘You look magnificent.’ The deep throb in his voice made her heart race even faster.
‘Thank you,’ she said, then on a silent prayer and remembering the battles he’d referred to earlier, she took a deep breath. ‘We have time before your guests arrive. Tell me about your father.’
He stiffened. ‘Willow.’ A rumble of ominous thunder, his body vibrating with intense emotion.
She laid a hand on his arm. ‘I know. I may be overstepping but just loosen the reins for a little bit. Tell me your happiest memory of him.’
His whole body was one giant mass of tension, ready to snap. She would be caught in that ballistic fallout but for the life of her, Willow couldn’t remove herself. Safety was a weak position to take in the face of something so monumental. So vital.
So she waited.
Slowly, the tension seeped out like wisps of fog dissipating in strengthening sunlight, leaving behind a landscape bearing less desolation and more promises of new beginnings. She hoped.
Staring deep into his drink, his voice was a low rumble. ‘He could make me believe anything. If I woke up one morning and he told me I could fly without wings, I’d have believed him. He had a powerful charisma.’ A clench of anguish shredded her heart. ‘Which was why I always believed we’d escape that hellhole alive.’
‘He may not have, but you did. He made sure of that. So maybe you should honour him with happy memories. A life lived to the fullest?’
He inhaled sharply, and his lips parted, but whatever response he’d intended to give was cut short by the whine of an approaching tender.
The sleek vessel passed by the bow of the yacht, a handful of elegantly dressed men and women gazing excitedly at the lit boat.
His guests had arrived.
For the first hour, Jario ignored her. Well...not entirely.
He escorted her from small group to group long enough to introduce her, then proceeded to conduct his conversation around her as if she didn’t exist, while perversely caring for her by questioning every server who approached with appetisers, almost absent-mindedly offering her tiny platters and bowls of perkadel kentang , lumpia and spicy tom yum soup.
The chef was clearly outdoing himself at the rate of knots, and Jario’s determination to feed her would’ve been touching and amusing if she didn’t feel the undercurrent of his mood.
He was upset with her, she got it. She’d dared to suggest his father might not entirely be on board with his plans for retribution and she’d raked his wound raw. But wasn’t that better than letting it fester the way it’d been? Wasn’t that a way to make him confront it and heal faster?
Faster...because her time was running out?
Willow shook her head and contemplated leaving the deck. Her roiling emotions would probably be better examined in the solitude of her cabin.
As the thought solidified and she turned to put it into action, a man appeared next to her. Nick...something. A Bali-based British entrepreneur.
Around the same age as Jario, he wore a deep, slightly oily tan that suggested he’d been in this part of the world for a while. ‘Not thinking of leaving us already, are you?’ he said with a mini pout she suspected was meant to charm women.
He was handsome in a surface-only way, unlike the brooding man who stood a dozen feet away, staring into his drink while another guest gesticulated frantically to make a point. That man with unfathomable layers she feared she might never get the chance to explore.
‘Only, I need someone to keep me sane until it’s my turn to sing for my supper. Past experience and my place as a lowly millionaire mean that might take a while.’
Willow looked from him to where he nudged his chin at Jario and back again. ‘You do this often?’
‘Chase an eccentric billionaire around the world in hopes of capital funding? Yes, unfortunately,’ he said, mouth quirking with amusement.
‘No, I meant disparage your host to other guests?’ she asked with saccharine sweetness, taking entirely too much pleasure in watching him turn puce and blink in alarm.
‘Well, no, I didn’t mean...’ He gestured at the yacht, then back at her. ‘Then what do you call this, then?’
‘A unique life decision,’ she said with conviction fuelled by burning loyalty. ‘I’ll leave you to train that singing voice.’
She walked away, aware that she’d drawn stares, including Jario’s, which narrowed as she passed him.
Setting down her barely touched champagne, she took the steps farthest away from Jario off the deck. Minutes later she was in her cabin, her heart climbing into her throat when she spotted a missed call from her father.
Hitting redial, she listened to the call ring. And ring. Then click into voice mail.
An unladylike growl tore from her sternum as she tossed the phone away and dragged her fingers through her hair, dislodging a few pins holding up the swept-back style. Her pulse throbbed, the feeling that time was running out escalating. Her phone rang. She snatched it up, absently noting her hand was shaking.
‘Dad?’
A beat of silence. Then, ‘Willow.’
Her heart flipped in her chest, knowing the true test of her decision had arrived. ‘How are you?’ she asked cautiously.
‘How am I?’ He gave a bitter chuckle. ‘I’m not sure. It’s not every day you get a call from your daughter condemning you for something she really knows nothing about.’
Her fingers tightened on the phone. ‘Then tell me. I’ve been asking you for months. Years. Maybe if you’d been forthcoming, I wouldn’t have—’
‘Rushed headlong into enemy camp?’
Her eyes squeezed shut, dread and hopelessness drenching her. ‘It’s true, then?’ She realised then she’d held on to a kernel of hope that this was all a giant misunderstanding.
‘Yes. No.’ A heavy sigh. ‘Willow, it was complicated, okay?’
‘Did you take out insurance for just yourself before the trip to Colombia? And did Jario’s father ask you to save his son?’ It felt like everything in her life hinged on that burning question. ‘And did you refuse?’
The pause was longer this time, his breathing heavier. ‘You and your mother were depending on me. I had to make it home. And the insurance thing, they were Colombian... I thought they wouldn’t need it.’
Knees weakened, she sagged onto the bed. ‘Dad...no...’
‘You can judge me if you want but I tried to get them released when I got back. I just didn’t... Things didn’t work out the way I’d hoped.’ Indignation bristled in his tone, but it died down when he added, ‘I never wanted you to fight my battles for me, but since you’re there...’ He cleared his throat. ‘Is there a chance you can salvage this situation?’
Her heart squeezed tighter, the sliver of shame to be his daughter growing. To be faced with the stark truth of her father’s character. It thickened the lump in her throat, forcing her to stay silent.
‘Willow?’
‘That’s all you care about, isn’t it? How you come out in all of this? Not that your actions shattered a family?’ she muttered numbly.
He swallowed audibly. ‘Look, I can’t change what happened in the past...’ But . ‘Is there a chance he’ll let things go?’ he asked, a mix of hope and fear in his voice.
Willow wasn’t sure why she wasn’t ready to divulge that Jario had agreed to suspend his revenge plans. Because as much as it hurt, she didn’t want her father to think he could get off the hook that easily? That Jario was entirely justified in seeking reparations for his suffering?
‘I don’t know. Maybe you should pick up the phone and ask him yourself. Or better yet, do it in person.’
He inhaled sharply. ‘I see. Well... I’ll think about it.’ He hung up.
Exhaling shakily, she registered that he hadn’t asked how she was, about the possible toll all of this was taking on her. When was the last time he’d simply asked whether she was tired, sad or happy?
Whether she was fed or rested the way Jario had done?
Anger stung her for the moment’s wish that he would’ve done something...anything to change her mind about him. Maybe then she wouldn’t know the acute wrench of realizing there was no hope for them?
‘Did he admit it?’
She jumped and pivoted towards the voice.
Jario stood in the doorway, hands thrust into his pockets, a thick lock of hair falling over his forehead as his eyes burned into hers. God, had he heard her conversation? Her hand gripped the phone as she stood up. ‘Jario. What are you...?’
‘Did he?’ he said through clenched teeth.
He knew she’d been speaking to her father. ‘He said it was complicated. But that he tried...’
Censure blazed in his eyes, right along with a stomach-hollowing disappointment and resignation. ‘And you gave him a free pass, sí ?’
Her skin tightened with shame because she’d been doing that for years. The words to admit that stuck in her throat. ‘I...’
His hand snapped up. ‘No need to create excuses. Dinner is ready. Are you coming?’
She itched to ask whether he’d come down to deliberately catch her out. Examining his face didn’t bring enlightenment. He was even more shuttered now than he’d been before dinner.
‘We need to talk properly. Maybe after dinner?’
He shrugged. ‘I’ll think about it.’
That stung, as he’d probably intended. Still, pride kept her chin up as she returned to the deck with him, where a long table was immaculately laid with tall and short lit candles, silver tableware and crystal glassware.
He went to the top of the table, pulled out the seat at his right hand. Willow couldn’t stop the disarming warmth that bloomed anew in her chest, even as she berated herself for not heeding the danger in swimming in these weighty feelings.
But it’ll be only for a little while, because this thing we’re doing isn’t going to last much longer. Right?
‘Oh...hey, I thought I was over there...’
The loud voice distracted her from her unsettling thoughts. Nick was frowning at his place setting halfway down the table, his slight swaying announcing that he’d imbibed a fair amount.
An annoyed rumble from Jario startled her but when she glanced at him, his expression had settled into suave neutrality.
Easy conversation flowed among the guests, the mouthwatering Balinese dishes, superb wine and the flickers of stars above their heads aiding easy conversation, regrettably interspersed with lewd jokes from Nick mostly aimed at the unfortunate woman next to him.
Jario’s fingers drummed on the table just loud enough to get Nick’s attention as the man leaned obnoxiously closer to the woman. ‘Is there something wrong with your seat, Mr Matthews? You seem to be having problems staying in it. I can have it removed if you wish?’ he drawled with steel in his voice.
The table fell silent, aware that Jario hadn’t suggested replacing said chair.
Nick flushed tomato red, straightened, grabbed his wineglass and gulped down another mouthful. ‘No, you’re all right,’ he mumbled.
‘Muy bien . ’
Conversation resumed a fraction stiltedly, but Jario appeared entirely unconcerned. His glance swung to her, catching the mouth twitch she tried to hide. He slanted her a droll glance as he refilled her wineglass.
‘You were talking to him earlier. Do you find him amusing?’ he murmured.
Bolstered by several sips of wine, she returned his stare. ‘Not particularly. I prefer men with a little more...substance.’
‘Glad to hear it.’
She raised a brow. ‘Is this you metaphorically thumping your chest and pissing on your territory? A little primitive for me but by all means, you do you.’
His nostrils flared but her heart fluttered to see a different heat filling his eyes. She knew she was fooling herself by believing the episode in her cabin had been forgotten. ‘I always do, pequena .’
She hated that his response left her on a knife’s edge for the rest of the evening. Hated that even though the atmosphere between them remained charged, his hand on her waist, her hip, in the small of her back, smoothing a strand of hair behind her ear before his fingers drifted briefly over the pulse racing at her throat, also kept her breathless and yearning.
That mood prevailed as he called an end to the dinner at midnight. The last guest was barely off the deck when he wrapped his hand around her wrist and tugged her firmly towards the steps.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Taking your advice. What was it you said— you do you ?’
Heat arrowed between her legs, but she resisted his pull and disentangled herself from his hold, immediately missing his heat when he stepped back. ‘You know what I meant. You’re deliberately twisting it to suit your purposes.’
He shrugged. ‘I’m still taking you to bed. Now.’
She glanced at his outreached hand. The resolution etched on his face. ‘We need to talk about what you heard. And a hell of a lot more. You can’t use sex to shut me up every time you don’t like something I say.’
His hand remained extended, one eyebrow rising to join the sheer challenge brimming from him. ‘Can’t I?’
As she kicked herself for the deep yearning that racked her body, for the traitorous gasp that left her lips when he swung her into his arms, she vowed to wean herself off the insanity.
Please, God. Soon .
But , she amended as her arms curved around his neck and her fingers spiked into his hair, not tonight.
Three soul-shaking hours later, their bodies slicked with sweat, she gazed into his fierce blue eyes. He’d taken her with an edge that’d left her breathless, but she’d felt his bewilderment, as if he was stunned by what was unfolding between them. Perhaps his inability to resist it?
Her breath locked in her lungs now as he raised himself onto his elbows over her.
‘I should take more victory in this beyond the sublime pleasure of being inside you. Instead, I crave your pleasure.’ His jaw tightened. ‘Even above mine.’
The gruff, stirring admission lassoed several strings around her heart. Even from the first, she’d known he wasn’t a man who readily admitted to being bested, either by the demons that kept him awake in the night, or the fact that something had driven him from his stone-and-concrete home into a floating palace. Or something as base as carnal pleasure.
Knew that this declaration was just as important as an emotional one.
She framed his face in hands that trembled, daring to look into his pain. To attempt to absorb some of it into herself. ‘Don’t you see why you can’t? Is accepting that you’re a good man so hard?’
He sucked in a long breath. ‘I’m not a good man. My ultimate goal hasn’t altered. Don’t be fooled into thinking otherwise.’
She wanted to believe strongly enough to tell him that it was only a matter of time before it did. But she knew his formidable willpower. Chemistry may have applied the brakes on his intentions but it was only temporary. She couldn’t stay on his yacht, sharing his bed forever. Her hand drifted down his face and throat, over his clavicle to rest on the strong, steady, thumping heart. ‘I wouldn’t dare. That will have entirely come from here.’
She expected another scoffing remark or at the very least a brusque denial. Instead, a shaft of bleakness swept across his face. ‘You put too much store in an organ that malfunctions, tesoro .’
‘It sounds perfectly fine to me. All you have to do is listen to it.’