Chapter 1
1
R AIN
The breeze rolls off the ocean, sweeps over my feet, and makes the wind chimes sing across the terrace while the palmettos rustle in the background.
Eyes closed, I stretch an arm out, tap the mattress behind me, and grab a sheet to cover myself before trying to fall asleep again.
The seagulls have a different plan, though, their dissonant chorus making it impossible for me to sleep.
I struggle for a moment before rolling to my back, sighing with frustration.
What can I say?
That’s my luck.
I stay like that for a few good moments––sprawled on my back, eyes shut, nostrils flaring, the salty air flowing into my lungs.
The smell of fresh coffee drifting from the kitchen jolts me into awareness even more, fueling the swarm of nagging thoughts swirling in my head.
He didn’t sleep here last night.
And he hasn’t touched me since that night.
None of them have.
He must have asked them not to touch me.
He makes the calls.
The ‘Night of the Kings’ experience would’ve never happened had he not given them the green light.
It was a test, perhaps.
Or maybe, he wanted to prove a point. Who knows?
Whatever it was, it brought us here.
I’m lying in his bed, alone, surrounded by silence while he is... Who knows where?
I don’t know where his friends are, either.
All I know is that today is our last day on the island.
I wish I could say I can’t wait to go back to my old life. Or that what happened these past few days has cleared things up for me.
If anything, it has complicated everything.
The thought that we’ll go separate ways, trying to forget about each other, gives me a great deal of sadness.
I open my eyes and push up on my elbows.
Wrestling with an odd feeling, I train my gaze on the water and soak in the panoramic view.
Shimmering sand lines the shore.
The place is beautiful. The morning is perfect.
It’s windy, and the sky is mostly clear, a few clouds speeding across, pushed by the breeze.
I could write and live in a place like this.
A small house would be enough for me.
My life would be perfect if I had the ocean nearby and the seagulls, despite how annoying they can be at times.
I can see myself lounging in a wicker chair on the porch, sipping margaritas, and plotting new stories.
Hmm…
Smiling, I indulge in that fantasy before pushing the image back and looking around.
The house is eerily quiet for this time of day.
The staff would normally be in the kitchen, preparing the food, or on the patio, setting the breakfast table.
James and his friends would be up by now, too, working out, swimming in the ocean, or jogging.
Their voices would resonate in the air, and James would surely be on the phone, talking about his business dealings with some people.
Something doesn’t feel right.
I roll over and crawl across the bed before lifting my phone from the nightstand and flipping it over.
It’s almost ten.
Sitting upright, I shift my eyes to the beach and look for them.
The shore is deserted.
I clamber out of bed, wrap the sheet around my chest, take the stairs down, and glance around.
The water ripples in the pool, the vegetation swaying in the wind.
I walk onto the sandy beach, shielding my eyes from the sun while looking down the beach again.
No trace of them.
Intrigued, I spin around and make the trip back. Sunk in thought, I enter the house and stroll across the vast rooms.
All I’m greeted with is an empty place.
Grappling with an unsettling feeling, I keep searching for them, although it feels like I’m the only one here.
There are no signs of people, and time stood still, it seems.
The place looks like no memories have been created here.
The bedroom doors are wide open, and the beds are made and untouched as if no one has slept in them for days or ever.
I check the walk-in closets, and they’re empty too.
I dash back to my bedroom, toss the sheet on the bed, pick up my underwear, shorts, and a T-shirt, and get dressed in a hurry.
The smell of coffee wafts through the house again, and I turn to stone.
A light bulb just went off in my head.
I swivel my head and glance over my shoulder.
The kitchen.
They must be having breakfast.
Their things must be already packed, and a yacht or a plane must be waiting for us somewhere nearby.
I veer toward the other side of the house, scanning the terrace while pacing across the place.
Except for the luscious plants, there is nothing on the patio, either.
Where are they?
I push through the kitchen door.
A pot of fresh coffee sits on the counter, and a round table awaits me not far from the patio doors.
The food––hard-boiled eggs, a cheese platter, and ripe papaya, peeled, de-seeded, and cut into cubes––looks delicious and is ready to eat.
I’m hungry.
I spot a platter of pastries and a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade as well.
Turned to stone, I stare at the table, conflicted thoughts spinning in my head.
He couldn’t possibly do that. He didn’t just do that.
I have a hard time moving my feet before I finally find the strength to spin around and dart back to my room where I search for my phone.
I call him. No answer.
I call Ed and Lex. Neither of them answers.
I text him, although I expect nothing from him at this point.
Me: James?
The minutes feel like strings of painful hours.
“Miss?”
A soft voice floats in the air.
I flick my eyes in that direction.
A tanned woman with a mane of dark hair and a floral print dress flashes a bright smile.
“I’m sorry. I was on the other side of the house, watering the plants. That’s why I didn’t see you. The food is ready,” she says, reading my eyes briefly. “And Lenny is waiting for you.”
“Who is Lenny?”
“The man who’ll take you back to land and put you on a plane.”
“Plane?”
“Yes. A private jet is waiting for you.”
My eyes widen in surprise.
“Me? Only me?”
She nods.
Her smile falters while she struggles to make sense of my puzzled expression as my thoughts unravel.
“Where, um... Where are the other guests?”
She feels at ease again as I begin to make sense to her.
“They left.”
“When?” I ask in a scratchy voice.
Smiling, she makes herself busy with my bed, fluffing up the pillows and smoothing the covers.
“Early morning,” she says.
“Why?”
She flicks her eyes to me.
It’s a dumb question––I’m aware of that––and she doesn’t know the answer, but I had to give it a try.
“Why, um... Why didn’t I leave with them?” I press further, realizing I’m not getting anywhere.
Concern beams in her eyes.
“I don’t know, Miss. I can only assume it was Mr. Sexton’s decision.”
My eyebrows tilt up.
“It was?”
“Yes. Lenny might know more about that. He had been tasked with taking you back.”
I clear my throat.
“Where is he?”
She points to a tall man handling a water hose on the other side of the pool.
“Thank you,” I say.
She smiles warmly in response before I stifle my mixed feelings and walk straight to him.
“Lenny?”
The man pivots to me, a friendly grin glinting in his eyes. Something tells me he’s the woman’s husband.
“Good afternoon, Miss. I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay.”
I flash a polite smile.
“Yes, I have.”
“Just let me know when you’re ready to leave,” he says. “The plane is on standby.”
I’d find this hilarious in different circumstances, but now it doesn’t make me smile. Quite the opposite.
So let’s see if I got this right.
James has a plane on standby for me, yet he’s abandoned me on an island without an explanation?
Struggling to make sense of this, I take a long breath and try to calm down.
The man reads my expression, his eyes heavy with concern.
I’ll figure this out later because I must leave now. I don’t want to spend another second on this island.
“Is there any other way you can get me home? I don’t want to use Mr. Sexton’s plane.”
The man’s eyes slant down, disappointment flashing through his gaze.
“I’m afraid not, Miss. His instructions are very clear. He wants to make sure you get home safe.”
“What if you get me back to land, and I check into a hotel and book my flight home instead of following his plans?”
The corners of his mouth point down with distress.
“You can do anything you want, Miss… After you reach your residence in New York. As long as you are on Mr. Sexton's property, and I’m his employee, I must follow his instructions, or I’ll lose my job.”
He pauses while I ponder.
Spotting an opportunity to compel me, he speaks again.
“You wouldn’t want me to lose my job, would you?” he asks softly.
Ughh.
He got me.
“Of course, I wouldn’t. I’ll be ready in less than an hour,” I say, irritated, starting to turn around.
A few seconds pass before his words sink in, and I twirl back to him.
“Wait.”
The man freezes.
“Yes?”
“You said his property.”
He nods.
“Did you mean this is his island?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“I thought he rented it.”
He looks at me like a swarm of bugs just landed on my face.
He slowly shakes his head.
“No. This is his island,” he says, somewhat embarrassed that he can’t give an answer to my satisfaction.
“And the yacht? Is that his property too?”
He tips his chin down and freezes in that position, waiting for me to utter more silly questions.
“Everything,” he murmurs to remove any doubt.
Sucking in a short breath, I square my shoulders.
“Okay, then. I’ll see you in a bit,” I mutter, wrestling with anger.
Straightening, he gives me another slow nod before I turn around and stride across the house.
Moments later, I enter my bedroom. My clothes are neatly packed, my traveling bags sitting on the side.
I pick up my phone.
To the first unanswered message, I add another one.
Me: Is that it?
Me: Did you and your friends just vanish into thin air?
I wait for a few moments. About ten seconds, and then I type another message.
Me: I guess... yes.
Me: You know what...?
I pause and ponder.
Me: Go fuck yourself, James Sexton. I don’t need you or your fucking friends.
I barely finish typing that out and hurl my phone across the room. It bounces off the wall and lands on the floor.
My fists sink into the fluffed-up pillows, my rage soaring.
I punch the hell out of them before burying my face in one of them and screaming as hard as I can, nearly suffocating myself.
Rushed footsteps echo across the house, making me jerk upright and shoot my gaze to the door.
Hastily, I run my hands through my hair when the housekeeper fills the doorway.
Concern sits on her face.
“Are you okay, Miss?”
Her eyes fly to the crown of my head.
Embarrassed, I rake my fingers through my hair again, taming a couple of stray strands.
“Yes,” I say, feigning a smile.
She shifts her gaze to the bed.
“Um... I’m sorry. I’ll fix it. I’ll be ready in a few minutes,” I say, flicking my hand dismissively.
The woman nods and walks away.
A long sigh of frustration leaves my lips as I crash back onto the bed.