Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Owen
“No way,” Faye says as we race toward a private island at an excessively fast speed. “Is that it?”
As expected, the cottage is hardly a cottage.
It’s more of a compound with a sprawling main house made of the finest stone, brick, and wood the world has to offer, a boathouse that fits four large boats, a massive in-ground pool, several docks, and at least three private beaches from what I can see.
The island itself is large enough for several cottages, but Edward Baines has claimed it all for himself. Besides the local raccoons, squirrels, and birds in the thick forested land, there are no neighbors in sight.
Tristan slows the engine and glides over to the main dock where a large man is waiting with a smile on his face and his hands on his hips.
Edward Baines.
He looks right at home on this luxurious private island with his white linen shirt fluttering in the breeze, a sparkling watch shining on his wrist, and that winning smile that I’m sure has seduced countless men and women, both in the boardroom and in the bedroom.
I can feel his confidence from here. A man who believes the world owes him everything and is hellbent on collecting it all.
He has a nice smile with a full head of hair—black on top with gray on the sides. His build is wiry and athletic. Most likely, a man who swims, jogs, and kayaks before his carefully prepared breakfast consisting of poached eggs and grilled asparagus.
A man who has it all figured out, it appears.
“There he is!” Edward says, opening his arms as the boat lightly bumps into the dock. “The elusive Mr. Owen Lavoie.”
Tristan loops the rope around the cleat as his father steps closer.
“Hello, Mr. Baines,” I say, standing up and offering my hand.
He slaps his hand into mine, but instead of shaking it like I’m expecting, he yanks me out of the boat and pulls me into his hard body for a hug. The scent of sandalwood fills my nose.
“I’ve been so looking forward to this,” he says, squeezing me so hard I whimper. “And you brought your lovely new wife. Excellent.”
He releases me from his iron grip as I turn to see Faye stepping off the boat. She’s holding Tristan’s hand, her neck and cheeks bright red—no doubt from being thrust into this awkward situation.
“Thank you,” she says with a shy smile and a sharp intake of breath.
“Anytime,” Tristan says in a low voice, his eyes locked on her to make sure she’s getting off the boat safely.
“Oh!” Faye says, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips. “My bag.”
She reaches into the boat and turns back to look at Tristan as she grabs it. Apparently, she’s more nervous about this weekend than I initially thought. She’s so flustered that she grabs the bag by the front and it unzips as she picks it up. Several items plunge into the lake.
Tristan doesn’t hesitate. It’s a good thing he’s in his bathing suit because he dives into the water and comes up with the soaked items—a ruined book, a hair brush, and a dripping sweater.
“Thank you so much,” Faye says as Tristan pulls himself out of the water onto the dock. “I’m so sorry, you got all… wet.”
She swallows hard as she looks at the water dripping down his stomach, no doubt feeling awful for the trouble she caused.
“And you must be Scarlett,” Edward says, stepping up to Faye and swallowing her in a hug. “Welcome to our home away from home.”
“It’s beautiful,” she says when she’s released. “Thank you for having us.”
“I see you’ve met my son, Tristan,” Edward says, smacking a big hand on his shoulder. Tristan slithers away from his grasp and grabs our bags out of the boat.
“I’m gonna take a shower,” he mutters as he carries them to the house.
Two women pass him, walking down the long dock.
The older, taller one must be Edward’s second wife, Cassandra.
She’s wearing a loose white cover-up that billows around her as she walks.
The material is thin and does nothing to cover the turquoise bikini she’s wearing underneath.
With large sunglasses, dark hair, and red lipstick, she is conventionally attractive and remarkably younger than her husband—probably by at least fifteen years.
She lowers her dark sunglasses and bites her bottom lip as she looks me over.
Meanwhile, the girl beside her—most likely Edward’s daughter—is looking at me in shock.
She looks to be in her early twenties with tattoo sleeves on each arm, a nose ring, and sunglasses tucked on her head—buried in her bright pink hair that’s swirling in the wind.
She’s wearing jean shorts, a tank top, and running shoes that suddenly stop moving.
With a sharp glare, she turns around and marches back into the house.
“Welcome, you two,” Cassandra says as she arrives, air kissing the sides of my cheeks. She does the same to Faye. “First time on a private island?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been on an island, period,” Faye says, looking around in awe.
“Technically, all landmasses qualify as islands in the broader geographical sense,” I say. “North America included.”
Everyone looks at me.
“But no,” I say, swallowing hard. “I have not been on a private island before.”
“Well, we’re happy to host your first time!” Edward says, putting his arm around my shoulders. I fight the urge to peel it off. “Come. We’ll show you around and get to know each other in the process.”
He keeps that arm on my shoulders as he guides me to the house. Faye and Cassandra fall in step behind us, chatting easily. I wish Faye were up here with me to help facilitate the conversation. She’s considerably more adept at social interaction than I am.
“I’ve met your brothers a few times at various parties and charity functions,” he says as we walk. “Great guys, but I’ve been curious about you.”
“I’m usually working in my lab,” I say. “My brothers are the face of the company.”
“Yes, but you’re the heart,” he says, tapping my chest with his big hand. “Without you, Temporary Ink wouldn’t exist. It’s quite the impressive product you created.”
Edward stops at the door and turns to the ladies behind us. “Cassandra, why don’t you give Scarlett a tour of the house and get her set up in their room? I’d like to chat with Owen alone for a bit.”
My stomach drops as I look at Faye. I wasn’t expecting to be alone with him. Not so soon anyway. I want to make an excuse for why I have to stay by her side, but I can’t think of anything.
“Great idea,” Cassandra says, smiling at us both. “You two don’t get into too much trouble now.”
Before I can open my mouth to protest, the two women disappear into the house. I look to Faye but she’s already through the door. I follow Edward to the patio, feeling—for reasons I cannot immediately identify—somewhat less prepared and confident than I was thirty seconds ago.
“Have a seat,” he says, pulling out a chair. I reluctantly sit down and glance at the view of the lake as he strolls over to the outside bar.
“When I first heard about Temporary Ink,” he says, searching through the bottles behind the bar, “I knew I wanted to be involved.”
My chest tightens as he walks over with two short glasses and a crystal carafe filled with dark liquid. He places the glasses on the table and fills them generously.
“Does this have alcohol in it?” I ask as he slides one of the glasses in front of me. It smells terrible.
“It’s scotch,” he says with a chuckle. “A tattoo that evaporates into thin air? Now that’s a product the world needs.”
He wanders back to the bar, opens a wooden box, and picks out two long, thick cigars. My hands tighten on the armrests as a fluttering feeling fills my stomach. Am I expected to smoke that? I’ve never smoked anything in my life.
“Your product is a gift to humanity,” he says, offering me the cigar.
My first instinct is to refuse, but then I think of Jason and Ryan and all of their hopes and plans and dreams relying on me pulling this weekend off, and I take the cigar. I spin it in my hand, wondering what to do with this foreign object.
“Temporary Ink is more than a gimmick or a fun time,” he continues, sitting across from me. “It’s a cure for bad decisions.”
I remember Ryan mentioning something about having to cut the tip off cigars before you light them. I don’t see a knife on the table, so I just bite off the tip and spit it into the grass.
Edward stares at me for a long moment, seemingly forgetting what he’s talking about.
He shakes out of it pretty quickly and uses a snapping thing in his hand to slice off the tip of his cigar.
He puts the cigar to his mouth, lights it, and then slides the lighter across the table while he puffs a thick cloud of smoke into the air.
I pick it up, hesitating.
“Look at my daughter, Amber,” he says, leaning forward while speaking in a low voice. “Those arms were so beautiful. I still remember her as a child, so innocent and pure, and now look at her. Those beautiful arms tarnished by hideous Japanese cartoons.”
His shoulders slump down as he looks at his drink.
“It’s too late for her. Unfortunately, she used permanent ink, but all those other children…
To see that kind of bad judgment redeemed.
To see what were once permanent mistakes evaporate and disappear after three years…
To see the youth be given a second chance… It moves me.”
He raises his drink and it takes me a few seconds to realize he wants to clink glasses. I touch his glass with mine and watch him take a sip.
I put it off as long as I can, but I have to take a sip. Gross. It’s worse than I imagined. I try to keep a straight face as I swallow it down, but I can tell by Edward’s furrowed brow as he watches me that I am unsuccessful.
“Light up,” he says, glancing at the unlit cigar in my hand. “We’re on vacation. You’re allowed.”
He’s watching me closely. I have no choice.
I shift in my seat and clear my throat as I put the cigar to my lips and light the other end. One inhale and I burst into coughs. Smoke burns my eyes, it scorches my nostrils, it sears my throat. People do this voluntarily?! Why?