Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Wade
Le Jardin sat at the edge of the jungle like a jewel someone had dropped and forgotten to retrieve, made from whitewashed stone and colonial architecture.
It was where presidents dined in private rooms and deals worth billions were sealed with handshakes.
I arrived exactly on time and watched the Rolls drive aside. Thomas had driven, silent and efficient as always, and would wait in the car until I was ready to move to the next location. Smooth, seamless, with no room for error.
The ma?tre d' recognized me before I gave my name, which was expected. Thomas ensured the right people knew Wade Easton would be dining at Le Jardin, leaving the rest to the natural pull of my reputation.
Power was ninety percent perception and ten percent follow-through, and I'd perfected both decades ago.
"Mr. Easton." He didn't bow, but it was close. "Minister Moreau is waiting in the Orchid Room. This way, please."
I followed him through the main dining area, aware of the eyes that tracked my movement. Not everyone knew who I was, but enough did. Old money had a particular gravity to it, pulling attention whether you wanted it to or not.
The Orchid Room was private, a space where conversations stayed buried. Minister Moreau stood when I entered. He was in his late fifties, distinguished from years of wielding power, with sharp eyes that missed nothing and a smile that promised exactly what he wanted it to.
"Wade." He extended his hand, and I took it. Firm grip, eye contact, the dance of powerful men acknowledging each other's weight in the world. "Thank you for making the time."
“Reyes.” I used his name deliberately, the casualty that signaled we were operating on equal footing. "I appreciate you accommodating my schedule."
We settled into our chairs, and I accepted the menu I wouldn't read. The sommelier appeared with a wine I hadn't ordered, a 1982 Bordeaux. Reyes' choice, which showed me he'd done his research, knew I appreciated quality and wouldn't be impressed by the price tag alone.
"To new friendships.” Reyes raised his glass.
"And old understandings." I met the toast and let the wine coat my tongue. Exceptional, as expected.
We ordered; I chose the tuna, and he chose the lamb, and we settled into conversation.
I'd come to dinner tonight to establish myself in the island's power structure.
To ensure the right people understood I was here, that I operated with respect for local hierarchies, and that crossing me would be exponentially more expensive than accommodating me.
"I hear you're planning an extended stay," Reyes said, cutting into his lamb with precision. “Months?"
"Possibly longer." I watched him process, saw the calculation behind his eyes. "My son is taking over the empire soon. I'm finding myself with time I haven't had in decades."
"Retirement." He said it carefully, testing how I'd react.
"Semi-retirement." I smiled, the expression designed to put him at ease while revealing nothing. "I'm not quite ready to spend my days fishing and drinking rum, but I'm ready to let the next generation carry the weight."
"Your son Jax, yes?" Reyes had done his homework. "I understand congratulations are in order. You have daughters-in-law, a grandchild.”
"Two grandchildren now, actually." I felt that strange mixture of pride and disbelief that came every time I acknowledged it. "My daughter Jovie has a seven-year-old. Between the two of them, I'm discovering what it means to build something that outlasts you."
"Children change a lot.” Reyes's tone carried weight, carefully threading through the words. "They make you think about legacy. About what matters."
"They do." I took another sip of wine and let the conversation carry on. This was the art of knowing when to push and when to let silence do the work. "Which is part of why I'm here. I've spent decades building an empire. Now I want to understand what comes after empire-building."
"And you think you'll find that answer on my island?" Something amused flickered in his expression.
"I think I'll find something." I let the honesty stand. "I'm not sure what yet, but I've learned to trust my instincts, and my instincts said this was the right place to look."
We talked business after that—the Easton holdings, the various enterprises that spanned continents and industries.
Reyes was sharp, asking questions that demonstrated a clear understanding rather than mere curiosity.
He didn't waste time pretending to be impressed when he was actually assessing whether I was a threat or an asset.
"The island has resources," he said eventually, gesturing with his wine glass. "Natural beauty, strategic location, a government that understands the value of discretion. Men like you appreciate discretion."
"I do." I met his gaze directly. "I'm here to enjoy what you've built, not to disrupt it. I have no interest in politics or territory. I simply want a place where I can exist without the pressure of the empire I've created."
"And if you need something? Resources, connections, problems made to disappear?" The question was delicate but direct.
“I’ll inquire if I must.” I smiled, fake. "I believe in respecting local power structures. It's better for everyone when the hierarchy is clear."
Reyes relaxed incrementally, his shoulders dropping a fraction. I'd said exactly what he needed to hear—that I wasn't here to challenge him, that I understood how the game was played, that mutual benefit was more valuable than territorial disputes.
"Then welcome to the island, Wade." He raised his glass again. "I think you'll find we can be very accommodating to men who play by the rules."
"I'm counting on it." The wine was excellent, and I savored it.
These were the connections I was building, the safety net I was weaving around myself.
This was how you operated in unfamiliar territory—you established relationships with people who mattered, you demonstrated respect, and you made yourself valuable enough that protecting you became everyone's best interest.
We finished dinner with talk of investments and opportunities, surface-level business that would give Reyes plausible deniability if he ever needed it. He paid the bill, obscene as expected, and we parted with handshakes and empty promises to meet again soon.
Thomas was waiting in the Rolls, and I slid into the backseat with the familiar sense of having accomplished what I'd set out to do. Another connection secured, another layer of protection established, another piece of life clicked into place.
"Meridian, sir?" Thomas's voice carried through the partition.
I wasn’t sure why I didn’t say yes immediately.
I always moved smoothly from business to pleasure, compartmentalizing my life into neat sections that never bled into each other.
Dinner with powerful men, drinks with beautiful women.
Everyone got what they wanted, everything stayed surface-level and safe.
But I hesitated.
"Give me a minute." I stared out the tinted window at Le Jardin's lot, at the couples walking to their cars, at the life happening around me that I was perpetually adjacent to but never quite part of.
Three supermodels were waiting at Meridian—women who were objectively stunning, who'd be excellent company, who'd look appropriate on my arm, and forget me the moment something more interesting came along.
The evening was already scripted. I'd be charming and generous, and they'd be beautiful and willing. We'd drink expensive champagne and pretend the transaction was something more than exactly what it was.
Then tomorrow, I'd wake up in the same place I'd been yesterday. Successful, powerful, and utterly alone in the ways that mattered.
I thought about Jax and Estelle. About the way my son looked at his wife like she'd reached inside his chest and wrapped her hand around his heart. About how he'd gone from the man who managed his rotation to someone who lived for one woman and the child she'd brought with her.
About how that transformation hadn't diminished him—it had focused him. Made him more of who he was supposed to be.
I thought about Connor and Adrian, my adopted sons who’d also fallen just as hard. It happened one after another, like they'd been waiting their whole lives for permission to need something beyond power and control.
And I thought about myself. Forty-seven years old, sitting in a Rolls-Royce on a Caribbean island, with more money than I could spend in ten lifetimes, with absolutely no idea what I actually wanted it for anymore.
The models weren't what I needed. I'd known that when I agreed to meet them, but I'd gone through the motions anyway because that's what Wade Easton did.
Except I wasn't pleased. I hadn't been for longer than I wanted to admit.
What I wanted, what I'd spent years not quite letting myself acknowledge, was someone real, someone mine. Someone who'd make me want to rewrite every pattern I'd perfected over decades because the pattern suddenly looked empty compared to what we could build together.
The problem was, I had no idea where to find her. Or if she even existed.
"Sir?" Thomas's voice was patient. He'd learn to recognize when I was working through something.
I could still cancel. I could tell Thomas to take me back to the estate, that I'd changed my mind about the models. I could spend the evening alone with my scotch and my view of the ocean, trying to figure out what the hollowness in my chest actually meant.
Or I could go to Meridian, follow the script I'd written years ago, play the role I'd perfected, and pretend that going through the motions was the same as actually living.
"Meridian," I said finally, making the decision even though everything in me said it was the wrong one. "Let's go."
The Rolls pulled onto the coastal road, and I watched the jungle blur past the tinted windows. Somewhere in there, life was happening—messy and real. Somewhere in there, people were falling in love and breaking apart, figuring out how to be human with each other.
The ocean appeared in glimpses between the trees, dark and infinite under the night sky.
I thought about the way the water just kept moving regardless of who was watching, about how the tide came in and went out with perfect reliability while I sat in my expensive car, trying to figure out why nothing felt like enough anymore.