[Invitation to Eden 24.0] How to Tempt a Tycoon (28 page)

I
come out of sleep gradually, vaguely aware of a soft caress against my cheek. I reach for the hand that is stroking my skin, only to find it’s not a person but the breeze from the open window. My eyes adjust to the light as I stare at the billowing drapes that open up onto the patio and the infinity pool beyond.

I am alone.

I am not here with Christophe and I am not here with Chase. I guess I’ve made my decision and to be honest, it feels right. Though Christophe is a fascinating man and I’d normally jump at the chance to spend more time with him, to learn the things he’s offering to teach me, something doesn’t feel right between us, like the timing isn’t right. It’s hard to explain.

As for Chase, I can’t face him, can’t deal with the expectations he has of me. Not now. Maybe not ever. Though seeing him felt right for a few wonderful moments, it also felt horribly wrong.

I stretch, my back cracking in the process. Wow. I haven’t felt so rested in a long time. I flip the rumpled duvet off my body and, finding my bags just inside the door, I pull out the beachiest thing I own, capris and a tank top, and take my clothes into the bathroom to shower and dress. The shower is exquisite, and I’m sure I spend at least thirty minutes inside, though it’s hard to tell because I lose all track of time as I stand under the rain showerhead.

After dressing I lean into the vanity to apply my makeup. I’m just finishing up my mascara when I hear a knock on the door. I go out to the foyer and am just about to open the door when I stop. A strange tickly sensation teases the inside of my tummy. Weird. I reach for the door knob but pause as if I’m going to try the door and it’ll be locked.

The sound of knocking comes again and my hesitation evaporates. I open the door and Andre, the concierge, is standing on the other side.

“Good morning, Ms. Savage. I wanted to let you know that your flight is scheduled for one pm. I can take you now if you want.”

“I’m leaving?”

“Yes. That is your wish, is it not?”

I rub my hand up and down my face. “I guess so.”

“You don’t sound sure.” He motions to the villa behind me. “You’re welcome to stay. The villa’s booked for a week.”

I glance over my shoulder. It is a lovely place but...much too big for just me. I shut my eyes and lean against the wall, considering the implication of my decision. Is this right? Is leaving both Chase and Christophe the right thing to do? I focus on my breath and realize how easily the air fills my lungs, how light I feel.

“Ms. Savage?”

I open my eyes. “Come back in fifteen minutes. I’ll be ready then.”

“Of course ”

I go back to the room. Packing my bags takes no time at all. I wheel them to the front door and then go to sit by the infinity pool. I kick off my sandals and slip my feet into the cool water. For some reason, I find myself thinking not of Chase or of Christophe, but of the reporter, Noelle, and her leading questions about my love life.

“
So, would it be correct to say you’ve got a lover in every port?”

What was my reply? I hear the words as if they’re spoken beside me, not inside my head.
“Believe me, there are times when choosing to be with no one is the best option.”

That is definitely the case in this scenario. Both Chase and Christophe want things from me that I’m not prepared to give. With Chase, I’m sure we’d be reliving our past, which is impossible because the past is something you can’t change. With Christophe there’s a connection. I can’t deny it, but I feel like it’s something that represents a future I’m not ready for. I might never be ready for.

No. The best option for me is to choose today and only to be with someone if I’m sure. Besides, I’m totally fine without a man. Men do not define me. And as soon as I let them try, I lose myself.

This was one of those situations. I felt on the verge of losing myself if I chose to stay with Christophe or Chase.

Lifting my face to the sun, I let the warm rays trickle across my skin and down into my soul. I’m warmed and rejuvenated by my decision, relieved. After enjoying the sun for a few more minutes, I get up and carry my sandals to the front garden where I sit on a bench in the shade, eating an apple I grabbed from the fruit bowl, waiting for Andre to take me to the plane.

The cart travels more quickly on the return trip to the dock and we ride in silence. During the ride, I take everything in, still wondering how this island accomplished all the strange things that happened, changing like a chameleon, making me feel trapped, showing me a temple one moment and a hut the next. The empty beaches, the strange feeling of always being watched... right now it looks so normal, like any other exclusive tropical resort. But the
feeling
here is anything but normal and I can’t seem to keep my eyes off the castle and the way the white stone shimmers in the heat like a mirage.

Is that what this all has been? A mirage?

I honestly don’t know.

I guess it doesn’t really matter.

The plane and the pilot are waiting at the end of the dock, as is a small charter boat. Andre drops me off and helps to load my bags into the hold of the plane.

“All the best to you, Ms. Savage,” he says.

“Thank you, Andre.” I unclasp the bracelet key and hand it back to him.

As he leaves, a party of people walk down the dock toward me carrying scuba gear. Right away I recognize one of the individuals moving this way. Christophe is wearing a wetsuit, only pulled up to the waist, the top hanging loose about his hips.

He says something to the others—two women and a man—all dressed similarly, who climb on board the boat while he comes over to me.

I shade my eyes with my hand as I look at him. “Hi Christophe.”

“Tessa.” I expect him to be cold, or rude but I swear his smile is genuine.

I clear my throat. “You’re going diving, I see?”

He nods. “And you’re leaving.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out this time.”

“Me too.”

We stand there for a few seconds, staring at one another, and I have this bizarre, unnamed feeling as my gaze moves past him to the dive boat tied up to the dock.

“Christophe?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t dive by yourself. Make sure you stay with someone.”

He regards me strangely. I think he’s going to ask me why, but he doesn’t. He nods and says, “Okay.”

It’s weird. Now that I’m here, now that I’m seeing him outside of the villa, I’m totally having second thoughts about leaving. That is until one of the woman, a dark-skinned beauty with curves in all the right places, calls, “Christophe? We’re ready to go.”

“One moment.”

He turns back to me, reaches for me and then stops himself.

Is it weird that I wish he wouldn’t have stopped? “You’d better go.”

“You too.”

“Goodbye, then.”

He slowly shakes his head, a secretive smile on his face. “Non. Not goodbye. Until we meet again.”

***

S
o, after the two hour flight, I arrive in Miami and go to the departures board. My next job isn’t for another few weeks and I have nowhere to be, nowhere to go. This happens occasionally and I play a little game. It’s called ‘Take the next flight out’ game. I’ve had some wild and wonderful experiences playing the game, ending up in the most interesting locations and meeting some of the most remarkable people.

Seems like it’s a good idea to play the game today. The next scheduled flight that I have any chance of making is San Diego. I go up to the nearest ticketing agent and book it; there ‘are almost always seats available in first class. The next thing I know, we’re boarding and I’m on my way to San Diego. There’s a travel magazine in the pocket in front of me and I spend part of the flight reading it, planning how I’m going to spend the next couple of weeks.

After collecting my bags off the carousel, I take my phone out to book my stay and see there are a bunch of messages. It’s the first time my phone has worked since before going to Eden.

My stomach twinges when I see one from Chase. The old Tessa would have ignored it. She would have deleted it. But the new me doesn’t do those kinds of things. She faces things head on, including her ex-husband.

I call and he answers on the first ring as if he was waiting for my call.

“Hey Chase,” I say. I can hear the apologetic note to my voice. “How’s Eden?”

“Who’s Eden?”

“The island. The resort.”

“What are you talking about?”

What kind of game is he playing. “You know, the island. The invitation? Aren’t you there?”

There’s a long pause.

“Chase?”

“I didn’t go to the island. I mean, I got your invitation but...” I can hear his exhalation and I close my eyes, picturing him running his hand through his overlong hair.

“B-but.” How can this be? I just saw him. Why would he lie about something like this?

It’s not a lie. It’s the island.

I fall against the nearest wall as Chase keeps talking in my ear. “Do you know how long I waited for something like that from you?”

“Yes—”

“I couldn’t wait anymore. I’m sorry I didn’t meet you. I was going to, so I could tell you face to face, but...” His words end on an exhalation.

“Tell me what?” I ask, the phrase ‘someone walked over my grave’ going through my mind as a burst of cold air—probably air conditioning—tickles the top of my scalp. “Chase? What’s going on?”

“I couldn’t wait for you anymore. I’ve moved on.”

The hand of fate—the fate I’d chosen—squeezes even tighter around my throat. “Moved on?”

“Her name’s Shay.”

Why is it so hard to breathe? “I see,” I barely manage to say.

“I’m sorry.”

I nod, unable to form words as salty tears slide down my cheek and pool in the corner of my lips.

“It’s over, Tess. We both know it is.”

“Is it?” I laugh, not because the words are funny but because it is the exact phrase that Chase has said to me countless times over the past seven years.

He’s silent. Finally, in a gruff voice, he says, “If you’d sent that invitation six months ago, things would have been different.”

“I understand,” I say quickly, swiping the tears from my face.

“I can’t do this anymore. It fucking hurts too much.”

“I know.”

A little girl walks past me, staring up at me with concern etched in her tiny features. She waves, a hesitant, shy gesture that seems to come from some innate sense of empathy. She reminds me of someone and a sense of déjà vu washes over me. My lips quiver into a smile before I turn to walk toward the doors.

“I wish...” My words trail off because I’m not exactly sure what it is I wish. “I only ever wanted you to be happy.”

“Same for you, babe.”

The sunlight blinds me and I’m engulfed in pure, white light. “So, this is it, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

I shut my eyes and when I open them, I can see again.

“Tess?”

“Yes?”

“We need to say goodbye.”

“Okay.” I squint up into the blue, blue sky. “Goodbye, Chase.”

“Be well.”

“You too.”

“Tess... I—”

My hand shakes as I draw the phone away from my ear, staring at it, able to still hear the distant rumble of Chase’s voice but not his words. Slowly and with a terrible sense of finality, I press END.

I can’t move.

But I do. I do move. I put one foot in front of the other until I am outside the airport in the blinding sun, strangely incongruous to the way I’m feeling. It should be foggy, overcast, cold, rainy.

Breath hitches in my throat and I collapse onto a bench, my bags at my feet.

Completely alone.

There is a difference between being alone and being lonely. Ninety-nine point nine, nine, percent of the time I am the former. Today, at this moment, I am the latter.

Did I make a mistake back in Eden? Was this the one wrong choice?

There is no right path, no wrong path, just different paths. You must just be prepared to live with the consequences.

Loneliness wraps me in its suffocating embrace; its cold arms constrict my chest, its cold breath fans my cheeks, its emptiness sucks at my soul. A consequence of my choice?

No.

No!

It’s not loneliness, it’s sadness. Allowing Chase to move on is necessary and it’s the only way for me to move on too. The only way to manage the sadness is to feel it and embrace it right back. Though I must look like a loon, I sit on the bench and open my arms, welcoming sadness in its entirety.

The emotion washes over me, entering all of my orifices, moving through me and cleansing me.

Eventually I open my eyes but continue to just sit and wait. For what? I don’t know. Nothing.

Except when my phone pings, I feel as if the ping is the noise I was waiting for, the noise echoing as if from down a tunnel, resonating from a distance.

I take a deep breath and check the message. It’s from an unknown number.

>Hey pretty lady, why so sad?<

I scan the cars nearby, both those that are parked and those that are inching along, looking for a place to pull over.

A rumbling sounds starts up from the short term parking lot. Fuck. I know that sound. It’s a familiar, delicious rumbling sound of a monster of a motorbike. My frigid heart heats up, beating erratically with the hope that the bike I hear is bearing the weight of one man in particular.

I sit, wrapping my arms around myself, tight. Not willing to get my hopes up until...

Oh God. It’s him.

A monster-of-a-man, straddling a monster-of-a-bike weaves in and out between the vehicles approaching me with maddening slowness.

I know what I said. I said Tessa Savage does not need a man to be happy, which is true. But this man? This man whose face is hidden behind a close-cropped beard and dark wrap-around shades? The one whose darkest desires and vulnerabilities are hidden inside a mammoth body covered in fierce tattoos? This man is the exception to the rule. I am ecstatic, over-the-moon-happy to see this man

Perhaps because when last we met, every moment we spent together was punctuated with extreme emotion, from being lost in passion to being lost in life or death situations. Our time together felt unfinished and we were torn apart, wondering if we would ever see each other again.