Raw, A Dark Romance (3 page)

Now, getting a little panicked, I tried Sid again. God help us all if she missed our flight. She would be heartbroken.

The phone rang. And rang. And rang.

Finally, a click.

“Sid?” I practically shouted into my phone. “Sid, where are you?”

“Ken.” Her voice was low, weak, hoarse.

My hackles went up. That didn’t sound like the Sid I was expecting. Last night she was so excited, she’d talked a million words a minute. “What’s wrong, Sid? Where are you?”

“I’m at home. I got sick last night. Violently sick. I think it might be food poisoning. I’ve been throwing up all night long.” She sighed long and loud. “Ken, I can’t fly with you today.”

My insides twisted. What did this mean? If Sid couldn’t come, the trip would be cancelled, right? I couldn’t go to Spain alone. No way! “Oh, no! Sid, are you going to be okay? I’m guessing that means the trip will be postponed. Give me a little time and I’ll head over to your place—“

“No, you have to go,” she said.

“But if you’re sick—“

“FI is sending another chaperone to take my place for the first couple of days.”

“But, Sid.”

“I’ll fly out in a day or two, when I’m feeling better. We’ll still get to
Italy and France. As soon as I’m well enough to make the trip, I’ll get there. Okay?”

I didn’t like this. Not one bit. But it was Sid’s job at risk. And
her
dream trip being interrupted. I hoped she was right and she’d be better in a couple of days. And that FI would send another chaperone. Because there was no way I wanted to travel alone. “Okay. Call me later. Please. Let me know how you’re doing.”

“I will. Have a good flight.” I could hear Sid was trying to sound cheery. It wasn’t quite working. Her words were slightly slurred, her voice gritty. I wished I could call off this whole thing and go take care of her.

“Thanks. Talk to you when I get to Spain. Bye, Sid.” As I poked my phone to cut off the call, the sound of clicking echoed through the plane’s passenger entrance. A few seconds later a middle-aged woman boarded the plane. She was dressed to kill and very stylish, her hair cut in a chic bob. A massive Louis Vuitton handbag hung from her shoulder.

“Hello, Miss Tremaine,” she greeted me, her lipsticked lips stretched into a broad smile. “I’m Tonya Barlow, your chaperone for the first few days of your visit with Mr. Ramos. By now, I’m assuming you’ve heard from Miss Morris?” she offered her hand.

I smiled back as I shook it, despite my conflicting emotions. “I just got off the phone with her.”

“Good. I apologize for being late.” She dropped onto the couch beside me, releasing a little sigh as she sat. “I had to pack at the last minute. It was a crazy morning.”

“No need to apologize. I can imagine. Do you travel a lot for your job?” At the sound of a thump, I glanced at the plane’s passenger door. It was shut. It seemed we were about to take off.

Tonya waved a hand. “Oh, all the time. I’ve learned to always keep my passport renewed and my suitcase close by. It comes with the job, since our clients live all over the world.”

“My friend Sidonie hasn’t done any traveling yet. This was supposed to be her first trip. She was very excited about it.”

“She’s still new. Give her another year, and she’ll be a seasoned international traveler.” Tonya smiled. “At any rate, I’m here to see to your protection and well-being. If at any point you feel uncomfortable about how things are going, you let me know.”

“Thanks.” I braced myself as the plane started rolling. “I appreciate that FI sends someone along. I would definitely be scared to make a trip to a foreign country, to meet a stranger, alone.”

“Oh, absolutely. We take our girls’ safety very seriously. All our bachelors are thoroughly screened, but we know that international travel can be dangerous. We wouldn’t ever let a girl travel unchaperoned. Ever. I’ve been to
Spain many times. I know the laws, the customs, the language. You’re in good hands. No worries.” She gave me a bright, reassuring smile, and for a moment I was kind of glad Sid couldn’t come with me. She didn’t know Spain at all. Maybe things had worked out for the better.

Despite my jangling nerves, I yawned as I peered out the oval window.

Outside, the world zoomed by at faster and faster speeds. The plane bounced then lifted, nose up, back-end following, soaring into the air.

Tonya stood in the tilted interior, went to a compartment at the rear of the cabin and pulled out a blanket and pillow. She handed them to me. “It’s a seven-hour flight. It will be very late when we arrive. Might as well make yourself comfortable and get some rest. Do you need anything to help you sleep? A drink? Or perhaps a mild sedative to help you sleep? I see your doctor prescribed something for the trip. The prescription was included in your paperwork.”

“A glass of ginger ale would be fine. And I should probably try to sleep, but I’ve never taken that medication before.”

“No worries. It’s very mild. I take it occasionally, too. It’s difficult sleeping on planes.”

“That, it is.” I plopped the pillow on the couch and draped the blanket over my legs as Tonya summoned the flight attendant to get my drink.

Minutes later I was reclined in one of the padded seats, sipping on ginger ale and watching a movie. My well-dressed guard dog was on her computer, tap, tap, tapping away on the keys. As time dragged, my eyelids grew heavy, my eyes dry, my head foggy. I closed my eyes to rest them and dozed as the film’s dialogue played in the headphones cupped over my ears.

I’d flown before. Never had I been so comfortable.

So very comfortable.

Sometimes they came to me cowering and timid. Nearly broken already. There was no pleasure, no challenge in taming them. I wanted more. I wanted them to hiss and scratch and bite. The end was always the same. But it was that much more satisfying to see them stripped of their will and their pride when those were what they clung to the hardest. --Kace R.

I woke to the sensation of the plane bouncing, wheels striking ground.

We couldn’t be in
Spain already. Did we stop to refuel before flying over the ocean? That had to be it.

I blinked open my eyes and, expecting to see daylight, pushed up the window shade.

It was pitch black outside. Black as midnight.

Impossible.

As I squinted into the darkness, I could swear I saw palm trees. Did we fly south? To Florida? That wasn’t possible. Florida was a two-hour flight. We had departed a little before noon. It shouldn’t be any later than two or three in the afternoon.

“Time to go,” Tonya said, as she smiled down at me. “Did you have a good rest?”

“Yes. I did. Um, where are we?” I squinted out the window again.

“We’re in
Malaga, of course. You slept the whole flight. Within minutes of takeoff, you were out like a light.”

I stretched stiff muscles and tried to un-fog my foggy brain. I felt so sluggish, almost hung over. I’d been knocked out cold for seven hours. Mild? Tonya had called that medication mild? “I…I slept the whole trip? Seven hours?”

“You sure did.” She stepped back to give me room to stand then followed me out of the plane. We stepped outside into warm, fragrant air. Moving a little clumsily, I climbed down the steps and teetered to the waiting limo. Within minutes my bags were loaded into the car’s trunk and we were whisked off, into the dark night, toward the waiting hotel room. Shortly after takeoff, Tonya had told me I wouldn’t be meeting my billionaire until tomorrow afternoon. That was a good thing. I needed some time to adjust to the time change and shake off the jetlag and sleeping-pill hangover.

Feeling wilted, I stared out the window, watching the ocean shoreline on one side and mountains in the distance on the other. I hoped I wasn’t facing a long drive to the hotel. I would just love to sink into a cozy bed and sleep for at least twelve more hours. Either international travel was a killer or I was a sleeping-pill lightweight. Probably both.

“It’s not quite a half-hour drive,” Tonya informed me, as if she could read my mind. “Feel free to sleep in the car. I’ll wake you when we get to our destination.” She pulled a flap on a console door and grabbed a pillow and blanket, both wrapped in plastic. She unwrapped them before handing them to me. “I apologize for the long drive. Ideally, we like to fly our girls into a private airport located on the host’s property. But your host’s plane flies out of a nearby airport. His property is primarily waterfront. 

“That’s okay. I’m happy to spend one night in a hotel anyway. I don’t think I would be good company tonight, being all messy and jet-laggy.”

“Yes, well, we’ll make sure you’re well-rested before meeting Señor Ramos tomorrow.”

Señor Ramos.

My Spanish billionaire.

The uber-important client who I knew so little about.

He was rich. He lived in Spain. He was powerful. And, if the picture Sid had shown me wasn’t thirty years old, he was handsome. That was it--all I knew.

I had flown all this way to meet a stranger. I could still barely believe it. Was I crazy for doing this? Would I regret it? God, I hoped not. A little quiver of nerves zapped through me, the first since the plane had taken off. But as quickly as it came, it went. Maybe tomorrow I would be nervous. After the sleeping pill had worn off and reality had set in. For now I was just...sleepy.

I fluffed my pillow and turned sideways to stretch my legs out on the long bench seat. Ah, comfy. I leaned back and let myself drift in and out of a light sleep. It seemed like the car pulled up in front of a lavish hotel within minutes. I was escorted out of the car, my bags carried by the driver. The interior of the hotel was spectacular. We stepped through a pair of towering doors into a gorgeous reception area. Directly in front of me curled a pair of staircases leading to an open balcony above. A woman, the concierge, greeted us at the door. Without waiting for us to check in--I didn’t even see the front desk-- she escorted us up the staircase and down a number of silent but grand hallways. I had never seen anything like this place. It was magnificent. Like a castle.

Finally, the concierge stopped, opened a huge door and waved me into a room. The driver, dragging along behind me, left my suitcases next to the door as I took a gawking look at my surroundings.

I never imagined a hotel room could be so gorgeous.

The concierge said, “There are beverages and some snacks in the refrigerator.” Then she hurried out before I had a chance to tip her.

“This place is amazing,” I said to Tonya’s back.

She stood next to the huge arched windows lining the room’s far wall. Drapes obscured the view. Tonya pulled one aside, revealing a pair of French doors. “Ah, you have an ocean view. Wow.”

“Are you kidding me?” I scurried after her, halting when I caught sight of the moonlit water outside. “Oh my gosh. I wish Sid was here with me right now.” I clicked a picture with my phone and texted it to her.

“She’ll be joining you as soon as she’s well enough to travel.” Tonya gave me a kind smile. “If there’s nothing else I can do for you, I think I’ll head out. I could use some sleep myself.”

“Oh, yes. Absolutely. Thanks for everything.”

She nodded and left.

I did a three-sixty, marveling at the luxury all around me. After years of starvation, struggle, misery, and hell, how had I gotten to this point? Never, in my wildest dreams, did I imagine that one day I would be staying in a luxury hotel in Spain, flown by private jet, a billionaire paying a crap-ton of money to meet me--a girl who had clawed her way out of the gutter one inch at a time. A girl who was still trying to claw her way out.

If he was expecting a woman who was classy and sophisticated, born with a silver spoon in her mouth and gold-plated diapers on her ass, he was in for a big surprise. But at least I would be getting a paid vacation out of the deal.

I hurried through my getting-ready-for bed routine. Squashing the temptation to dash out to that glorious ocean and dip my feet into the softly lapping water, I sank into the most comfortable bed I’d ever laid on and let my dreams carry me away.

Tomorrow I would meet the mysterious billionaire who had forked out a zillion dollars to fly me out to his country. I smiled as visions of dark-eyed, dark-haired Spaniards flashed through my mind. What were the chances that he was younger than fifty? Probably none. And what were the chances that we would fall madly in love in one week and live happily-ever-after? Absolutely none. But I let my imagination run wild. If nothing else, this trip would make great inspiration for my next book.

The scent of salt in the air, carried through the open window on a gentle breeze, and the distant sound of the waves lulled me to sleep.

* * * * *

The sun soaking through my eyelids, turning black to red, woke me the next morning. Being totally out of whack, thanks to the time zone change and the lingering effects of that
mild
sleeping pill, I had no idea what time it was. I checked the clock. It said it was a little after eight in the morning. I yawned, swallowing huge gulps of fragrant, warm air.