CHAPTER NINE
In silence, Rook brought me to the main reception building, on the north side of the island near the landing strip, where the resident physician had an office and exam room around back.
Rook got out of the cart and walked around. We hadn’t exchanged a single word since the beach, so to say the situation felt awkward was a huge, huge understatement. We’d just gone at it with our clothes on in some twisted attempt to blow off steam.
But I don’t feel relieved. I felt hungrier than ever. He’d given me a taste of something I’d been begrudgingly aching for, and now I wouldn’t be satisfied until I had the real thing.
He extended his hand to help me out of the golf cart, but I didn’t take it.
“Why don’t you just quit?” I asked.
He dropped his hand and rubbed the back of his neck, giving it some thought. “That’s like asking you to stop your lying, sneaky games, and to let go of your Cici conspiracy theories.”
I bit down on my lower lip. My heart pounded with adrenaline. I wasn’t shocked by his suspicion, but I was shocked that he’d confront me like this. What did he think I’d do, confess?
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said.
He flashed a smile, making those two deep dimples appear in his stubbled cheeks. “Sure you don’t,” he said sarcastically. “Just like you don’t know more than you should about me.”
Rook is tipping his hand. This felt like a test to see if he could trust me. I had to tip my hand, too, and let him in, or he wouldn’t do the same.
“I like to know who I’m getting into bed with,” I said. “Can you blame me?”
Rook shook his head, as if to say again, “You’re going to be the death of me, woman.”
“I meant it metaphorically—of course,” I added. “You want me to stay long term and help you run things, right?”
He stared for the longest moment, his eyes intense and charged with dark emotion. “That is the plan, Miss Fitzgerald.” He held out his hand, and this time I took it.
As our palms met, electricity pulsed through me. It was him. Just because I’m sexually attracted to him doesn’t change anything. Don’t forget it, Stephanie. I wouldn’t. This episode might have felt good, but really I had to see it for what it was: an opportunity. I’d found another way to get him to trust me.
“Thank you,” I said.
“For what?” he asked.
“For giving me my first orgasm. Now that I’ve had a taste, I’m sure I’ll need another.” No, I wasn’t a virgin, but I’d never experienced that before. Not even on my own.
He gave me a harsh look. “I don’t know if my back can handle it.” Meaning, he’d be whipping the hell out of himself for what he’d just done.
I flashed a wicked little smile. “I’ve got a date with a Scottish laird if you’re not up for it.” Rook needed to be pushed. I couldn’t let him put distance between us again, and if I’d learned anything, it was that Rook might feel conflicted about it, but he did want me.
Rook shook his head, and I wrapped my arm around his shoulder. “You’re playing with fucking fire, Stephanie.”
“Good. I like the heat. Yours especially.”
Dr. Rosy was a portly woman in her late sixties, with dark olive skin and bottle-cap glasses. With just one look, I knew she had been living here a long time. Nobody vibed that laid-back and lived near civilization.
“My, my, what have we here?” said Dr. Rosy, emerging from what appeared to be a supply closet.
“She cut her foot—a piece of coral, I think,” said Rook.
The doctor bobbed her head. “Did you rinse it with anything?” she asked him.
Rook had a slight blush to his cheeks. “I was too busy taking care of her other needs.” He cracked a hint of a smile at me, but then returned to his usual stone-cold façade that gave nothing away. “And now I must take care of my own.” He dipped his head and turned toward me. “I leave you in good hands.”
“Will I see you later?” I asked.
“I’m afraid I will be quite occupied this evening.” His expression remained cool, but I got the gist: penance time.
“I still have your robe. Do you need it?” I smirked with a twinge of sadistic joy. Yes, maybe I was liking the sudden shift in our cat and mouse relationship.
He tilted his head to one side. “Keep it. A souvenir.”
“That’s really not the sort of thing that does it for me.” I flashed a glance down to his bare ripped abs.
“In that case, you may bring it by another time.”
“Don’t forget my supplies, Rook,” said Dr. Rosy. “I can’t start the week without smelling salts, saline drips, and sterile ice packs.”
“I won’t forget,” he said all too charmingly.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Stateside—I must attend to some personal business. I leave first thing in the morning.”
So Rook was leaving me here all alone. I would definitely need to spy on him tonight so I’d know how to access his shack and the library below.
“You will hold down the fort, Miss Fitzgerald, will you not?” he asked.
I nodded. “I’ll be working hard on preparing myself for Monday’s guests and personally inspecting the castle and cattle ranch.” I wanted him to think I would still be sampling the Scotsman and cowboy.
He frowned with those cool eyes. “I never said yes to that.”
“I never asked for permission.”
“I must go.” He snarled. “You and I will revisit this topic another time.”
I turned my attention to Dr. Rosy. “So how many stitches?”
Rook slipped out, leaving behind his unhappy energy.
Dr. Rosy smiled at me. “What on God’s green earth did you do to that man?”
I shrugged, thinking about how he and I had just dry humped each other. I imagined he enjoyed it as much as I did, but that walking around afterwards wasn’t his idea of something dignified grown men did. Or monks.
Suddenly, I wondered if that was the first time a woman had made him come. Is he a virgin?
No. Not possible. Then again, if he truly was what he said, he actually might be.
The thought made me instantly hot. Having Rook all to myself. Untouched. Pent up. Fucking hotter than hell.
“I don’t know,” I muttered, unintentionally answering Rosy’s question.
She shook her head. “Well, I’ve never seen Mr. Rook so giddy.”
Giddy? One corner of his mouth had curled up.
“I barely know him, so I couldn’t say,” I replied.
“I’ve known him for forty years. He was definitely giddy.”
Forty. But Rook didn’t look older than…than…well, it was hard to say. Sometimes he looked like he was in his early thirties, sometimes in his mid-forties.
“Oh, did you deliver him?” I asked.
“Heavens no. We’ve only—” She stopped herself midsentence. Dr. Rosy suddenly didn’t look so rosy any more. “You know, maybe I misspoke. I’ve only known him for twenty. The mind hits sixty and it’s all downhill from there.” She motioned for me to come into her exam room. “Let’s get that foot looked at.”
Confused, my ass. She was lying. Just like Rook. Just like everyone else on this fucking pile of pretty dirt. She had known Rook for forty years, which meant he was much older than he looked.
I smiled, not wanting to alarm her. “Thanks. It really hurts.”
“We’ll have you good as new in no time at all.”
I hopped up on the exam table. “I hear that’s the specialty on the island.”
She smiled with a bit of disdain seeping from her watchful brown eyes. “Why, yes. Nothing like a bit of relaxation in paradise to make you feel years younger.”
I cocked my head. “Or a few decades.”
She gave me a nod with a snarling grin. “Now that’s a little too much to hope for, but one can always wish. After all, this is the island of fantasies.” She turned away.
Rosy put three stitches in the arch of my foot and then told me to stay off it for a week to ten days. I knew that wasn’t going to happen, because tonight I needed to keep watch at Rook’s, so I asked her to tape it up good.
I hobbled out of Dr. Rosy’s office, surprised to find Luke waiting for me in a golf cart on the path.
“Hey, I heard you need a ride,” he said, flashing one of his trademark smiles.
“Don’t even,” I snapped, walking toward him.
“Even what?”
“You stood me up for our lunch date.”
“I did no such thing. Didn’t Rook tell you?” he said.
“Tell me…?”
“He made me stay—said I had to inspect the yacht and make a list of repairs.”
I slipped into the golf cart, letting that one sink in. “But aren’t you a scuba diver?”
“Yes. And we have a harbormaster and maintenance crew who know those boats inside and out.”
So Rook made Luke stay behind for nothing, which meant he had been listening in on the conversation at our apartment—the one where I told Luke I didn’t have a swimsuit.
“I think you should take another apartment, Stephanie,” Luke said, driving on the path that cut between two old cedar trees and led to a narrow bridge. I’d learned that this resort was really more like two islands divided by a very narrow channel. During low tide, the channel became rocky tide pools.
“What? Why?” Luke was my pawn now, and I needed him on my chessboard.
“Whatever’s going on between you and the boss, I don’t want to get caught in the middle. I happen to like my job very much. And as beautiful as you are, there are plenty of other fish who swim to the island.” He looked at me. “No offense.”
“None taken. But there’s no game between me and Rook,” I lied, unsure of what else to say.
“Then what would you call it?” he asked.
It’s a war, I suppose.
“Nothing. We’re nothing to each other.”
“And I’m a bald eagle,” he muttered.
I didn’t respond. Whatever he thought about us didn’t matter. And now that Rook and I had become a little more intimate, maybe I didn’t need him.
Luke took me back to the mansion so I could return to work and prepare for next week’s arrivals. I would have to ask the boss about his screening process and the check-in procedures. I would also inquire about his VIPs, too. Who were they? Where was that manifest?
Okay. I wasn’t stupid. I knew he wasn’t going to tell me, but I wondered what bullcrap he might spin. I was beginning to see that Rook’s lies always told a story:
“Sure. Stay in my cabin, I have nothing to hide.” Really, I don’t want you there and have everything to hide.
“Room with Luke. I don’t want you.” Don’t you dare think of touching him. I want you.
“I am the one thing on this island you cannot have.” I thought that one over for a moment, my mind drifting back to how Rook had made me insane with lust. Even now. Not bad for a man who likely had never been with a woman. Which might explain why he had the energy of an eighteen-year-old. Of course, he was older, but by how much? Fifty? Sixty? I thought of the eighty-year-old women who had showed up on evacuation day, looking twenty.
My heart thumped against my ribs. Could Rook be that old? Eighty. Or a hundred—like his library records?
No. Not possible. But I knew what I’d seen.
That evening, I returned to the apartments and then, deciding I’d had enough of Luke’s peanut butter and protein bars, I hobbled to the cafeteria for dinner. It was a large bright room, with a few flat screens set to the news and several colorful sitting areas with coffee tables and comfy couches. Five large tables sat in the center of the room to accommodate groups. Everything was spotless. Everything looked delicious, including the salad bar.
The way of the Rook, as Luke had said.
There was also a grill that served hot meals—all healthy stuff—and several refrigerators filled with prepared or microwavable foods.
I loaded up my tray with a whole-wheat turkey sandwich and an apple, not wanting to carry much given my fresh injury.
“Hey, you’re Miss Fitz, right?” said a guy about my age with curly brown hair and the biggest muscles I’d ever seen. Maybe too big.
“Call me Stephanie. When Rook’s not around,” I added.
“I’m Samuel. Nice to meet you.” He went on to explain that he rotated through fifty different fantasies, but specialized in anything violent or bloody.
“Requires a special skill set to make it look real,” he said. “I’m especially great with explosions. Big. Explosions.” He winked.
Oh. That kind of explosion. TMI.
“Okaaay. I will try to remember that,” I said, attempting to be open-minded. “See you around.”
Not in the mood for being social, I hobbled back toward the elevators. “Hey! It’s Fitz!” this guy popped off right as I passed a table of eight men. All huge. All handsome, of course, and all rowdy.
“So I’m guessing that’s my new nickname, huh?” Miss Fitz. Sounds like a cat. “But please call me Stephanie.”
The men introduced themselves, but they all went so fast, I only caught a few names.
“We do the water-related fantasies—sailboats, submarine, Navy recon missions, and jet skis,” said the one with brown hair seated closest to me.
“Oh, you guys are the pirates,” I said.
“Arrrr!” they all replied in unison.
“Well, nice to meet you,” I said. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”
They all laughed.
“That’s a polite way of saying it,” said a tall blond a few seats down. “I’m Brad, by the way.” He stood and proceeded to unzip the front of his shorts. “Sure you don’t want to take a look now.”
“Ohmygod.” I held out my hand, not at all amused.
“Didn’t they tell you?” he said.
“Tell me what?”
“You’ll do the grooming inspection.” He wiggled his golden brows.
Dear God. “Yes. Actually, Mr. Rook mentioned something about inspections.” I leaned in. “But will I really have to look at your…penises?”
They all laughed hysterically, bowing over their plates of food.
Brad gave me a consoling look. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. You’ll see so many cocks that it’ll be like looking at trees in a forest.”
“Big trees! With hairy balls!” one of the guys called out.
“All right then. I’m a dick inspector,” I muttered to myself.
“At least you won’t get in the way of a good boner,” said a huge burly man down at the end of the table, eating an enormous pile of spaghetti.
I frowned.
Brad leaned in to the table. “It didn’t help the performances, knowing that Day was watching.”
“Oh, fuck that, man,” said a guy with cropped blond hair sitting beside him. “One word from her in my earpiece was enough to give me a weeklong softy.”
“Nice to know.” I drew a breath. “Well, I look forward to—”
“Is it true?” asked Brad. “You’re not going to test out the fantasies? Rook said you’re taken or something.”
Rook said that? It didn’t take much for me to hope that Rook meant something by it and for me to kick myself in the ass for wishing it.
“Uh. No. I’m not taken,” I said. “I think there’s just some misunderstanding.”
The men’s faces turned into bonfires of joy.
“Please tell me you’re into pirates,” said burly guy, “because we’re the best.”
“I’m afraid I’m not ready for group sex, but I’m sure you’re all very…” I tried to think of a word to flatter them, “very good with your swords.”
They nodded in agreement.
“Well, if you change your mind, we’re here all year round,” he said.
Year round. That made me start thinking. “Oh, I’m reviewing our safety protocols. Were you guys here a few months ago when that woman drowned?”
Brad and the rest of the guys gave me blank expressions.
“What? You didn’t hear about it?” I asked.
“No. And we have weekly reviews and staff meetings. Anything goes wrong, we all hear about it. Rook takes guest and staff safety very seriously. He fires someone at least once a month for not following protocols.”
What the hell? “So no deaths, no drownings?”
“Not that any of us have heard about,” said Brad. The men all agreed.
“But if a guest went missing or did drown?” I asked.
“Heads would fucking roll,” said Brad. “Rook wouldn’t let that slide.”
“Hey,” said another guy who had stayed quiet, eating his salad all the way down at the end next to burly guy. “Do you remember three years ago, when that boat capsized? Five women went over and one was never found.”
A few guys nodded, agreeing with his recollection.
“What happened?” I asked.
“A sudden storm kicked up and they got caught in it. Rook shut the entire resort down so everyone could help look for the missing woman. He refunded all of the guests’ money and sent them home.”
“And?” If I were sitting, I’d be on the edge of my seat.
“We never found her. Rook was pissed.”
“Not pissed,” said Brad. “Rook was devastated. He closed the island for six months.”
“But he kept paying us, so whatever,” said burly guy.
I didn’t know what to say, but who the fuck cared? This was the proof my brain needed, but my heart did not. If Cici had really died like Rook said, then everyone would remember. He would’ve stopped the world to find her. He claimed he had, but it was just one more lie.
An unforgiveable lie. I nodded solemnly, my heart jumping to the light. Cici might still be alive. No, I quickly jerked myself back. I knew she’d never abandon me, which meant she was dead. But not how Rook said—search parties, helicopters, hundreds of people looking.
“Hey, you okay?” asked Brad.
Not even close. “Sure. I’m fine. I guess I got confused about the timing. It’s so hard to keep fiction and reality apart when you’re here.” I gave them a little wave. “See you all soon.”
“Hey, Stephanie!” Burly guy at the end stood and grabbed his package. “I’ll keep the garden nice and trim for you!” He chuckled.
Real nice. But what should I expect? A perfect gentleman? Gentlemen didn’t get up in the morning and rehearse their lines for a voluntary rape and pillage scene. Fuck this place.
I turned and held up my pinky, forcing myself to stay in character. “Yes, please keep the hedges neat. Otherwise, I won’t be able to spot your blade of grass.”
The men all laughed and threw pieces of bread at him.
“Hey! Hey! I’m bigger than you gherkins!” he chided as I exited the cafeteria and proceeded to vomit in a trash can next to the elevators. My eyes filled with big sloppy tears, though I didn’t really know why. I’d suspected all along that Rook had been lying, though a part of me had been holding out hope he’d been honest about Cici. I should be relieved that I’d gotten a piece of the truth, not coming undone with grief, feeling like Cici’d died all over again.
Fuck that. I’m done being sad. I had to let go of all that now and release myself from any guilt I might feel over destroying this man. This beautiful, severely fucked-up, evil man who knew exactly what I wanted and needed to hear.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and got into the elevator to go up to my floor. My soul sank deep, my heart sank deeper. I’d never felt so alone in my entire life. My mother, gone. My father fighting a war that existed in his head. My sister taken from me. Now, I realized, hope had been added to my list of the dead.