Monroe had a strong mind. He could will himself to conquer his thoughts whenever necessary. That meant pesky things like sadness or regret didn’t linger long. He applied logic and brought himself back whenever life knocked him off-kilter. It’d made him the businessman he was today. It made him a man who could walk away from anything. A deal. A business relationship. A lover. Life had taught him nothing was permanent so there was no point dwelling on something that inevitably would be gone anyway.

Yet with all his years of practice Aria had managed to grind the gears of his mind to a halt. Her priceless expression when he presented her with every indulgence she’d been lacking. The fire in her eyes as he brought her to ecstasy. The sadness that enveloped her entire body when she realized happiness was not sustainable. Every subtle mannerism and reaction she’d had was etched in his mind.

It took willpower to refrain from calling his pilot and having the jet fueled and on the tarmac. He could forget this entire deal and whisk Aria off to Paris. Give her the European fantasy she’d always dreamed of. The hurt that flashed across her eyes would be extinguished. The secrets she felt compelled to lock tightly within her would burst free. They wouldn’t matter anymore. But the ringing of his cell phone worked like a spear to burst the bubble he’d been filling with fantasy.

“Hello,” he barked, angry for the interruption as he waited for Aria to join him in the gardens. She’d run back to her bunk to get ready and ensure the contacts were willing to trust him.

“Monroe, it’s James West. Asher Barrington said we should connect.”

“Yes,” Monroe replied unenthusiastically as he recalled Asher pulling out of this deal at the last minute and leaving him with a hell of a task.

“I’ve had some time to look at all the information you and Asher have discussed so far. There is enormous potential for growth on the island and I agree, even though the price tag is substantial, the Carle De Blu is the perfect first phase. If we can buy it and the surrounding property, we’d be positioned perfectly to corner the potential market. You have a great find on your hands. How’d you get tipped off to it?”

“You’d be amazed what people are willing to tell you when they think you don’t actually care,” Monroe explained. “Seeming uninterested is half the battle.”

“My wife would vehemently disagree with you,” James laughed. “She hates when I don’t look interested. We’re actually both scheduled to fly in tomorrow. We’ll be staying at the Carle De Blu as well. We’re obviously keeping this deal close to our vests here. At least this way I can get a feel for the place too.”

“I have some reservations,” Monroe cautioned. “Asher and I have a process for things of this nature. That is when he doesn’t back out on me at the last minute. I’m the recognizance guy. I can spot a liability from a mile away. You, being successful in your oil business, must already know this. The deal isn’t about what they tell you; it’s about what you can find out. I make it a point to pull back the curtain and see what’s actually going on. There have been dozens of acquisitions I’ve walked away from because of something I found while digging around.”

“You think there’s something significant there?” James asked, a ragged nervousness to his voice. “As a man who keeps up to date on things, I’m sure you know what West Oil has been through lately. We have dug ourselves out of a tremendous hole of public perception. I can’t risk jeopardizing the progress if you think there are some issues.”

“I don’t need any PR headaches either. Trust me. I don’t have answers yet. I’m only now getting the details together.”

James West paused and took a deep breath. “We’re checking in tomorrow afternoon and staying for two days. Think we can get this sorted by then?”

“We’ll either be greenlighting the deal by the time you’re ready to leave, or we walk away.” Monroe kept his eye on the path, hoping to see Aria’s sweet figure approach.

“That sounds rash,” James cut back, his voice flat and annoyed. “With the amount of money on the table, we should be bringing in consultants and our finance team. I’d like to run it all by my COO. Mathew is the numbers guy. This whole thing came up quickly, but I figured if Asher was interested it was worth my time. We can’t possibly know if this is viable in a day or two.”

“It’s been more than a day on my end. I received this tip about the potential investment a while ago, and I’ve been vetting it out ever since. Asher trusts me and my gut. If he were in your position he wouldn’t be questioning my advice to walk away. I’ve built an empire on trusting my instincts. Plenty of deals can look good on paper. As you know from personal experience, a company can present itself one way and have skeletons in the closet. West Oil, under your father’s leadership, was mostly smoke and mirrors. Right?”

“You can’t believe everything you hear on the news,” James said, and Monroe could tell his teeth were grinding together with anger.

“I never rely on the news,” Monroe insisted. “I get my information straight from reliable sources. Now if you can’t get on board with how I do things I’d suggest you cancel your trip. I get that you don’t know me, and my word means nothing to you. But these are my terms. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll be there tomorrow,” James said, without committing to the terms. “Let’s meet for dinner. I promised my wife this would be more vacation than work. Apparently cleaning all those skeletons out of the closet is hard work, and she’s convinced I need a break. She won’t want us talking business at the table, but after dinner we can grab a Scotch and hash this thing out.”

“I know a place,” Monroe said, finally catching a glimpse of Aria approaching. “I have to get back to digging for the good stuff here. Information is power.”

“Then tomorrow,” James said, sounding resigned to Monroe’s structured ways.

Monroe disconnected the call just as Aria bounced happily back to his side. “I hope I didn’t take too long.” She’d changed into a vibrantly colored cotton shirt and white shorts that hugged her body perfectly. Her luminous sun-kissed brown skin was glowing.

“I’d have waited all day,” Monroe said, leaning and kissing her cheek. “Where are we off to?”

“Come on,” Aria said, tugging his arm like an excited child. “Javier agreed to talk to you. His shift starts in thirty minutes, so we’ll have to hurry.”

Aria led Monroe past a gate and along a line of overgrown shrubs. The island music faded as the path narrowed. Every sculpted, well thought out detail of the resort was gone now. All that remained was a neglected area full of tiny bungalows, each only a few feet away from the next. The roofs were made of thatched straw and the sides looked no thicker than plywood.

“This is his,” Aria whispered. “We can’t talk long, and we can’t let anyone else know why you’re here. I told them you were a guy I met.”

“I am,” Monroe said, forcing a smile. In reality his chest tightened at the thought of Aria living in these conditions.

“Javier, this is Monroe. He wants to know more about how you got here,” Aria said, her voice still hushed as they stepped into the bungalow that was no bigger than ten feet across. Two bunks were pushed to either side of the room and belongings were crammed in every corner.

“Ah hi,” Javier said, his eyes darting around as he crammed his hands into his white uniform pockets. “I . . . um, I’m not so sure this is a good idea, Aria.”

“I told you,” Aria pleaded, “You can trust him. I promise. He’s here to help.”

The words cut at Monroe, temporarily stealing his voice. His motives were rooted purely in the business strategy. Did he want to shine a light on the issues Aria brought up? Sure. If it worked out. But the promises she was making on his behalf weren’t completely genuine.

“Javier,” he muttered, “I don’t intend to use your name or anything you tell me in a way that could hurt you or your current position. This is a fact-finding mission. That’s all.”

“Well,” Javier started, eyeing Aria closely as if he was still trying to decide if this was safe, “I grew up in south L.A. You were either in a gang or killed by one or both. Somehow I skated through the years, dodging it. When I turned sixteen I was out of options. They were threatening my family. My mother. It was either join or pay the consequences.”

“That must have been awful,” Aria cut in empathically. How she’d held on to her humanity in the face of the conditions she was working in was a mystery to Monroe.

Javier continued, his confidence growing. “I didn’t know what else to do. Then all of a sudden I get approached by these men. They start telling me I have better options. We heard that plenty when I was growing up. But it was usually just people telling us we could go to college. Be better. And it wasn’t ever true. But these guys were different.”

“They were trying to recruit you for a job here on the resort?” Monroe asked, knowing they were pressed for time.

“They were telling me they had this amazing opportunity. They’d pay for my flight down here. I’d get a place to live. A paradise. A job full of opportunity. I could even get my mother and brother down here someday once I’d earned enough.”

“It’s not better than south L.A. gang life here?” Monroe asked, trying to ignore the cramped quarters and the lack of accommodations. No one was shooting at them. No one was forcing Javier to sell drugs or steal.

“I haven’t been home in three years,” Javier said, a nervous cracking in his voice. “Even getting time to make calls back home is nearly impossible. I can’t make enough to do anything different. Every time I save up something, they turn to my contract and tell me I owe for something. Or they’re docking me for some infraction I didn’t even know about. It’s a trap. This whole place is.”

“So why not blow the whistle yourself?” Monroe asked, folding his arms across his chest. He could imagine how someone could get sucked into this trap, but for the life of him he couldn’t understand why they didn’t fight harder to get out.

“I . . . uh,” Javier rolled to his heels and bounced nervously. “No one back home knows where I am. The few times management thought I might get the bright idea of leaving or telling my family back home what’s going on, they reminded me the gangs were still there. They probably think I’m some kind of informant. A rat. No one disappears like that and then turns up years later. They suggested that maybe someone told them that, and my family would have to deal with it. It would be the end of them.”

“That’s extortion. An emotional hostage situation,” Aria cried angrily.

“You wouldn’t have to go home,” Monroe suggested. “Go anywhere in the world.”

“That would take a miracle, and to be able to do it with my family would be impossible. The people here, they are smart,” Javier said in a hushed voice. “And I’m not. I get to take two steps forward and three back. Any of us who think we can beat the system . . . they always find a way to show us we can’t. It’s hard to explain to a man like you.” Javier gestured at Monroe and his expensive shoes. “I’m sure no one gets anything by you.”

“I’m not trying to dismiss what you’re saying,” Monroe assured him. He could feel Aria’s eyes on him, scrutinizing what she must have felt was him being a jerk. “This is what people would ask. They’d see the problem and think it’s a simple solution. I want you to tell me why it isn’t.”

“My shift is about to start,” Javier said, looking at the small clock on a box in the corner of the room. “If I’m late it’s more demerits.”

“Thanks, Javier,” Aria said, pulling him in for a hug as he passed. “I’ll see you later. I hope you have a good shift.”

He didn’t say another word as he slipped out the bungalow door and left Monroe and Aria standing inches from each other, but feeling miles apart. “I never promised,” Monroe started, but she waved him off.

“I know you didn’t,” Aria cut in, trying desperately to not look hurt. “You don’t owe any of us anything. I just thought you’d be more sensitive when you heard him out.”

“Sensitive isn’t my usual speed,” Monroe admitted. “I have to ask tough questions.”

“I understand.” Aria sighed. “I have a couple other people who have agreed to talk with you.”

“And you’re still fine with that?” Monroe asked. “I understand why you might want to back out now.”

“It’s important. They’ll talk with you. If I tell them to, I know they will.”

“They love you,” he said, looking fondly at her gentle face. “People follow you because you care for them.”

“It gets us nothing in the end,” she said flatly.

“Dinner,” Monroe said, snapping his fingers together as he remembered his conversation with James. “Tomorrow night. I have to make reservations for dinner. An associate and his wife are coming in, and I told them I would. Any suggestions?”

“Just eat at one of the places on the resort,” Aria shrugged, her face flushed with an emotion Monroe couldn’t nail down.

“That won’t work,” he said, taking her delicate hand in his. “You said you can’t eat on property. So we’ll need something off the beaten path.”

“You want me at a dinner with you and other people? Associates?” Her eyes were wide and untrusting. “I wouldn’t fit in around that table. I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“You’re the perfect addition to any table. Any room.” He leaned down and nibbled at her earlobe. “Any bed.”

“I know a place,” Aria said, brightening some. “How fancy should it be? What do they like?”

“I actually haven’t met them before,” Monroe explained. “You pick something, and I’m sure it’ll be great.”

“I know a place I’m sure they’d love, but I don’t have anything to wear.” She looked down at her current outfit like it was a potato sack. Unworthy.

“I’ll have something perfect for you. I have an eye for dress sizes. You make the reservation, and I’ll take care of everything else.”

“Everything else,” Aria said, falling into his now open arms. “I hope you do.”