Only once I’d scattered a few broken branches and foliage over the top did I grab my bag and crawl through the dense undergrowth.

It seemed this particular island was uninhabited—or at least, where I’d landed.

A raucous bird song hinted it was populated by animals other than humans. Peering into the treetops, hidden in dense foliage, and damp with sweat, I spotted the tiny parrot who’d kept me company during the night.

It sat eating some sort of berry, stripping the outer layer and indulging in the juiciness within. My own stomach growled, prompting a small breakfast from my rations. A sun-warmed orange and a slightly crushed pastry were followed by a few sips of water.

Packing my picnic away, I didn’t drink what my thirst demanded.

I would restrict myself carefully. Who knew how long this trip would take.

Thirsty, achy, and tired, I made a little nest of leaves and lay down.

At least I didn’t have to worry about hiding from people. I could rest in the shady undergrowth, recover from a night of rowing, and begin again at dusk.

* * * * *

I rowed for another night.

The tiny parrot perched on my bag and watched me dig the oar into the sea, over and over again. I didn’t know why it’d chosen to follow me. I didn’t know if I’d stolen something valuable from Sully unintentionally, but I was glad for its company. I found comfort in its intelligent black gaze as we continued to slice through black sky and even blacker ocean.

Occasionally, I’d shine my torch over the glossy surface, beaming illumination through the gloom, seeing gliding shadows of sea creatures, witnessing luminescent fish as they darted through the light, but most of the time, I rowed in utter darkness.

I could be going in circles.

I could be returning to Sully.

I could be rowing to my demise.

My back ached from twisting and spearing the oar into the water. My hands, even wrapped with one of my blouses, oozed blood and blisters.

I ignored it all.

Freedom was worth the pain.

By the time the sky lightened on the second day, a larger island beckoned up ahead. A smaller landmass heralded safety to my left, hinting Sully hadn’t been lying when he said he owned forty-four islands in his private archipelago.

The islands were scattered everywhere. Some close, some far. All of them potential friend or foe.

Pausing, I studied the left island. The size looked too small to hold habitation. It would be safe to rest without being caught. But the sheer sides offered no mooring for the kayak and I didn’t have the strength to row around the entire thing, searching for a bay, only to find none and have to keep going.

I needed to be off the open water before the sky pinked any brighter.

My eyes locked on the larger island ahead. Still a few kilometres away but doable if I summoned the final dregs of my energy. Striking off with renewed determination, the little parrot squawked and flapped its wings.

Goosebumps ran down my arms as it cocked its head, staring at the pre-dawn sky. It chirped again, this time with a worried question hidden in the avian dialogue.

I followed its stare, studying the world above me instead of the water around me. Fear appeared and spread through my heart, quick and insidious.

The sky wasn’t clear like usual.

Every day since I’d been on Sully’s island, the horizon usually held turquoise blue with the occasional rain cloud. Rain fell at night when the humidity level had filled the clouds to capacity. I’d grown used to the stability of hot days and wet nights.

But today, the sky was not stable.

Black-edged clouds gathered in one giant mass. Wind sprung up as if Zeus flicked a switch, whipping the calm sea into choppy whitecaps. A rumble of deep, disturbing thunder echoed in the distance.

My fear morphed to panic.

The parrot hopped from one bag handle to the other, chirping and twittering in worry.

“Shit.” I plowed the oar into the water, shooting us forward. A tropical storm could rip palm trees from the soil, claw apart villas, and decimate islands. A tropical storm at sea where a girl and a tiny parrot sat in a flimsy kayak? It could kill us.

I rowed as fast as I could.

The heavens opened.

And big fat raindrops fell.

Chapter Thirteen

I LANDED IN JAKARTA.

Alone.

The whole flight from the USA back to Indonesia had been a torture marathon of my thoughts. The waiting in LAX for a way home had driven me insane. The five-hour delay in Singapore shredded my self-control.

I’d flown to my lab to protect everything valuable to me. I’d left my sanctuary to face a brother I despised with every molecule, yet…before I’d even arrived, I’d turned around and jumped on the next available flight home.

I’d chosen a fucking goddess over my empire.

I’d sent Calvin to deal with Drake when it ought to have been me.

My palms had crescent-moon cuts from my nails digging deep. I’d clenched my fists the entire journey, unable to figure out what the fuck I was doing.

Why had I abandoned everything I’d built? Why had there been no question about which catastrophe to chase?

Even Cal had known. The minute Arbi called, he’d collected my thrown phone, called to book the next available flight back to Indo—a wait-time of eight fucking hours—and then continued to the chartered plane to San Diego.

I trusted him to kick Drake from my building.

I knew he’d set the board straight.

But it should have been fucking me.

Christ!

I raked a hand through my hair, pacing down the air bridge with the two other first-class passengers. I had a good mind to turn around, jump back on the Boeing, and order the pilots to take me back to America. To stop being a goddamn idiot and put my company before a goddess.

I’ll book a return journey.

Right now.

Turning on my phone, I gritted my teeth with determination. I’d made a mistake flying back here. Arbi could find Eleanor. He could discipline her. She couldn’t have gotten far. I’d arrange yet another plane to get me to San Diego, and I’d deal with my fucktard of a brother myself.

And then I’d deal with my runaway possession.

Notifications and emails pinged as I connected to the internet. Ignoring it all, I scrolled through my phonebook to the travel associate on file.

My phone vibrated in my hand before I could connect the call, the ringtone following a second later.

Arbi.

Pressing accept, I picked up my pace to customs and immigration. “You find her?”

If they’d found Eleanor, they knew what to do until I returned. She’d be held with means fitting for an ungrateful runaway. No more luxury. No more kindness. She ran from my gifts? Well, she’d fucking return to my fury.

“Eh, we found the kayak,” Arbi muttered.

“Where was she? How far did she get?”

Silence thickened before he admitted, “We found the kayak, sir. But…not the goddess.”

I slammed to a halt. “What?”

“She, eh, wasn’t on the boat. It capsized in the storm. It didn’t last long, but the wind and rain—”

“Storm? What fucking storm?”

“It came through early this morning.”

Placing him on speaker, I brought up the local weather forecast. Sure enough, a tropical pattern had swooped through just before dawn, drenching the area, causing localized flooding and a few ruined infrastructures.