BILLIONAIRE Island: Idyllic Mischief (6 page)

Damn was pointedly focusing all his attention on Sash, making it very clear to Indie who he was interested in and that it was her friend he'd been after last night. They were leaned in, head to head, while Indie sat to the side. Sash laughed just a little too obviously for Indie's taste and was careful to avoid looking at her.
Shit, are you bitching your best friend, who brought you down here and is taking care of your tropical vacation, over a guy you don't even like?

Big deal if it was Sasha he was into to and only hung out with Indie once he discovered she was Sasha's little friend. It was Sasha he'd invited to ski, hadn't even asked if Indie knew how. What had he said?- “And bring your friend!” Yeah, she was there to play chaperone for all the illicit cuckolding going down in paradise. She lifted her head and caught the Mamma's full glare, eyes boring into her as though she'd pocketed the silver spoons. Sheeeet.

“
Allez
, come let's get the boat.” Damn leapt up as though the gathering had suddenly bored him and stood, hands on hips, waiting for them to muster. It was a huge relief to get through that hour, finish up the obligatory refreshment the maid brought out and get out of there for the serenity of the wide blue sea. There was nothing relaxing in that corner of paradise. Before they left, Grand Mamma had an instruction for her darling boy. Of course Indie didn't understand the fast French, especially as it was uttered in an odd accent she hadn't been exposed to in Hudson High. She petted Damn and appeared to give instruction for his well-being, like put on sunscreen, or the beach version of button up your coat and get a scarf, judging by the way he rolled his eyes.

He accepted Mamma's coddling but was annoyed and took it out on Laurent when he refused to come skiing. It was obvious their tiff was about Laurent's unsuitable clothing for taking to the water, but Damn howled him down louder and louder, so that all the wedding friends stared and Laurent removed his leather shoes and socks and trailed the three down the beach.

“Wait here,” Damn ordered as he strode into the water and dove like a dolphin to swim strongly out to a sleek white and navy speedboat. He made an Olympic quality handstand dive and a minute later emerged from the water with the anchor which he tossed into the boat and hauled himself up after. Every muscle ripping in unison up his arms, across his broad torso, down into his stretched thighs. Sheesh, the man was a demi-god. Indie was mesmerized and her pussy gave a twinkle of agreement as she felt her cheeks bloom hot.

She looked up and saw Laurent staring at her intently. What the fuck was his problem? Sasha waded right out to the boat and pulled herself up on her arms, then swung with athletic grace into the white leather seat. When Damn brought the low speeder as close to the sand as possible, Indie stepped through the water and still hospital-stay weak had to accept a hand up from him to climb in. Laurent dragged his tight designer jeans as far up his calves as possible and climbed in, furious that they were edged wet.

Chapter Six

Sasha came out on the mono-ski first time, finding her balance by pushing her hips far forward and leaning her body back low, all while laughing happily. She bounced smoothly across the wake and took the tow bar in one hand to give them a wave.

“Your turn,” she told Indie, scissoring back out of the water after her twenty minute ride.

“Oh, I'm no good at that,” Indie blundered. “I told you, I've only tried it once.”
And spent the whole lesson getting dragged out of the water when the boat started up and instantly face-planting back in.

“Nonsense, how else are you going to learn. Take the opportunity while Damien can give you some pointers.”

Indie looked at the guy in dark black glasses who appeared to have forgotten she was alive.
I mean really, Laurent and I are a couple of spares only along to make up a faux foursome. Why even bother?

“Yeah, okay,” Damien said reluctantly. “Can you drive the boat?” he asked Sash.

“I reckon I can remember how.”

Even more reluctantly, Indie untied the sarong knotted on her hips and tossed it on the leather bench. She looked up and caught Dam's eyes blazing over her body, lingering on the newly exposed hips, her ass as she bent over.
Pig
. Still, the tug between her thighs had other ideas. “Be careful with her,” he said to Sash who looked like a James Bond Girl at the helm of his boat.

“
You
be careful with
her
,” Sash laughed. And he dove headfirst into the soft warm water while Indie climbed down the steps.

Could she be any more ungainly, she thought, paddling one leg furiously so as not to drown while she maneuvered the other into the ski's foot stirrup. Jee-suss. Crouched with knees splayed up, crotch to heel, heart thounding in her chest, Damn shouted to Sasha to take it easy. The pull came on the boat, Indie pushed her thighs to build resistance to the water and two seconds later splatted face down.

Three more attempts of exactly the same and every ounce of her flesh was set on quitting. Sasha seemed to think it was funny and Damn was getting more and more irritated, telling her over and over, “Push your hips out. Harder. Push harder.”
Shut the fuck up.
  At least Laurent wasn't taking his pleasure in watching her pain. He sat rigid in the back of the boat, doodling in a notebook.

“Push, push, push,” Dam ordered as the boat pull came on the rope and swore under his breath when Indie wiped yet again.

“You aren't pushing hard enough,” he shouted at her across the water surface between their chins.

“Stop saying that,” Indie screamed, furious at the tears pricking at her eyelids. “I'm jet-lagged, I'm hungover and mostly I’m a freaking rookie. Sorry I'm not an expert competitor but I'm doing the best I can so cut me some friggin' slack.”

Damn's face, three quarters above water, pulled back and played a movie scene of emotions before he smiled and fished his way across to her. She turned from him to yank the unwieldy length of wood back to her foot in a rage and a shiver sizzled through her as he put his hand lightly in the small of her back to steady her.

“Hey, you can totally do this. Can I show you?” he said as she swiveled into the unglamorous position of a woman about to drop a kid . “Your legs are too wide apart.”
Sheesh.
“Bring your knees together more.” He put his hand on the sensitive flesh above her knee and it quivered beneath his palm. He was just too close and she was trapped in the stupid ski, sitting in the palm of his hand, literally, all her weight resting on it where it still held her, burning into her back right above the bikini bottom.

“Okay.”
Just breathe.

“Now when you feel the tug, clamp your inner thighs and push your pelvis forward, hard, ram it harder than you think you're able and come out.” From her knee, he'd slithered his hand the length of her thigh in very serious explanation, as though it was the most vital thing in the world to him that she stand up under his instruction. It grazed her flesh all the way to rest on her hipbone as he instructed her to push harder. Her legs were so weak there was no way Indie could have stood on solid ground let alone on water.

“Ready, champ?” The hand on her back moved to her shoulder, his fingertips grazing her neck. It was ridiculous how much she was shivering in the syrupy water.
Focus, girl.
Sasha started the engine again and as the rope pulled taut, Indie felt her body work as one integral unit of smooth resistance. Behind her Damien urged her to push hard and she thrust her hips, clenched her inner thighs downwards and glided to a backwards arc moving forward in the surf.

Exhilaration flushed her veins and she felt indestructible mastering the uncontrollable force of the ocean.

“Wow, wow, wow, wow, wow.” she said when Sash circled the boat back to the starting point. She'd have been leaping up and down with glee except jumping underwater was impossible.

“Not too bad,” Damien said.

“Not too bad? That was friggin' awesome. I done good.”

Sash drew the boat beside them and Indie clambered up the step, upper arms exhausted from the battle with the sea. She collapsed into a leather bucket seat and even grinned at Laurent, she was so proud. He barely grimaced and turned back to watch Damn come out like a bird in flight. He raised his palm in the signal to pick up speed and worked the water like a master. His taut body flexed horizontal to one side, touching his head into the wave before curving back around and jumping high into the air off the wake. Laurent and Indie watched spellbound and even Sash kept turning back from eyes on the road to catch a peek.

“He's amazing.” Indie whispered.

“He tried out for the Olympic team when he was eighteen,” Sasha shouted over the wind rush. “He made it too.”

Indie heard Laurent snort, but he too was mesmerized by Damn's virtuoso control.

He seemed to leap one-handed back into the boat and took the wheel. He drove fast along the coast, accelerating the boat off the crest of the waves and pulled up off the beach, dropped the anchor and they hopped into the water to wade up to a beachfront bar.

“Okay that
was
wow,” Indie said when they were seated, cocktails ordered and Laurent had finally picked his way though the water to join them, still in a huff.

“I am out of practice. How do you say it- rusted?” Damn said.

“Rusty- and no one would have known.”

“Twenty-five years practice.” he shrugged. “My father put me on a ski when I was two.”

“Wow. You too Sash, you were amazing.”

“We just have to get you out every day and you'll be wow too,” she said, with a sideways glance at Damn that implied he'd better offer to take her out in his boat again.

“So, you like art more than sport,” Indie turned to Laurent determined to draw him out.

He shrugged. Damien said something harsh in French to him. “I do not like water,” he muttered.

“That's hard when you live on an island.”

“Laurent is from Paris. He's only been here a month.”

“Oh, I was supposed to be in Paris right now except, um, I just arrived as well.” No way she wanted to open up her past here and now.

“I adore Paris,” Sasha sighed. “What do you do there?”

“He's a designer at Paco Rabanne.”

“Wow,” Indie said. “It's a day of wows.”
You dumbass. You’ve said wow like a thousand freaking times.

“We are opening a fashion company together,” Damn said.

“Wow, that's news,” Sasha perked he interest at the prospect of competition. “What kind of goods?”

“Don't worry, not leather,” Damn said.

“Phew.”

“Some beachwear, tee shirts, stuff for tourists.”

Indie wondered how a designer at a Paris house ended up in tee shirts for tourists.

“If you need a fit model, that's Indie's professional capacity,” Sasha volunteered her friend's services and Indie threw her a glare until Damn turned to her.

“You're a model?”

“Er, yes.” No need to sound so surprised.

“I knew it.”

Fuck. The bloom fired her cheeks again. “Perhaps because I told you last night.”

“I must have forgotten.”
Liar.

Another sleek white speedboat pulled up close to Damien's and a gorgeous couple came up the beach. The girl was tall and lithe, Nordic blonde, while the guy was the same height, muscular lean, Mauritius drop-dead, with a slick of light brown hair.

“
Plein d'oeil
,” Sasha said, eliciting an impatient roll of Laurent's eyes. “Just before sundown the sea goes glass flat, perfect for skiing. Everyone comes out to play,” she explained to Indie. As the couple reached the table, Indie felt Damn stiffen beside her, his jaw set like a vise.

“Damien,” the handsome guy greeted him with a curt nod.

“Marc” Damn said coldly, through teeth gritted to a grind.

“Hi, long time no see.” The girl kissed Damn warmly on the cheek and continued around the table, kissing everyone, French style. Her buoyant smile was so captivating, her boyfriend was obligated by politesse to follow her lead, although he looked as though it was killing him to be within a thousand miles of Damn. As they shook hands, each looked in the other direction, determined not to meet eyes.

“I'm Katelijn.” the girl said, “Have we met before? You look familiar,” she asked Sasha.

“I think I may have seen you at the Lune Noire with Marc on his rare foray in public. You're from Sweden aren't you?”

“Holland, yeah, I'm Dutch, from Amsterdam.” Indie liked the girl's accent and her warmth. “I've been back a week, had to persuade my father to buy me another ticket. Shall we join you?”

Damn and Marc bristled like wolf-pack leaders at the suggestion but she was already pulling up a chair on the other side of Indie and asking when she'd arrived, wasn't it fantastic. She was so authentically friendly no one would have had the heart to refuse her and another round of drinks was ordered.

The foreign girls chatted in English and the men gritted their teeth, exchanging a few words in French. Sasha's phone rang and she moved away from the table to take it.

“Time to go?” Indie asked when she finished, assuming Tolar was hollering for her to come home and deal with her children.

“I'll be back in a while,” she whispered, “Wait for me right here.” She hurried through the bar and out into the hotel reception.

When the perfect water-ski hour arrived, Damn and Marc rose to meet the boat that arrived same time, same place, from a resort down the coast. The guy who gave expensive lessons to tourists all day, ran a lucrative sideline towing the locals.

“You coming?” Marc turned back to demand Katelijn.

“No, I'm going to talk to Indie,” she replied. “I want to make a girlfriend down here.” Marc jogged down the sand to the water. “It get's too much relying on him for all my society,” she told Indie. “It leaves me too open.”

“What's with those two?” Indie asked. “There seems to be some heavy tension going on between them.”

“There is but I was, er, not here when it all happened.” Katlijn looked uncomfortable, especially as Laurent's ears were tweaking. She clearly didn't want to talk too much. “It's sad because they've known each other their whole lives and used to be best best buddies. Something happened though when Marc got divorced and even Dam's father got involved.”

“Who is his father? I met the mother today, or I should say I was in the same room as her. Kind of terrifying.”

“I think it's an act these old French families put on to show their superiority. There's a tight ring of them on the island, here since forever and they think they own the place.”

“Some of them actually do, Damien's father is one of those,” Laurent said, looking up from his notepad.

“Now I'm curious. I wish he'd been home when we were at the beach house earlier.”

“Oh, the beach house isn't home. They've got a massive estate up in the hills.”

“So is Marc's family all French aristo too?”

“Yeah, but loose since his mother ran off, couldn't stand the closed community. His dad is more laid back but still dictates how his sons should live.”

“How is he to you? Because they don't seem fond of outsiders.”

“They aren't, they hate them but he's alright. He likes me better than the last one apparently, who's giving him hell over their divorce.”

“He was married?”

“Is married, to an ex-pat who hooked him and now refuses to let go.”

“It stinks when one partner hangs on when the other is done. There's no changing a mind once it's set. When a relationship ends it's like a switch is flipped and it's just-done.”

“Bad experience?”

“You could say so. My ex in New York is trying to get me back.”

“Well, this is a good place to hide from him. And you've got a powerful protector in Dammo.”

“Oh no, we aren't together. He just took us out for a ski.”
“Uh huh. Dam doesn't take women for a ski.”