Page 7 of The Billionaire's Bad News Baby

The boat pulled up to the island’s dock, next to a fancy-looking sailing yacht that was bobbing up and down in the surf, its sail secured tightly to the mast. Kayla was loath to admit it, but the weather was getting worse by the second. Having given up on trying to speak a jumbled mix of Italian and English, the fisherman just tapped his watch as she climbed out of the boat with the box under her arm.

“All right,” she said, waving her assurances at him and walking as fast as she could up the dock and onto the island proper.

Despite the weather starting to look the opposite of idyllic, the whole place was beautiful and the island itself was way bigger than what Kayla had pictured. A lovely sandstone mansion took pride of place as she power walked up the path. There were plants and trees everywhere, and behind the main building, Kayla could see glimpses of what looked like a vineyard stretching off into the distance. So yeah, when Tony said this guy was mega rich, this was what he’d been talking about. Not some holiday shack and some pool inflatables; a whole mansion and vineyard all to himself.

But between the weather and the fisherman who was her ride back, Kayla was on a time crunch, and if she messed up this opportunity, then this Elio guy wasn’t going to let her get anywhere near him for a second attempt to serve him papers. Not unless she went into full super-spy mode and put on a costume. After the fisherman had taken her for all she was worth, she didn’t really have the resources for that right now.

So she knocked on the front door and hoped for the best-case scenario. But even banging with her fist as hard as she could, it barely made a sound over the mix of ocean waves and the thunder rolling in. Sure enough, no one came to the door. Trespassing onto the island was one thing — in a safe little category where she could just play dumb even if it was legally ambiguous — but opening up the door and walking straight in was out of bounds.

Kayla looked around with the intensity of a crime scene investigator, ignoring the fisherman who was tapping his watch with melodramatic impatience. But then her eyes landed on a neat little cobblestone path, older than the obvious renovations that the place had undergone, leading around the corner of the house through a garden. That looked promising. A mansion like this would have side doors, back doors, patios… And she had tried knocking on the front door.

She held up a finger to the fisherman, just one more minute, and caught him crossing his arms across his chest before she slipped around the side of the villa, her stride confident and feigning obliviousness as she hunted down her prey.

CHAPTER 4

ELIO

The past week had been hell. If Elio hadn’t been advised to head to Italy for legality’s sake, he probably would have made the trip anyway just to avoid the rumors, gossip, and general mayhem that had spread after the party.

Marc had been spot-on about the fallout from this whole thing. Noel Preston had recovered just fine from his choking episode, but he had taken to social media almost immediately, sharing photos of himself in the emergency room and disparaging Elio while he was at it. Apparently, it was Elio’s fault that a pit was left in one of the olives that had been served as part of the canapés. Apparently, it was also Elio’s fault that Preston had seemingly just inhaled the whole thing instead of chewing like a normal person and had thus choked on the pit. And what did you know, apparently he’d swallowed the pit as the waiter gave him the Heimlich, so there was no evidence remaining of the supposed choking hazard. Which was just brilliant.

One thing Elio knew from growing up in high society was that people would latch on to a scandal, no matter how small, like sharks swarming a drop of blood in the water. It was one of the many reasons he didn’t like parties.

He’d caught the next available flight out of New York and headed to Italy, straight to his private island, never more grateful to have dual citizenship in his life. His lawyer was handling the disaster zone that was the frontlines back on U.S. soil, but the man thrived on it, so Elio had no worries for him whatsoever. Marc had instructed him to delete all social media, which he had done promptly and gladly. He wasn’t to answer any phone calls without caller ID, especially any coming from the States, and no personal emails, not that Elio got many of those, only work-related. And if any of those seemed iffy, he wasn’t to open them and, instead, forward them to Marc for clearance. Preston seemed to be on some sort of rampage for justice over a stupid olive pit, and Elio pretty much had to go into hiding to avoid getting sued.

But he would be just fine on his island. Frankly, part of him was happy to have the excuse to sequester himself away instead of staying in New York to do more schmoozing for the Oro launch, even if the weather wasn’t exactly welcoming and looking worse by the second. He had everything he needed to work remotely: staff to take care of the house, the gardens, the kitchen, all of it. If he was going to be driven into exile, there were far worse places to serve his sentence. Though right now, he truly was completely alone. The staff had gone home for the day — far earlier than they normally would have. The storm that had been forecast was on the horizon, and the housekeeper, Gianna, didn’t want to be cut off from the mainland for however long the disaster was going to last. This time of year, it could be a while before a storm like this blew over. Elio sent her off, relieved to know that she would be safe and sound and that he was the only one on this island.

And then, just when he was starting to truly relax for the first time in days, a knock sounded at the door. Well, there went the good mood. At first he ignored it, hoping it was a trick of his increasingly paranoid imagination and sure enough, the sound stopped after another minute. It was probably just the wind throwing some sticks against the door or something. It was certainly starting to pick up out there…

A knock sounded on the glass door that led out into the garden beside the study, and Elio nearly hit the roof with how high he jumped. A woman stood right outside; she was tall, in a plain navy T-shirt, skirt and sneakers, with a cardboard box under her arm. She smiled widely at him as he looked through the glass at her and even waved a little, motioning for him to open the door.

In moments where any sort of threat was evident, flight or fight was supposed to take hold, right? But Elio, his heart still hammering in behind his ribs from the fright she’d given him, was stuck between the two, frozen to the spot and staring with a slack jaw out at the woman.

She wasn’t wearing a uniform, not really. She looked like she’d come from a laid-back sort of office, her hair braided up around her head with random curls being tugged at by the wind. Usually, when Elio had a knock on a side door from a random stranger, they were dressed in coveralls or similar fare with a bag of tools or a rake in hand. But she just looked, well… she looked kind of lovely. Really lovely, actually, and it somehow made this whole situation far stranger.

She rapped her knuckles gently on the glass once again and motioned at the box she was carrying. Elio, despite himself and despite his knowledge of how horror films usually worked, stepped forward and opened the door just enough to poke his head out.

“Ciao!” she said cheerfully with such a thick accent that Elio immediately knew that she wasn’t Italian.

“Can I help you?” he asked in English, testing his theory.

“Yeah, are you Elio Morelli?” she asked, switching to English without even seeming to think about it, which was weird in itself.

Elio opened the door a little wider and looked around. No one else was in the garden and he couldn’t see the dock from this area, so maybe it really was just some random woman and not a whole team of lawyers waiting to tackle him to the ground. Or maybe all of Marc’s paranoia about legal ramifications was starting to rub off on him. Weirdos still existed in the world, whether you were getting threatened with lawsuits or not.

“This isn’t the front door,” he said flatly, still set off-kilter by this whole situation.

“Yeah. I knocked there and no one answered,” she said with a shrug and a lazy smile.

“So you traipsed through my garden?”

“Ah-huh, and I found you!” She giggled and smiled, pleased with herself. Was she all there upstairs? Because Elio was starting to wonder if maybe she had escaped from a secure location…

“Look, I…” He trailed off as he noticed her eyes, one deep brown and the other bright green. He’d never seen eyes like it before. Was she wearing contacts or was he the one having some sort of psychological breakdown?

“Heterochromia,” she said, pointing to her eyes in a well-practiced gesture. “Genetics are wild, huh? Oh my God, sorry!”

She slapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m supposed to use Italian. Uh… Ciao. Mi chiamo…”

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