Page 48 of Shackled

“Where are we?” she whispers. “I thought maybe Iceland or Nova Scotia, but it’s impossible to tell from this height. And it looks warm, not cold. Thank God,” she mutters.

“Mmm. It’s impossible to tell even now. There are thousands of uninhabited, remote islands.”

We land on what looks like a private helipad near a grand villa. It’s perched on a cliff that overlooks the craggy rocks of the ocean below, but to the east lies a white sand beach. God, it looks like fucking heaven, and I’m going to enjoy the hell out of this, our brief reprieve before we’re thrown back into the fire.

“Bermuda,” she murmurs. “I bet we’re on one of the islands of Bermuda. Only a few hours from New York, it’s the only place I can think of that would be warm and sunny this time of year.” I watch as her lips curve upward in a grin. “Find me now, Javier.” When she flexes her pretty, delicate hands with well-manicured nails, I imagine for a brief moment she has them sharpened into claws, ready to tear him apart with her bare hands. I blink and she looks delicate and gorgeous again.

No… delicate is the wrong word. Isabella never looks delicate. Fit. Lean. Stunningly beautiful and decidedly feminine. But delicate? Never.

We take our bags and exit the helicopter.

“Thanks,” I tell our pilot.

He nods and, without a word, gets back inside to head back. I take our bags and walk toward the large villa in front of us as the helicopter rises, the blades chopping in the air, and leaves.

“You think we’re the only ones here?”

I shake my head. “I fucking hope so.”

“No one to cook for you? To make your bed? I can shoot a gun, Lev, but domestic duties…”

“My mother raised me to be a man, not a boy,” I tell her with a smile. “Yeah, I can handle this shit.”

Isabella shrugs a slender shoulder and smiles. “We don’t need staff, do we? There’s a certain appeal in being alone on an island.”

But when we enter the villa, it does appear we’re alone. This place is a masterpiece of modern architecture, somehow perfectly fitting with the natural beauty of the island. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer panoramic views of the ocean, and the interior is furnished with elegant but simple decor.

“My mother would cluck her tongue at all the white and beige, you know,” she says with a smile. “Though I like the ocean inspiration with the accents.” Outside furniture of white wicker features shell decor and pale blues and greens. The clean, simple lines give the place an elegant, pristine look.

All I care about is that it’s well-furnished and isolated, perfect for keeping her close and safe.

As we step inside, I watch her take in our surroundings. Her eyes widen slightly, and I can tell she’s impressed, even if she doesn’t want to show it. A place like this must contrast with what she’s familiar with at home.

I take out my phone, not surprised to find I have four bars and Wi-Fi. My brother would never send me to a place where he couldn’t reach me the second he wanted to. I shoot him a text.

Mikhail: What the fuck happened???

We took down an enemy helicopter. I’ll get her to tell me who they were later but obviously, we know it was the cartel behind it.

Shit. Glad you made it safely.

All good at home?

We’re fine. Couple of dumbasses tried to stir shit here but Viktor handled it. Mom never even knew

Perfect. Any staff here?

No. I thought you two would be better off and enjoy it more if you were totally alone. I had specific instructions left when the staff vacated to make sure you have a relaxing stay. Nothing to worry about. You’ll find everything you need at the front desk. You two fucking earned it.

Thank you.

Stay in touch

I turn to Isabella. “We’re the only ones here. Mikhail says there are instructions for us up front.”

She grins. “Alone, on a gorgeous island, hidden from our enemies and stranded with my hot, dominant husband who has a vow to consummate our marriage and knock me up?” She taps her chin. “Hmm. Let me think about this.” She pretends to think for a minute before she pumps her fists and hoots. “Woot!”

I watch as she runs to the front desk, where normally, staff might check us in. She picks up a white sheet of paper. “Oooh, look here, Lev. This is what Mikhail was talking about.” She reads in her beautiful voice.

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