Page 2 of Savage Beauty

“What’s your name?” His deep voice bears a distinct accent, but it’s not Caymanian. European?

“Where are you from?” His smile widens, exposing crooked teeth and a missing incisor. When he doesn’t smile, he resembles a book cover model. When he smiles, the urge to back up stirs. His shadow darkens the tile all the way to the toes of my running shoes.

“Belarus.” Caymanian, Jamaican, Filipino and British are the four most common nationalities in the Grand Cayman Islands. Belarus is an outlier. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing inside on a gorgeous day like this? You belong in a bikini.”

A vacuous comment from an aesthetically pleasing male. Predictable. “Do you have business with Origins?”

“More or less.”

My gaze traverses his halfway unbuttoned shirt, worn jeans, the thick black leather belt, and the holster with the grip of a pistol. A firearm can be legally owned on Grand Cayman only with the express consent of the Commissioner of Police, and on Cayman Brac and Little Cayman with the express consent of the District Commissioner, after a thorough application and vetting process.

He does not look like one of the investors from last week. Those men wore business suits. They didn’t wear ties, but on the islands, ties are often set aside. Their suit jackets were pressed. And they wore polished leather business shoes. This man’s shoes are not polished.

“Are you a police officer?”

“Do I look like a police officer?” He grins, but it’s a closed-lipped grin. It’s a better look.

“What will it take for me to get you out of the office? To enjoy the sunshine. I’ll take you for a ride on my sailboat.”

“I don’t go on boats.”

“Are you afraid of boats?”

“No.” I need space, so I take a step back. “An estimated one hundred million people go on boats for recreational purposes in the United States. It’s estimated there are over four thousand boating accidents each year, but only approximately five hundred deaths worldwide. The chance of death is statistically insignificant. I suffer from motion sickness.”

“Have you been to the marina?”

“No. I moved here for work.”

He grins, but I look away quickly to avoid those teeth.

“The weekend has almost passed you by. Let me whisk you away for a glass of wine overlooking the marina. We can watch the ships pass from the safety of the dock.”

“I’m supposed to call my sister soon. Sunday is the day we do our video call. I need to be back at my apartment.”

“I promise you, I’ll have you back.”

“Why?”

He chuckles, and his hands rest on his waist. There’s a noticeable bulge in his crotch.Intriguing.

“Like I said, I was passing by and saw a beautiful woman, and I thought to myself, ‘she needs fresh air.’”

The outline running along the side of his zipper means he might have an erection. Horny or drunk? I don’t smell alcohol.

It’s been months since I had sex. William returned to Switzerland after getting a better-paying job with one of our investors. Sex with William was fulfilling. Since William, I’ve been relegated to my vibrators. My gaze flicks over to a supply closet where William and I used to regularly have sexual intercourse.

I don’t have relationships, but I enjoy sex. It’s been a long time since I’ve had an orgasm with something other than my fingers or a vibrator. I have spare condoms in my backpack.

My screensaver plays across my screen in twisty, vibrant hues. After my call with Sage, I’ll re-read the report. Dr. Kallio won’t read it until the morning.

“Okay.”

“Yes, you’ll go with me?”

“Yes.” I nod, save my report on the server, disconnect my laptop, and place it in my backpack. “To the marina.”

“Is that everything you need?”

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