Page 49 of The Billionaire's Baby
I nod, want to say something in reply, but honestly, my throat is dry. The boat climbs up a wave, slowly…slowly…like the ascent up a rollercoaster—that first part, when you know they are simply setting you up, taking you higher and higher—then a pause, and the boat seems to hurtle down. Another scream boils up, and I bite the inside of my cheek to contain it. I am a strong, career-driven woman, who has built my life to be exactly the way I want—that’s why I am still single at thirty.
Gah. Stop that. Now’s not the time to think about the mistakes of the past. As my life coach had mentioned, you do what is right for you in the moment and it is the right decision, always. And yes, I have a life coach. Cliché, I know, but it seemed the best way to visualize the kind of life I want—a career, a family, and a man… Okay, I had hoped for a man, but honestly, after the kinds I’d met in my twenties… Not that there was anything wrong with them, but none of them had what I was looking for—that kind of animalistic attraction combined with sensitivity; a mixture of dominance and the ability to give me enough space to find myself… Know what I mean? Well, that was until Arpad… And he… Well, our very first encounter had been enough to convince me that I certainly didn’t want him in my life.
I have no time for men who think they own the world and any woman they meet, and insist on taking charge. A car can’t have two drivers, right? And I am the driver in my life. So, what the hell am I doing clinging to his broad back while he steers the yacht?
I loosen my grip, just as a screeching sound fills my ears and the boat seems to go into freefall. My heart pounds in my throat and a low moan escapes my lips. I lock my arms more tightly around his waist, squeeze my eyes shut as the boat hits the bottom of the wave-valley with a thump, then begins the journey all over again, and again. I lose count of the number of times the boat rises and falls. With each descent, my stomach plummets. With each ascent, my heartbeat seems to fill my ears. Sweat beads my palms while a ball of panic bubbles in my chest, and grows bigger, wider, until it seems to fill all of me. I plaster myself to him, squeeze my eyes shut, draw in one breath, then another, then block out the sound of the wind, the waves that scream and try to get to us, the creak of the boat, the groan of the various components of the vessel as they resist the elements, and try to hold on. I cling to him with all of my strength.
Hours pass… Or maybe they are just minutes. I must have dozed off… How could I? In the middle of that storm? Is it because I’d felt so safe with him? Because I knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to me? That I could be in the middle of a world gone crazy and he’d still protect me? My protector. My savior. Mine.
"Karina?" His voice reaches me and I shrug it off.
"Sparks?" Warmth seeps up my arm from where he’s dragging his knuckles up the side of my forearm. He grips both of my hands in his and squeezes. "Time to wake up."
"Wh…what?" I flicker open my eyelids and stare at the scene through the large windshield in front of me. We seem to have docked at a wooden jetty that juts out on a calm sea. On either side, we are surrounded by mountains. Clearly, we are in some kind of inlet shelter. Exactly the kind that would protect us from the elements.
Beyond that, a pebbled beach stretches up to a line of trees. "Where…where are we?"
"We have to go." He tugs on my wrists and I lower my hands. When I step back, my knees buckle. He turns and grasps my shoulders. "You all right?" His blue gaze takes in my features. My stomach flip-flops again. A warmth spans my chest, then slides down to my core.
"Karina?" His voice is impatient. "How many do you see?" He holds up two fingers.
"Two," I mutter, “and yeah, I am fine. Just a little shaky."
"Understandable." His forehead furrows. "We were lucky we managed to get here before the storm hit, but we need to get off the boat."
He walks out of the cockpit and into the living area, heading to the closet at the far end. He pulls out a backpack—already packed, by the look of it—and heaves it over his shoulder. Then he swings the strap of a gun—a gun?—over his other shoulder.
"What’s that for?" I nod toward it as he walks back and grabs his mobile phone and charger from the counter.
"It’s a flare gun." He grips my hand and pulls me out of the door of the cockpit and onto the deck. He bends, grabs the bowline and swings it out and onto the pillar that protrudes from the jetty. With a tug, he secures it, his movements smooth.
I watch as he steps off the boat and onto the jetty. He holds out his hand, "Come on."
I hesitate.
A gust of wind blows over me and whips my hair back from my face. "Karina, come on," he orders. "Jump, I’ll catch you."
I glance down at his outstretched palms, then up to his face.
I swallow, not sure why my heart is racing, why it feels like if I take this step, I’ll lose myself forever. Why the hell am I being so fanciful, huh? I measure the distance between the boat and the jetty, then spring forward. He plucks me from the air, his hands warm and solid against my waist. Placing me on the ground, he grabs my hand, then turns and sets a brisk pace up the jetty with me in tow. The flare gun is hooked over his other shoulder as we head across the sand.
"The gun," I clear my throat, "do you think you’ll need it?"
"Probably not." He forges forward through the gathering darkness. "But it’s best to be prepared."
"Ah."
He casts me a sideways glance. "You don’t have to worry. I’ll take care of you."
That’s exactly what I’m worried about. I am not used to feeling this helpless, this dependent on another person. And somehow, we’ve ended up here on an island, just the two of us…and... "Where are we anyway?" I take in my surroundings—the pebbled beach beneath our feet, the waves crashing on the shore behind us. The wind picks up and buffets us. I lean into it, trying to push my way forward. His grip firms and he pulls me along. Clearly, the breeze is no deterrent for him. "How did you find this island?"
"I own it."
Of course, he does. Considering I am the security consultant for his business, you’d have thought I’d know about it. Apparently, not. How many other secrets does this man have, huh? I take another step, stumble—because, of course, the shoes are too big for me—and he rights me. Then, the first drops of rain hit me. He speeds up. "Come on, let’s get inside before we get drenched."
I allow him to haul me away from the beach, up the flat grassy slope and through the tree line. We walk fast until we reach a clearing. There, in the middle of the space, is a single-story structure with sloping roofs and large windows.
We walk up the pebbled path to the door. He releases my hand, then places his palm on a flattened board next to the doorway. Nothing happens for a second, then the door swings open.
