Page 13 of His Curvy Castaway Obsession - A Man Who Knows What He Wants

Michal holds my hand over himself with his own. “I want more than your hand on me, Zoe. I want all of you.”

I feel myself flushing deep red to compliment my disheveled look, hearing my own breath quicken in time with Michael’s. I want him too, but I feel so confused right now.

“Once we get to the island, we can have some more time… alone.” He promises, and I feel the threat of this moment disappearing, but when he leans in to kiss me all over again, I forget about everything. It’s just him, that smell of his and those god damned muscles, rippling under his suit, which is looking a little more wrinkled by the time we’re done deciding that although I quit, the boat’s left the pier and there’s still a whole day ahead of us, so I get myself cleaned up in his cabin’s bathroom and ready myself to go back out there, to have a good time watching others have a good time. That’s what I tell myself.

“Thanks, Zoe. I’m proud of you,” Michael says, pulling me close again, right before we go back out, but limiting himself to a light peck on my lips only, so as not to spoil my newly made face as well as prevent any further delays or crippling stiffness in his tuxedo trouser department, which is already bulging again.

A few stiff nods to other crew and security, and Michael’s donned his dark glasses again, looking across the ocean, or what feels like right at me, I can’t tell as I get back to making sure Mr. Parker’s guests are suitably happy with their trip so far.

There’s no complaints and if anything, everyone is extra nice to me, easily forgetting what happened and making plenty of small talk about other things. Better things.

In between tidying up and noticing how much everyone is easing off the booze in favor of coffee and cakes by the time we sight the island, I overhear what the island’s actually all about.

I tried getting the inside scoop from catering, but they’re too busy prepping for the food run once the guests get to the island to really pay any attention.

Mrs. Bradshaw though, she likes a natter after a few drinks and I know she’s a kind old lady, even if she is obscenely rich.

I glance over to Michael, who nods it’s okay if I want to sit with Mrs. B for a while, everyone else is admiring the yacht itself, or busy on their laptops and phones, including Michael more than once, so I soon see it’s a pretty laid back affair after all.

“I feel bad about before, embarrassed more than anything,” I tell Mrs. B. Who suddenly feels like my rich aunt or Grandma.

I wish!

“It’s alright, dear. That little upstart… new money we like to call it.” She informs me confidentially.

“Well, we don’t like to call it anything. But acting like that… and on a Parker Global trip too!”

“What’s your connection… to Parker I mean,” I ask. Not meaning to sound nosy, but deliberately being nosey.

Michael’s tight as a drum about things, I can just tell. It’s part of his job. And everything I’ve heard about Parker Global, or the man himself has just been hearsay. This is as good a chance as any to find out more about the man as well as exactly where we’re going.

I kinda ran out on Ranka at the agency, distracted by Michael’s looks, I most likely missed everything she told me that I’m supposed to remember.

“The Island’s a future development… we’ve all put money into it and it’s Mr. Parker’s way of updating us… in his own quirky little way, I guess. No stuffy boardrooms or shareholder meetings in town halls, no. Parker Global distinguishes itself, Mr. Parker distinguishes himself by being a true gentleman and a gracious host. “

“Even if he never turns up?” I ask cheekily, drawing a shocked look, followed by a sly wink from Mrs. B.

“Call me Fanny…” she says, touching my arm again and for the second time today, I feel like someone actually gives a crap. Not just about me but about people in general.

Maybe the world isn’t so bad after all. Maybe sloshed, foul-mouthed new money Barbie doesn’t rule the roost after all.

“What sort of development,” I ask Fanny, hoping she doesn’t mind me being nosey now.

“Retirement condos!” she cries out, then wipes a bead of moisture from one of her eyes with her lace handkerchief.

“I don’t know if I’ll even live to see them, let alone live in one, but… for my sons… an investment for them and their generation.”

I smile, checking the other guests at a glance, noticing Michael’s eyes on me still as he talks into his phone.

“Could you help me inside, Dear?” Fanny asks. “Awfully cold out here now and I really wouldn’t say no to a little sit down in a corner for a bit, maybe even close my eyes for a spell.”

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