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BOOK 8
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2024-10-29 19:42:56Related chapters
Being Yours BOOK 8
Alex woke in the early hours of the morning, uncomfortably aware of the throbbing in her ankle. For the briefest moment she wondered where she was, but then everything came flooding back to her as she reached out and switched on the bedside light. Seeing pills and water on the table, she realized that Matt must have come into the room while she was asleep, and she was filled with embarrassment at the thought of such an intimate action. Somehow her plan to work hard and play hard while keeping all emotional involvement at bay seemed to be falling about her ears before it had even begun.With a sigh she swallowed the painkillers and, recognizing that she was unlikely to fall asleep again very quickly, used her one good arm to plump up the pillows behind her head. She looked around the room. All the furniture was carved pine, and the sprigged and ruffled curtains and bedcovers reflected the cream and blue bathroom, as did the square rug on the pale, tiled floor. It was a pretty room with
Being Yours BOOK 8
Christina was in a bad mood when she returned Alex to her apartment an hour later.“I don’t understand why you must stay here when you could stay with me and I could look after you,” she complained.Alex smiled at her ill humor. “The doctor said I was fine, that I just need to rest my ankle for a week or so. He even said that I have to thank Matt for providing exactly the right treatment; so the best way that I can do that is to stay here and get on with my work. And it won’t be a problem. The apartment is all on one level, so I won’t have to strain my ankle; plus, I have enough food in the cupboards to last at least a week.”Although Cristina disapproved of the plan, she could see from the expression on Alex’s face that she had made up her mind, so she changed tack. “In that case I will visit you every day so that I can check on your recovery and make sure that you are eating properly.”“You’re a dear!” Alex told her, leaning heavily on her arm as she carefully inched her way down th
Being Yours BOOK 8
On the sixth day of Alex’s forced incarceration, Conchita arrived as usual, except that this time she was hidden behind an enormous bouquet of flowers. A surprised Alex took it from her, wondering, for one heart-stopping moment, if it was from Matt. She had tried not to mind the fact that he hadn’t once telephoned to see how she was. Common sense told her that he was busy and that, anyway, Conchita would keep him up to date with her progress, so she was surprised at how disappointed she felt when she saw that the flowers were from Francesco Pascual. The writing on the accompanying card was black and bold and full of flattery as well as good wishes for a speedy recovery. He had printed his phone number under a flamboyant signature.“He came to the office to invite you to lunch,” Conchita explained with a twinkle in her eye. “So naturally I was forced to tell him about your injuries, and within two hours he had delivered this to your desk with strict instructions that it should be conve
Being Yours BOOK 8
Alex was still in her robe when Conchita telephoned early the next morning to tell her that Matt and Rufino were both free at eleven o’clock and would come to meet with her. She gave an inward groan as they scheduled a meeting. Although she wasn’t going to admit it to Conchita, she was very definitely the worse for wear this morning, the result of foolishly drinking coffee far too late in the evening and then not getting enough sleep. She glanced at the clock above the kitchen counter. Ten o’clock. That didn’t give her much time to get ready.She hurried into the shower and, in an attempt to wake herself up, let the water splash over her until it began to run cold. Then she pulled on a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt and twisted her wet hair into a tight topknot. A quick glance in the mirror assured her that, despite her late night, she didn’t look too bad. Eating and working outside over the past week had tanned her skin to a smooth golden brown, so she needed only a dab of blusher
Being Yours BOOK 8
For the next few days Alex reverted to working long hours. Once she had scanned in her hand-drawn visuals, she concentrated on tidying them up. When she was satisfied, she started to develop some of her other ideas. She also started to contact Matt’s suppliers to arrange appointments for the following week, when she was sure that her ankle would be sufficiently strong for her to return to the office.Overall she was pleased with how things were going. Although she was used to working on deadline, she couldn’t remember another project where her ideas had flowed so smoothly. She was eager now to return to the Alcaszar and irritated that she couldn’t yet because of her damaged ankle. She was determined to buy herself some sneakers. Those and a pair of flat, sturdy sandals would be far more sensible than the high heels she normally wore, except in the evenings, of course.The thought prompted an image of Francesco, and she sighed. He telephoned her every day, sometimes twice a day, and wh
Being Yours BOOK 8
When Francesco’s car horn sounded outside the apartment at eight o’clock, Alex picked up her evening bag, took a final look at herself in the mirror, and then sashayed down the path, fully aware that she looked her very best. This was reflected in Francesco’s eyes as he held open the car door.“Such a beautiful senorita,” he murmured, his fingers lingering just a little too long on her back as he helped her into the ridiculously low bucket seat of his sports car.Alex smiled as she watched him walk around to the driver’s door. After their recent argument, to say nothing of the mortifying incident of the towel, she had determined, once and for all, to put any thought of Matt right out of her mind and enjoy herself. To that end, she had treated herself to a single glass of wine while she waited for Francesco to arrive, hoping that it would help her relax.Although fjie journey to Playa de las Americas was still pretty hair-raising, Francesco did tone it down slightly, so that when they
Being Yours BOOK 8
When they pulled up outside her apartment, Alex gave Matt a tremulous smile. She felt more composed now, although from time to time panic still shuddered through her at the thought of what might have happened without his intervention.He returned her smile. “Give me your key, and I’ll unlock the door and switch on the lights.”Obediently she reached for her evening bag and rummaged for her set of keys. They weren’t there. She upended the bag onto her lap and desperately sorted through the contents, pushing her purse and lipstick to one side, inspecting a packet of tissues, moving a half-eaten tube of mints. Nothing! Not a single key!Matt turned on the interior light as she scrabbled on the floor in case the keys had fallen out of her bag when she got into the car. Finally she had to admit defeat. “I can’t find them,” she said, tears dangerously close to the surface again. “I know I put them in my bag when I set out.”Hearing the wobble in her voice, Matt didn’t say anything that woul
Being Yours BOOK 8
Alex woke to the sound of a heavy thud outside her bedroom window. It was followed by angry voices, and she hurriedly stumbled out of bed and, for a second time that night, peered through a slat in the blinds.Two men were walking away from the apartment, and the taller of the two appeared to have the other in a viselike grip. When they reached the pavement, he opened the door of a car that was parked at the side of the road and bundled his victim inside. Alex had a brief view of both men as the interior light came on. One was short and dark and looked vaguely familiar. The other was Matt!She rubbed her eyes in disbelief and then looked again. There was absolutely no doubt about it. Although she couldn’t see his face, the tilt of his head and the breadth of his shoulders as he stood beside the car were so achingly familiar that she felt weak at the knees. What was he doing outside her apartment at four in the morning? She had seen him drive away at least a couple of hours earlier, an
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Being Yours BOOK 9
Lohano Tiki drove his bright yellow Ferrari up the long gravel incline and parked in front of the huge pillared portico that was the entrance to the Black Orchid Palace.He climbed out of the car, and quickly ducked down to check his hair in the wing-mirror.Good. Nicely wind-ruffled and carefree.A handsome, square-jawed face looked back at him, tanned a deeper colour by the desert sun.By the Nevadan desert sun, to be exact.His shirt was dazzling white and casually opened at the throat to reveal a strong dark column of neck and the first few wisps of dark chest hair.His jacket was white linen, faultlessly tailored, his slacks a dark green. His loafers came from Rome. His only piece of jewellery was a modest, leather-strapped watch from Switzerland.He was dressing to impress Koki’Hana as much as his rebellious and strong-willed granddaughter.He sprang lithely up the four rounded steps, that were spread out like a fan and led to the huge, impressive, carved oak doors of the palace
Being Yours BOOK 9
George Dixon watched the large crocodile of people emerge from the intermediary house by the east wall.As the owner of fifteen per cent of the Orchid House, he’d been asked to attend the full day’s festivities, of course, but he’d only just decided to put in an appearance.It was three-fifteen p.m.The extra waiters and waitresses hired for the lunch had been circulating in the grounds all afternoon, laden with trays of champagne, fruit juice and little nibbles. He hijacked a waiter and grabbed a glass of cold Moet et Chandon and a few smoked salmon pastries that melted in the mouth.He was lounging against the fountain that was the centre-piece of the outer grounds. Round, made of stone, and full of fish and water-lilies, it shot a fountain of water nearly thirty feet into the air.It was cooler there.George didn’t much like the heat. He was a small but very fat man, with a round belly and short, stocky legs. He could only imagine what the heat must be like inside the hot-houses.G
Being Yours BOOK 9
King Koki’Hana reached the end of the welcoming line, and finally shook hands with the last person to be presented - a tall, thin Portuguese man, whom Electra had introduced as their head groundsman. It was his job to keep the gardens outside the glasshouses looking good.Koki’Hana quite liked meeting the people who made businesses tick. Oahu, like all the islands, was a large ethnic mix of people - Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Filipino, Polynesians, Portuguese and American. Here at the Orchid House, he was pleased to see that Electra Stapleton’s only criterion for picking her staff was their having the right qualifications for the job. He operated a similar policy where his own business affairs were concerned.‘Well, Alii Koki’Hana, I’m sure you can see now why the Orchid House is such a success,’ Electra said quietly. ‘My staff are simply the best in the world.’ She said with it quiet pride but total sincerity.King Koki’Hana nodded. ‘So I see. And you are rapidly expanding, I underst
Being Yours BOOK 9
Bevis expertly aligned the small light aircraft with the portable runway lights Electra had lit ten minutes ago, and lightly touched down. He taxied neatly to the end of the runway, turned, and then parked the plane near a stand of hua trees, where it was partially hidden.He went through his checklist, making sure all the systems were shut down, then locked the cockpit, grabbed his overnight bag, and jumped lithely to the ground.At thirty-eight, he looked a good ten years younger, and still retained the well-built but fat-free body that would be the envy of many men his age. His short hair was still as dark as a raven’s wing, with not a hint of grey at the temples.He gathered up the landing lights, turning them off as he went, and stowed them away in their small wooden shed, hidden in the small copse of trees, padlocking the door after him.During the short walk to Electra’s luxurious bungalow, ‘Makai Hale’, he ran a tired hand through his hair. It was good to have a break from the
Being Yours BOOK 9
Electra stroked the damp copper hair off his forehead and looked around desperately. There was only the diminishing storm, darkness and fear. She couldn’t move him - she wasn’t strong enough to get him into her car. Besides., she didn’t know if she should move him, and wished she knew more basic First Aid.She felt as if she’d been cradling the stranger in her arms forever, but it had actually been less than five minutes since the lightning strike.The rain had been gradually dwindling, and now had stopped altogether, but she could still hear the distant rumble of thunder, away to the east, as the storm headed out to sea.Suddenly another sound began to impinge on her mind, and she looked up hopefully as a small set of lights dipped and disappeared in the distance.A car! At last!Coming from the same direction as she had been. Somewhat belatedly, she realized her own car was still blocking the road, and she carefully lowered the stranger’s head to the ground and got to her feet.Her
Being Yours BOOK 9
Hawaii, or the Big Island as it was known to the locals, played host to fewer tourists than its sister island Oahu, but boasted similar moutainous lush greenery, great surfing and multi-cultural dining, all with the added bonus of spectacular black beaches, courtesy of the volcanoes.A mountainous land of plantations, myth and Polynesian mystique, it slumbered like a giant emerald in the vast blueness of the Pacific ocean.However, Hilo, its major city, was as big, busy and cosmopolitan as any city in the developed world.The Big Island, like all those in the chain, also had its fair share of hotels and tourist resorts, but, unlike Oahu, it still relied heavily on the more traditional sources of money, such as fruit plantations and coffee, to fill its coffers.Near the pretty village of Kailua, set well back in the coolness of the hills, away from the hustle and bustle of hotels and shops, lay the impressive and sprawling edifice of the Black Orchid Palace.No higher than two storeys,
Being Yours BOOK 9
Electra Stapleton turned the last page of the contract she was reading, and initialled it in the right-hand corner. She’d made a few important changes, and she made a mental note to herself to get one of her lawyers to draw up a revised draft.Not that Nationwide Flowers Inc. would complain. She’d given them all they wanted, but had cleverly slipped in a few little goodies that would be beneficial to the Orchid House too.For instance, ensuring that their chain of florists used one of the Orchid House’s flowered wrapping sheets whenever they sold one of their orchids. The free publicity that would generate would save her hundreds of thousands of dollars. And cost Nationwide Flowers not a penny.She was a bit worried about the shipment date, though; it was rather tight. She reached for her computer keyboard and punched up the details on the company’s regular transporters. Before she’d taken over, the Orchid House had had only one - a privately owned aeroplane company that had shipped a
Being Yours BOOK 9
Haldane Fox glanced up as the oddly melodious 4 ping 5 echoed around the cabin.‘Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. We are now beginning our descent to Honolulu Airport. Please observe the “No Smoking” signs, and “Fasten Seat-belts” signs. Your cabin crew will be around to help anyone having difficulty with their belts. I trust you enjoyed your flight with us, and wish you all a pleasant stay on Oahu. Aloha'Haldane sighed wearily and reached for his seatbelt. It had been a long flight, from London to New York for a short stopover, then on to LA for yet another stopover before the long haul across the mighty Pacific Ocean to the fabled Hawaiian Islands.He yawned widely, trying to shrug off the fast-approaching affects of the dreaded jet-lag.A stewardess, the same one who’d been serving him throughout the flight across the pacific, lingered by the side of his seat.‘Everything alright, sir?’The soft voice made him spin his head and look up. The stewardess’s smile caught in her th
Being Yours BOOK 8
By the time they arrived at the hotel, the security gate had been forced open, and a fire engine and two police cars were in the parking area. Apart from the fact that the firemen had broken down the main door, to all other outward appearances the Alcaszar appeared to be untouched. It wasn’t enough to stop Matt from leaping from the car and running across to the main doors where a group of firemen was standing, though.By the time Alex joined them, however, he appeared to be calm. “It’s only damaged the courtyard,” he told her. “Apparently it started among the wood that was stacked there, probably caused by a careless cigarette butt. They say it’s probably been smoldering for hours.”From the tone of his voice Alex knew immediately that he didn’t believe it was accidental but that he wasn’t prepared to talk to the police about his suspicions. She glanced up at him. His eyes had darkened to the steely gray that she now knew from experience was a sign that he was very angry. She took hi
