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The man accompanying me is straight from a men’s magazine. He is brutally attractive, the kind that stars in your nightmares and you shouldn’t want, but you just can’t help yourself.
He is yelling success from the rooftops because he has an aura surrounding him of untouchable power that I’ve never seen before. Many women would find that attractive. It terrifies me. He is nowhere near as beautiful as Adonis and there is no spark in his eye, no emotion, and no acknowledgment. He has a cruel beauty. As if God was playing with the devil the day they created him together.
I shiver as he says in his husky accent, “Hold on to my arm. Make sure you look terrified and pretend you wish you were anywhere else.”
Pretend! No need for any pretense around here. I am freaking terrified. Of everything. Even myself at this moment because if I trip, or have a wardrobe malfunction, it will cost him millions.
We are heading to a boat moored off the marina and there is a kind of marquee attached with black and gold drapes. A gold carpet is laid out and as we move along it, there are flaming torches on either side. A uniformed man stands on each corner and as we enter, we pass through some kind of screening process.
Through it all, Mikhail says nothing at all and maintains an indifferent air that I am trying so hard to emulate.
As we near the staircase to enter the boat, Mikhail pulls from his jacket a gold foiled envelope.
He hands it to the woman checking them, and she nods respectfully.
“Good evening, Mr. Romanov.”
He nods but says nothing as we pass, both of us silent as we attempt to blend in with the crowd.
At least I try but Mikhail couldn’t begin to blend in. He is one tall, ferocious warrior, even in a black dinner suit. The bond villain masquerading as James himself and we could well be starring in one of the movies right now.
We head onto the boat where a waitress hands us a glass of champagne and I try so hard not to react to the sheer white toga she is wearing. No underwear required is right. I can see everything, and I am trying so hard not to stare because she is sprayed gold underneath, and it’s actually quite impressive.
As I glance around, there are more of them. Beautiful women sprayed gold, wearing a sheer white toga that doesn’t disguise what’s underneath.
Mikhail moves across to the rail and stares out to sea and I stand beside him, not really knowing what I should be doing right now.
After a few minutes, he says softly, “Follow my lead. Play the victim and we will be assured of success.”
“The victim?” I gasp, too curious to be scared to speak, and he leans down and whispers, “Remember, Hosea likes them vulnerable, frightened, and sexy as hell. You score on all three points, and I can understand why the Constantines were concerned.”
He shifts closer and to anybody watching, it must appear as if we’re kissing as his hand cups my face, disguising the fact he is whispering against my lips. “Phoebe will be by Hosea’s side if he follows the usual routine. Hosea must choose you for this plan to work.”
“But…” I am so scared, and he whispers, “He will not touch you. Remember, trust is your best friend on that island, and you must believe in it.”
He pulls away and I can breathe again. Just his handprint on my face is burning my skin. I thought Apollo and Adonis were scary, but this man is something else.
He turns and stares out to sea again, and my heart is heavy when I think about Adonis. He obviously decided I wasn’t worth it. Too much trouble and just out for kicks. He was so wrong. There was something deeper about our connection. I felt it and I know he did, too. I feel cheated out of our time together, and yet I treasure the moments we shared. It all happened so fast I couldn’t get my breath, but there was something so familiar about him beside me. Almost as if I’ve known him all my life and yet we weren’t given that chance.
I just wasn’t good enough.
It must be ten minutes later the boat engines fire up and we move slowly away from the jetty. This is it. I’m officially screwed, and I really hope that doesn’t become a reality.
We don’t speak as the boat travels the short distance across the bay and I stare in wonder at Madeira Island as we approach.
It’s as if it’s on fire. Flaming torches are everywhere and fairy lights give the impression this is a celebration. It’s not. It’s a freaking nightmare that I may never wake up from.
As we get closer, I see a huge mansion set back from the shore. It’s lit up like Cinderella’s castle, but the colors are black and gold. This is how the billionaires play, and yet I can’t imagine either of my brothers heading here voluntarily. This is serious stuff and the people accompanying us on this boat don’t appear to be the kind who will be happy with just fine wine and dancing.
I don’t miss the predatory stares and the eyes burning into my back. Their companions all appear to be mail order because I doubt there’s a wife here among them. This is how the big boys get their kicks and I expect there will be no boundaries tonight. It will be an evening of debauchery where no rules apply, and I’m the fool who thought it would be easy to offer my services.
Mikhail ignores everyone and continues to stare out to sea, and as we dock at the small jetty, I prepare myself for my descent into hell.
We are the first to leave the boat. Perhaps Mikhail positioned us here on purpose because as the steps appear, we are the first to take them and he offers me his arm as we step off the gently moving boat.
We follow the gold carpet along a walkway flanked by the usual flaming torches and head toward the main entrance that is set behind an impressive entrance of marbled pillars.
Even in the darkening night, I can tell this mansion has been crafted to resemble a Greek palace and I note the white marble statues of the gods staring at us as we make our way past them.
