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Fate had worked against him. Shortly before the lodge had been completed, before Pascha had been able to make things right between them, Andrei had died. He’d gone to bed and never woken up. A heart attack.
The man who’d raised him as if he were his own, who’d worked his fingers to the bone to give Pascha the chance to live, the man Pascha had walked away from...had gone. He’d lost the opportunity to apologise and make amends. He’d lost the opportunity to tell him that he loved him.
His grief-stricken mother...
Pascha’s apology and remorse had washed right over her. His words had come too late. He should have said them when Andrei was alive. Aliana Island was just a possession; it meant nothing to his mother, not when she no longer had her beloved husband to enjoy it with.
But, while he might never be able to make amends with Andrei personally, he could secure his legacy. It was the only thing he could do. And if he was successful...maybe then his mother would forgive him. Their relationship could be repaired—he had to believe that.
‘Do you spend much time here?’ Emily asked, thankfully moving the conversation onto safer territory.
‘Not as much as I would like.’
The yacht had been brought into a lagoon and moored alongside a small jetty. A panelling in the side of the yacht unfurled to reveal metal steps for them to disembark from. Pascha strolled down the steps and made his way up the jetty.
He was sorely tempted to get Luis, the man he employed to skipper his yacht, to take him straight back to Puerto Rico so he could take his jet directly to Paris, his next destination. However, he’d been awake for over a day, having flown from Milan to London in the early hours. He needed sleep. If there was one thing Pascha did not mess around with, it was his health, and sleep was instrumental to it.
The odds of the illness which had threatened his life as a child returning was miniscule, but a miniscule chance was worse than no chance at all. Sleep, exercise and a healthy diet were all things he could control. Controlling them lowered that miniscule chance, putting the odds even more in his favour.
He’d planned to sleep on the flight from London but for once had been unable to, his awareness of the proximity of his guest having made it impossible for him to relax. He kept catching wafts of the perfume Emily had applied before he’d finally got her out of her bedroom. Her scent was delicious, an earthy smell with a touch of honeyed sweetness his senses responded to of their own accord, much to his annoyance.
He needed rest, and for that he’d need space. He would have a quick meal then get his head down—eight solid hours to recharge his batteries—then leave at first light.
He followed the pathway, traversing the beach up to the main entrance of the lodge, aware of Emily following behind him. Valeria, his head of housekeeping, was there to greet them.
After exchanging pleasantries, he said, ‘Please show Miss Richardson to her guest hut and show her where everything is. Are we okay to eat in an hour?’
Valeria nodded. His unplanned visit hadn’t fazed her in the slightest. Under normal circumstances Pascha would give proper notice of a planned visit so she could prepare for it. Today she’d had roughly twelve hours to get everything ready, but from what he could see everything was in hand.
When he stepped into his hut, everything was exactly as it should be, not a speck of dust to be seen. Before heading to the bathroom, he stepped out onto the veranda and breathed in the salty air, closing his eyes as he willed the usual peace he found on Aliana Island to envelope him.
With Emily Richardson there, he suspected peace would be a long way off.
* * *
If Emily’s eyes were capable of widening any further, they would have. Connected to the main house by a set of dark hardwood stairs, her hut looked more like an enormous high-end luxury cabin than anything else, with floor-to-ceiling windows that opened up to give a panoramic view, not just of the island but the surrounding ocean. The entire front section of the hut was one huge sliding door. Steps led out to a private veranda with a dining table, then down to a balcony with an abundance of soft white sun-loungers. More steps led down onto the beach.
After a quick discussion about Emily’s dietary requirements—apparently there were three chefs on site to prepare whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted—Valeria left her to settle in.
Alone, Emily tried to take it all in, but she was so overwhelmed by her hut, her surroundings, the fact that Aliana Island was a private paradise...
And this was her prison. A jail with a four-poster bed.
It felt as if she’d been plunged into the middle of a fantastical dream.
In the far corner of her hut was a roll-topped bath. She longed to get into it but felt too exposed with all the surrounding glass. Instead, she opted for a shower in her bathroom, which was mercifully private, then changed into a pair of three-quarter-length skinny black trousers with silver sequins running down the lines and a silky grey vest top. She applied her make-up with care. She’d always adored wearing make-up, loved the way it could enhance a mood. Today it felt as if she were applying battle armour.
