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His yacht too had been the last word in sophistication and glamour.
But the island?
The island was something else.
The moment they stepped off the boat, onto the Marina, she began to see the tell-tale signs of wealth. Security cameras mounted discreetly on poles that lined the beach. At the end of the marina, there was a golf cart, and a man in a dark grey suit stood waiting for them.
He said something to Guy in Spanish, words that were spiced and warm, and Guy nodded. Addie’s stomach swirled with nerves as she took her seat in the back of the vehicle. Nerves trebled when Guy slid in beside her, his powerful leg pressed to hers, his face angled resolutely ahead, so that when she risked a glance in his direction she caught only the edge of his autocratic profile.
The afternoon sun was lowering in the sky, turning from bright yellow to a golden red, and the sky itself was transforming as well. Blue was giving way to a deep violet, and orange was streaking along beside it, trying to catch the last of the warmth.
The man in the suit started the golf cart with a purr and moved it easily along the beach, to a clearing in the white sand that led to a wooden boardwalk. It was bumpy beneath them as the cart drove parallel to the ocean, sweeping along beside it, until the path turned inland.
Here, there were more subtle signs of wealth. The path was lined with hip-height lights which, at night, would cast enough of a glow to be able to safely navigate the island, and delightful flower beds were perfectly tended, creating splashes of neat colour out of nowhere. On they travelled for at least two miles, climbing higher and higher, until finally the cart entered a clearing in the coastal scrub, a large patch of neatly manicured lawn with a perfect example of a Mediterranean garden leading to a house that was pure Calatrava, with its sweeping white-box shape, enormous glass windows, jutting balconies, and striking construction. It looked like a cube, but not a cube, with many little shifts and recesses in it that served to create interest. There was also a particularly enthusiastic bougainvillea scrawled up one side, breaking up the severity of the crisp whiteness of the building, and adding a touch of wildness to the setting.
Addie hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until it escaped her in one long, soft sigh.
Guy’s head tilted towards her, she could feel his eyes boring into her. “You like it?”
“Oh, it’s beautiful.” Stupidly, tears pricked her eyes. She reached for her sunglasses and
pulled them down, placing them on the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know why, but the house makes me feel… it makes me feel.”
Guy’s eyes were watchful, scanning her face for several seconds before he shifted his gaze back to the house. “It is supposed to. The house is a work of art. Art should make you feel.”
“It shouldn’t look so perfect, but somehow, it seems almost cast from the earth that surrounds it.”
His brows lifted at her perceptiveness. “Much of the stone was quarried from the eastern side of the island. My grandfather was adamant that it should reflect this place.”
“When was it built?”
“In the seventies.”
“It’s striking.”
“Si.”
The driver had already vacated the golf cart but now he reached down and opened Addie’s side door, so she stepped out, unable to take her eyes off the building.
There was a powerful fragrance that she hadn’t noticed at first, so captivated was she by the visual beauty of the home. But she breathed it in now, tasting orange blossom and jasmine deep in her lungs.
“I don’t know if I’d ever spend my time anywhere else, if I were you.”
“I used to feel like that.” His lips twisted in a tight smile, so at odds with the way he’d once been that her heart twisted in complaint. What she wouldn’t do to feel the warmth of his attention, as she’d used to. To see his smile reach all the way to his eyes.
“You don’t now?”
“My company cannot run itself, and I certainly can’t run it from here.” He put a hand under her elbow, guiding her towards the house. To her right, another clearing opened and she saw several more golf carts, each with a small Rodriguez logo marked on its door. There must have been at least twenty of the vehicles.
Addie lifted her face to Guy’s thoughtfully. “That’s a lot of golf carts for a place without a golf course.”
“Why do you think there isn’t?” He prompted, his smile sardonic.
Addie’s mouth dropped. “There’s a golf course on the island?”
He shrugged. “My grandfather built the island as his bolt hole. It has everything he could ever want. A golf course, cinema, helipad, stables, race track…”
“Wow.” Addie shook her head slightly from side to side, this intimate view of how the other-half lived leaving her with a growing sense of amazement. Frustration too, when she thought how the last five years had been such a struggle for her. How could there be such wealth in the world when there was also such poverty?
