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“No.” My lips traced the curve of her cheek to the corner of her mouth. “Because I don’t either.”
I’d replayed and dissected the past three months dozens of times since the photos surfaced. The piano room, the holidays, our first “date” in Brooklyn and subsequent library rendezvous…they were reckless, yes, but they were also the only patches of sunlight in the overwhelming grayness of my life. I hadn’t noticed how muted my world was until Isabella burst in, full of life and color and energy, like a rose blossoming in the middle of an arid desert.
I wouldn’t trade any of my moments with her for all the calm and peace in the world.
I thought I abhorred chaos, but somehow, somewhere along the way, I’d grown to love it.
“What are we going to do?” Isabella whispered. “The Starcould still have people following us…”
“I’ve taken care of that.” The special team I’d hired immediately upon seeing the photos could ferret out a tail faster than a bloodhound could find a bone. It should’ve been enough, but impulse and a desperate desire to wipe the worry from her face pushed my next words out of my mouth. “Let’s go away.”
She startled at my words. “What?”
“Let’s go away for the weekend. Take a break, recharge and regroup.” The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of a strategic withdrawal to somewhere warm, away from prying eyes and the icy claws of the city. “My family owns property in Turks and Caicos. No one will bother us there.”
Isabella stared at me like I’d suggested walking barefoot to California. “We can’t justleave.”
“Why not?”
“Because!” For once, she was the caution to my spontaneity. “You’re already in hot water over the photos. Even if your tail doesn’t follow us there, someone could see us and sell more pictures to the tabloids.”
“They won’t. Trust me.” I nodded at her computer. “You have to finish your book and find a new job. I have to put out a hundred fires and craft a new strategy for the CEO vote. We can work on them together. It’ll be our version of an executive retreat.”
Isabella hesitated.
“You’d be surprised how much a change in scenery can unlock your creativity,” I said. “Think about it. Would you rather work in an overcrowded Midtown café or on a beautiful tropical island?”
“I don’t go to cafés in Midtown. They’re too depressing.” She was caving. I could see it in her eyes. “Are you sure no one will see us?”
“Positive.”
“God, what a fucking day.” She shook her head, a burble of hysterical laughter escaping from her throat. “I woke up, got fired, and now I’m thinking about running away to Turks and Caicos.”
“To be fair, there’s no better time to run away than after getting fired,” I said. “Unlimited vacation days.”
My mouth curved when she let out another small yet genuine laugh. My professional life might have been going up in flames, but the sight of Isabella’s smile had a way of righting my world, if only for a time.
“Twist my arm, why don’t you?” Her eyes contained a lingering trace of sadness, but their usual sparkle was making a slow, steady return. Isabella didn’t see it, but she was the strongest, most resilient person I knew. “If you ever tire of the executive life, you should go into travel sales. You’d make a killing.”
My smile inched up another millimeter. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Now for the real question.” Isabella grinned, and a rush of unsettling warmth filled my stomach. “What does one pack for a weekend getaway in the Caribbean?”
CHAPTER 27
Isabella
When Kai said his family owned property in Turks and Caicos, I’d pictured a breezy beach mansion with wicker furniture and nice gardens. I hadn’t pictured anentire freaking island.
Dubbed Jade Cay for the color of its surrounding waters, the island spanned over four hundred acres of lush vegetation, pristine beaches, and exotic wildlife. The Balinese-style main residence occupied the highest point on the island, offering spectacular three-hundred-sixty-degree views of the Caribbean and all the amenities of a five-star luxury resort. Eight bedrooms, three wraparound terraces, two infinity pools, a private chef who made the most delicious lobster I’d ever tasted.
I could live and die here happy.
Kai and I flew in yesterday afternoon. We spent the night getting settled, but today, we were off and running. The morning had been a blur of writing (me), calls (him), and brainstorming (both of us). Kai was right; toiling over my manuscript in tropical paradise was much better than toiling over it in the wintry hell of post-Christmas New York.
We were currently taking a lunch break on the uppermost terrace, and I’d never felt more relaxed, even with my deadline looming on the horizon like a thundercloud. Here, surrounded by the ocean and sunshine, I could almost forget theStarphotos and getting fired.
Sometime between the main course and dessert, Kai excused himself to use the restroom and returned with a slim black folder in hand.
