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Vivian flopped onto her bed. She lay with her arms spread out and stared up at the ceiling. Whoever had fitted out the resort with linen certainly knew their way around a luxurious duvet and soft as a cloud mattress. It was pity they couldn’t change the weather.
Her day hadn’t gone according to plan. The day trip out to Grand Bahama had been undertaken in choppy, rough seas. They were two hours out from port when the captain of the boat made the decision to turn around and head back to harbor. Vivian’s stomach and hastily downed breakfast had barely survived the journey.
“At least I’m now back on dry land. No more boat trips.”
Her hopes for a sunny day visiting one of the islands of the Bahamas and wandering through the local markets, taking in the sights, had been dashed. The sky was still an odd inky blue, but through the enormous windows of her hotel suite she caught the occasional glimpse of scattered patches of pale aqua. The weather was slowly improving.
Dinner at the resort’s beach restaurant wasn’t entirely out of the question. It was early afternoon, so she and the sky still had time to come good once more.
Her eyelids grew heavy. When they fluttered closed for the fifth time, they stayed closed. A little cat nap was exactly what she needed.I’ll just grab a half hour of shuteye.
Ten minutes later, her cell buzzed. It went to voicemail.
* * *
Patrick greeted Bryce on the tarmac at Teterboro Airport a little before nine o’clock. “Good morning, Bryce.” The soft grin on his face spoke of someone who was in the know about the reason for the sudden turnaround trip this morning. Bryce pretended not to notice as they headed for the jet. He’d specifically asked Mia and Sheila to stay quiet, but Patrick wasn’t stupid, he’d obviously been able to put two and two together.
Bryce handed Patrick his travel bag. It was full of freshly laundered and pressed clothes. He’d checked, no one had mistakenly given him a popstar tour t-shirt.
Jordan was acting really weird about that shirt. Hmm.
“I have checked the weather in Florida, Mister Royal. Sorry, Bryce. There was a little bit of cloud earlier in the day and a few spots of rain, but it has all cleared. The pilot informs me that we should have good weather all the way down the Eastern Seaboard, and he says he hopes to be touching down in Palm Beach a little after one o’clock local time.”
“Thank you, that sounds perfect. Could you please let the pilot know I am not sure how long I will be in Florida? I expect it might be close to a week. I hope you have packed for a lengthy stay, Patrick. I trust that won’t be too much of an inconvenience.”
Patrick’s grin transformed into a broad smile. “A week in Florida. Sun and sand. I think I will be able to muddle through.”
Bryce boarded the jet. The sooner they had wheels up, the quicker he could be in Florida.
And the sooner I can see Vivian.
CHAPTERFIFTY
Vivian slowly opened her eyes. She stared up at the golden light which bathed the ceiling, taking in the various hues of bright oranges, and yellow. “You can’t beat the wonder of a sunset,” she murmured.
A golden sunset.
She sat bolt upright, pausing for a second while her head caught up. Staring out the window, her gaze settled on the waters and the reflection of the sun’s last dying rays.
“Shit, I was meant to be taking photos of the resort!”
Her fingers roamed over the duvet searching for her phone, but they came up empty. Rising up on her knees, she patted the bed clothes. Nothing. “It has to be here somewhere.”
It was only when she finally spotted the black rectangle on the floor beside the bed that Vivian remembered having left it on the edge of the mattress. “Ah, there you are.”
Scrambling off the bed, she picked up her cell. The front screen happily noted fourteen messages and five missed calls. “What?!” With a racing heart, she swiped the phone open. Every app seemed to have at least ten notifications. While she had peacefully slept the afternoon away, the rest of the world had apparently been busily trying to reach her.
Grace was the first person Vivian called. It went straight to voicemail. She glanced at the time, it was close to seven o’clock. Then she remembered what day it was. “Oh shoot, it’s Friday.” Grace would be at her weekly physical therapy session until sometime after eight.
The next missed call was from an unknown number. She considered ignoring it, but the number had called three times while she had been asleep. It had to be important, even telemarketers were not normally that insistent.
Vivian hit call. The phone barely had time to make its first ring before a female voice gushed down the line. “About freakin time, Vivian Holte. We’ve been trying to get hold of you all afternoon. Where have you been?”
“I’m sorry, who is this?” she stammered. The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.
“Mia! Don’t tell me you have already forgotten me.”
Mia. Oh, of course. Mia.
