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“He’s tough and demanding. Not everyone can hack it working for Logan. But if you can prove yourself to him, he’ll take very good care of you. He pays well, and there’s benefits out the wazoo. And…” She trailed off, as if not sure how to phrase what she had next on her mind.
“What is it?” I asked. “Sorry, kind of being nosy.”
“No, it’s fine. You have a right to know what sort of man you’ve hooked yourself up with.”
She had no idea how accurate those words were. Pearl opened the front doors.
“Logan can seem like a hard man. Hell, he can seem like a real prick at times. And I tell him when he’s out of line. I’m probably the only member of the staff who has that right with him. But he’s different than you might think. He actually gives a damn about us, and not just as employees. He always gives time off for family matters or anything else that might come up.”
“That’s sweet of him.”
“You have no idea.”
With that, the tour of the main building began. Pearl showed me everything—from the massive, industrial kitchen to the movie theater downstairs, to the private grotto and up to the rooftop party area. The place was like nothing I’d ever seen before, a true palace on an island. We reached my room at signaling the end of the tour. It was a perfect, little one room suite with a sitting area, a huge bed, and a balcony with a view of the trees below and the ocean beyond, a pool right below me.
“This work for you, kiddo?” Pearl asked.
“This works,” I said with a grin, ready to get the month started, the ocean breeze gently blowing in past the linen curtains. “This works just fine.”
Chapter 11
Logan
It was her scent.
It was day two of Emily living at the mansion, and though I’d only seen her in passing, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. She flitted through the house like a spirit, the only traces of her being a vanishing glimpse around a corner, or her laugh echoing down the hall.
But most of all, it was her scent that drove me wild.
I’d step into a room and it would be there, lingering in the air, that faint aroma of lilacs and lavender and something sweet. I didn’t know if she wore perfume, but something told me it wasn’t that—it was something more natural.
On one hand, I was relieved that the estate was big enough where I could go an extended period of time without seeing her. After all, how the hell would I be expected to get any work done with such a distraction? On the other hand, I found myself strangely… missing her. I couldn’t think of the last time I’d so keenly felt a woman’s absence. Typically, it was the other way around—women with whom I’d had brief flings trying their best to get me to make time for them.
Being on the other side of such a situation was odd. Minutes ticked by as I watched the waves roll in, the third floor of myoffice affording a sweeping view of the water and sand below, all the way to St. Thomas in the far distance.
A knock sounded at my door, the noise snapping me out of my daydreaming. The firm rapping let me know right away that Roberto was there.
“Come in.”
The door opened, Roberto silently stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. His expression was blank and impassive, all business.
Something was up. I straightened in my seat and gestured for him to take one of the chairs across from me. Roberto sat down, placing his hands on his knees and sitting up straight, as if awaiting my command.
“You wanted to speak with me?” I asked.
“I did. I’ll get right to the point. My men have spotted a strange boat that we believe has been making circles around the island. I don’t like the looks of it.”
“A boat? What kind of boat?”
He leaned over, reaching into his bag and taking out a manilla folder. He rose and set it on the desk. I wasted no time opening it and taking a look inside.
The folder contained five photos. The craft looked to be mostly inconspicuous, a simple motorboat that appeared to me like a United States Coast Guard vessel.
“Coast Guard?”
Roberto shook his head. “That’s what they want you to think. Look closer. Look at the men on the ship, and the identifying markers.”
Holding the pictures in front of me, I brought them closer to my face. A knowing grin spread as I noticed what he was referring to. The logo, which at first glance appeared to be that of the Coast Guard, was actually quite different, but almost impossible to tell when one glimpsed it. The crew’s aviatorglasses made them look like Coast Guard members, but their casual clothes gave away that they were anything but.
