Only now she was going to spend a month on a private Caribbean island. With Malachi. A man whose touch had tormented and tamed her.
She breathed out slowly.
She was almost certainly going to regret this trip. But those few snatched moments of release in the limousine had at least proved to her what she’d known but denied for so long. That she wasn’t completely over Malachi; that in some intangible, incomprehensible way she still felt married to him.
She winced. Put like that, it sounded mad. But she wasn’t living under any delusions. This ‘honeymoon’ wasn’t some last-ditch attempt to save their relationship. Quite the reverse, in fact. It was a coda: a bittersweet and fitting finale to a marriage that had never been quite what it seemed—to her, at least. At least this time their relationship might actually be more straightforward, more honest, despite, or maybe because it involved a simple trade-off: sex for money.
This time her heart was definitely off limits. This deal would only involve her body—and only for a limited period. And, of course, a large amount of money.
She zipped the bag shut.
Did that make her shallow? Mercenary. Immoral.
No, it did not, she thought defiantly.
She’d never asked him for anything. Not a single cent. And she still hadn’t. This was for her charity. But seeing him again had made her realise that she couldn’t keep avoiding the past. Finally she was ready to bring an end to all the years spent wondering, hoping, aching. And that meant being with her husband one last time. She let out a long, slow breath. So why not make the most of it?
After all, there were a lot worse ways to spend a month than being on a private island with a sexy, handsome billionaire.
At the thought of Malachi’s island she felt a flicker of fear. How was she going to survive the two of them being alone on a deserted island?
By sticking to the rules. Kissing was almost unavoidable and, knowing Malachi, if he thought she was trying to avoid kissing him he’d simply see it as a challenge. But there would be no touchy-feely stuff—the sort of things couple did without thinking—because this was a business arrangement and there was no point in blurring the boundaries.
She also expected to be treated with respect. Okay, he had the money, but this arrangement was only going to work if she made it clear that while her body might have a price she, Addie, was beyond even his wealth. The remnants of her pride required that she demand that at least.
And if it all got too unbearable she could always catch a plane back to Miami. She wasn’t so destitute that she couldn’t afford an airfare home!
Beside her on the bed her phone vibrated and, picking it up, she glanced at the screen and felt her heart jolt. The car would be arriving in twenty minutes. Just enough time to dry her hair and find her passport and double-check that Carmen knew she was in charge of the office for the next four weeks.
Thirty minutes later, wearing a short navy wraparound skirt and an embroidered cream silk blouse, she was sitting in the back of the limousine, trying her hardest to look as though it was something she did every day of her life. Tucking her legs to one side, she glanced down at her high-heeled navy court shoes and frowned. She hardly ever wore heels outside of work, and they were not the most practical footwear for a beach holiday, but she wanted a reminder of why she was there: a private nudge to herself that this was not personal but business. And, anyway, she needed the extra height if she was going to square up to Malachi’s six-foot-two frame.
Feeling the car slow, she glanced out of the window and saw that they’d arrived at a large private airfield. And then her breath seemed to lodge in her throat as she saw the sleek white plane, emblazoned with the King Industries logo, gleaming on the runway. Beside it a line of stewards stood, waiting on the tarmac, all looking as though they’d just stepped out of the pages of Italian Vogue, and suddenly she felt like a rather unprepared understudy about to step on to a West End stage.
Who were they expecting? What had Malachi told them?
She would soon find out.
As the limousine swung smoothly to a stop and the door beside her opened she took a deep breath, swung her legs out of the car and stepped onto the tarmac.
Immediately the nearest steward walked swiftly towards her, smiling. ‘Good morning, Ms Farrell. My name is John. I’m the chief steward on this flight and I will be taking care of you today. Welcome to King Airlines.’
Inside the plane, Addie had to clench her jaw to stop it from falling open. She’d flown before. She’d even been upgraded to business class once. But this—
Trying not to gawp, she gazed slowly around.
It was not like the interior of any plane she’d ever travelled on. Rather than banks of seats with a central aisle, there was a large open-plan lounge area that spanned the width of the plane. Between huge leather sofas, vases filled with freesias stood on top of mirror-topped tables. There was also a bar!
Five minutes later she was sitting at one end of a sofa, sipping a perfect cappuccino from a fine bone china cup, when a door at the end of the cabin opened and Malachi sauntered towards her across the carpet.
‘Sorry, sweetheart. This trip of ours has thrown quite a few balls up into the air. I needed to meet with some people just to make sure somebody catches them while I’m away.’
Before she had a chance to reply, he dropped down onto the sofa beside her and in one seamless movement took the cup from her unprotesting hands, jerked her onto his lap and kissed her so deeply that she came up gasping for breath. He tasted of sunlight and oranges, and despite the chill of the air conditioning his skin was warm.
‘I missed you.’
His eyes were fixed on her lips and his face was so golden and perfect that for a moment she couldn’t even remember how to speak, let alone what to say. She looked up at him warily as he grinned down at her, the brightness of the day lighting up the shards of silver in his eyes.
‘This is where you’re supposed to say, I missed you too!’ he said softly.
She felt her insides tighten, every inch of her body responding to the pressure of his arm curling around her waist and the teasing note in his voice.
‘It’s only been two days.’ She arched an eyebrow, hoping that she appeared more composed than she felt. ‘You survived five years before that.’
‘How do you know I survived?’
Something flickered across his face, too fast for her to catch.
‘Maybe I was confined to bed. Weakened and distraught.’
‘Then somebody very like you was out and about in Miami,’ she retorted tartly. ‘Attending civic functions and charity dinners. You might want to look into that when you get back. Identity theft is a serious business!’
His eyes glittered. ‘I’m flattered you kept such a close eye on my whereabouts—’
‘I did not—’ she protested, but her voice frayed, the hot seam of words unravelling as his hand brushed against her blouse.
‘I
