here, but after Hurricane Helena came we had to rebuild everything. I actually prefer the look of this. It feels less intrusive. Come on, I’ll show you around.’
Inside the villa, Addie had to pinch herself. It was luxury on a scale she’d never imagined, let alone seen. Five years ago Malachi had been wealthy, but his casino empire had only just started to expand, and although the money had been there it had been in the background. Gazing round at the state-of-the-art kitchen, at the understated glamour of the lounge area and the marbled luxury of the bathroom, she started to realise just how much he had changed over the last five years.
Watching her eyes widen at the sight of the huge open-plan living area, with its linen-covered sofas and vases of frangipani, Malachi felt his stomach twist. In the way of all wealthy and sophisticated people, most of the men and women of his acquaintance would have made a concerted effort not to notice, much less remark on their surroundings. But why? What was so wrong about being open and honest?
His eyes narrowed. He must have been out too long in the sun if he had to even ask himself that question. And while it might be amusing—charming, even—to listen to Addie go into raptures over the view from his bedroom window, it reminded him why their relationship had failed. Why it could never have worked. Her fervour for life was fine when carefully managed, as part of the overall package he had envisaged for their marriage. It had even played out well with the media, giving him a new, warmer, more caring image. But that was where it should have stayed. In public. He had no use for uncontrolled emotional outbursts in his private life.
No use for it.
No understanding of it.
And definitely no need for it.
‘What’s that over there?’
Addie’s voice broke into his thoughts and, turning, he looked towards where she was pointing, over the lagoon to a wavering white line cut through the verdant foliage.
‘I think it’s a waterfall.’ He squinted across the water. ‘I seem to remember there being one.’
She frowned at him. ‘How can you not know if there’s a waterfall?’
He frowned. ‘I do know. I just can’t remember if that’s where it is. I haven’t been round the island for years. When I stay I don’t generally bother leaving the villa. I don’t need to. There’s enough to keep me entertained here.’
She gritted her teeth. By ‘enough’, he clearly meant some eager, sexually responsive female companion. It was a surprisingly unwelcome discovery, although she hadn’t for one moment imagined that he had been single for the last five years. But did he have to rub in that fact here, now?
‘If you’re expecting some kind of sexual Olympics then I think you might be in for a disappointment,’ she said tartly. ‘Maybe you should have brought whichever woman you normally come here with instead.’
He stared at her in silence and then, smiling slowly, he leaned forward. ‘You’re the first and only woman I’ve ever brought here, sweetheart. The first and only I’ve ever wanted to bring here.’
It was true. He usually only visited the island on his way to or from a business trip, and he had certainly never brought a woman. Not even his mother. Especially not my mother, he thought grimly.
‘I come here four or five times a year. As a reward for sitting through interminable discussions with people I’m only meeting so they remember my face.’
He smiled at her slowly, and suddenly her mouth was dry and her heart was pounding against her ribs. People didn’t forget a man like Malachi King, his dark, restless gaze and pure, clean profile. And they always remembered his slow, devastating smile. She knew just how far someone would go to make Malachi King smile like that—and how much they would be prepared to sacrifice.
She had the scars to prove it.
The watch on his wrist made two small beeping noises and, grateful for the chance to break free of the tension swelling between them, she took hold of his arm and turned it gently.
‘Is that the time?’ she said quickly. ‘No wonder I feel so hungry. Why don’t we go down and I’ll see if I can rustle up something to eat?’
Frowning, he pressed his hand against his forehead. ‘I completely forgot. Leonda told me she’d left us some lunch. Nothing fancy, but I’m sure it’ll be delicious.’
It was. A three-course cold buffet, all exquisitely presented. Leonda had also thoughtfully provided a handwritten menu, listing all the ingredients.
‘I can’t believe I offered to cook,’ Addie groaned, gazing down at her plate.
‘You didn’t.’ Biting into a barbecued rib with guava and tamarind, Malachi raised an eyebrow. ‘You offered to “rustle up something”.’
He was impossible to resist. She tried to frown, but ended up smiling. ‘You tricked me. You said she enjoyed cooking.’
His grey eyes gleamed. ‘And she does. She also happens to be a Cordon Bleu trained cook who enjoys “creating dishes which combine colonial and Caribbean influences”,’ he drawled. ‘Or so it said on her CV.’ Grinning, he leaned across and speared a small, golden parcel. ‘What is this?’
Addie glanced at the menu. ‘It’s coconut and shrimp tempura. It’s delicious.’ She sighed. ‘I think I’ve eaten about forty already.’
He glanced across the table. ‘Only another seventy to go, then.’ He grimaced. ‘I’m afraid Leonda seems to think I don’t eat between visits, so she always cooks enough for a small army.’
Putting her knife and fork together tidily on her plate, Addie gave him a small, careful smile. As if her feelings were as easy to arrange as her cutlery. In her head being alone with Malachi had seemed quite straightforward: there was the sex and then there was everything else. She wasn’t deluded enough to pretend that she wouldn’t enjoy the sex part, but she hadn’t expected the talking, the just being together to be anything other than extremely trying.
Only sitting opposite him now, it was hard to feel like that. Not just because he was stupidly good-looking, but because he was such effortless company. He was bright and well read and, mixing as he did with the rich and the famous, he had an endless supply of amusing and salacious stories.
But, while she might not hate him as much as she would or perhaps should, she needed to make sure their relationship had recognisable boundaries. Sex, by necessity, involved some amount of intimacy—maybe even a certain amount of tenderness. But this—the being together part—required her to be no more than civil. In fact, now might be a good time for her to introduce a more formal, less personal tone to their lunch.
Picking up her water glass, she took a breath and said quickly, ‘Thank you.’
There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes as they met hers. ‘For what?’
‘For bringing me here. It’s lovely. Truly.’ She glanced out across the lagoon. ‘So how did you find this place? I mean, it’s so hidden away.’
He shrugged. ‘It was an accident, really. I was actually looking to buy a yacht.’
She stared at him dazedly. He spoke about buying a yacht as though it
