once the door closed behind him. Everything about that place was so feminine, he couldn’t walk inside without feeling like a bull in a china shop. It was more than the tiny instructors that he seemed to argue with the second he asked after the owner. There wasn’t a single pink thing in sight, but the place was always packed with women.
None of that was a bad thing, but the looks they gave him—as if they expected him to go on a rampage at any moment—and the subtle flinches they made if he moved too fast... It grated. It wasn’t their fault, and he applauded what Allie Landers was doing there, but their behavior left him painfully aware of how big his body was by comparison to theirs, and of the fact that no matter how carefully he spoke or how expensively he dressed, he was still a goddamn animal beneath the suit.
He didn’t let anyone see it, but those women sensed it all the same.
A predator.
It didn’t matter that he’d chop off his hand before he raised it to a woman or child. To them, he was a threat.
Roman cursed and started down the street. He should hail a cab, but he needed to work off his aggression more. The long strides helped clear his mind and ease his agitation, leaving nothing but cold purpose in its wake.
This Allie thought she could skip town for a week and ignore the fact that his deadline was bearing down on them. Two weeks until she had to make a decision, or other investors would make the decision for her. Normally, Roman wouldn’t hesitate to play dirty, but his client wanted Allie to agree to the contract without him putting on undue pressure. An impossible task. He had a healthy bonus waiting for him if he could pull it off, but that was secondary. His client wanted full acquisition of the business with the shelter intact—the women in the shelter would scatter if they thought it was a hostile takeover. They trusted Allie, and they sure as fuck wouldn’t trust him.
All of it boiled down to his needing the damn woman to go along with this buyout and he couldn’t convince her to get onboard if she wasn’t here.
But he had a location.
Roman fished his phone out of his pocket and did some quick searching, his frustration growing when he realized that the resort was booked for the next year straight. The website promised a discreet paradise, which translated to the staff being unwilling to move things around to accommodate him. Since giving him guest names so he could offer his own incentive was against company policy, he’d hit a dead end.
Only one thing left to do. He called his best friend, Gideon Novak. “Hey, don’t suppose you have any connections with West Island in the Caribbean?”
“Hello, Roman, so nice to hear from you. I’m doing well, thank you for asking.”
Roman rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I’m being a prick. We both know that’s not going to change. The island. It’s important.”
The slightest of pauses on the other end wouldn’t have been there if he hadn’t fucked things up royally six months ago. He and Gideon were mending that bridge, but rebuilding the trust was slow going. It didn’t matter that Gideon understood where Roman was coming from—Roman had still almost cost his friend the love of his life, Lucy.
Finally, clicking sounded on the other end of the phone. “I haven’t dealt with the owner specifically, but I’ve placed two separate clients with his company and they’re both still working there.”
It was better than he could have hoped. “I need one of the villas.”
Another pause, longer this time. “Roman, if you need a vacation, book it yourself. I’m not a goddamn travel agent.”
“No shit. This isn’t pleasure—it’s business. I need to find a guest arriving today. And offer the owner of the reservation a truly outstanding amount of money to reschedule. The resort won’t give out that information to me, but if you have an in, they’ll give it out to you.”
“This better be really important.”
It wasn’t a question, but Roman had nothing to lose at this point. “Vitally. One of the businesses I’ve been trying to court for months is coming down to the deadline. If my client doesn’t invest first, the other wolves circling will. They’ll damage the integrity of this place and do irreparable harm to people’s lives as a result.”
“Sounds like you’re playing the hero. A new look for you.”
“Fuck no. I’m in it for the bottom line, and the bottom line is that with the right spin, this place could be making a significant amount of money, and the good press that comes from it being connected with a women’s shelter would go a long way to opening doors to me that have previously been closed.”
Gideon snorted. “Whatever you have to tell yourself. Give me thirty.”
“Thanks.”
His friend hung up without saying goodbye. Gideon would come through for him. The man was an unstoppable force, and Roman counted himself lucky to have him on his side.
Sure enough, thirty minutes later, a text came through with the reservation details—and the significant amount of money to be wired to the owner of the reservation he was co-opting. Roman wasted no time sending the money and booking the first flight out of New York.
He had seven days to track down Allie Landers and convince her to see things his way. How hard could it be on an island with only ten villas on it?
ROMAN TOOK FIVE minutes to change and stalk through his villa, getting a feel for the place. It was all vacation luxury, heavy on the driftwood furniture and big open spaces to maximize the view of his private beach and the foliage that surrounded three quarters of the building.
And therein lay the problem.
He should have anticipated that an island with only ten villas would play heavily into privacy, but with the various activities open to all guests, he’d anticipated there would be plenty of time to find Allie and make his argument.
He hadn’t figured on not knowing which part of the island she was on.
He strode onto the beach and looked around. The natural curve of the island created a miniature bay that blocked out the view of anyone else. There were bicycles and walking paths to get to the main buildings, where there was a restaurant, a bar, a yoga studio and a boutique gift shop. He could hang out there and hope like hell that Allie would venture in for a meal, but with the option to have dining brought to the villas, he didn’t like his odds.
No, better to get the lay of the land and plan accordingly.
A quick examination of the storage unit right off the sand—designed to look like a weathered shack—gave him the answer. There was gear for a variety of water sports. He considered his options and went with the kayak. It was the fastest way to get where he needed to go and stay relatively dry in the process. He shucked his shoes off, paused and then dragged off his shirt, too. The summer sun should have made the heat unbearable, but as he pushed the kayak into the water, it was damn near pleasant.
Roman hadn’t been on a kayak before, but it seemed easy enough. He experimented in paddling until he got a good rhythm, then set off, heading south around the island.
