‘You can have your things sent on,’ he told her. ‘And you’ll have new things where we’re going.’
He’d waited long enough, she guessed, and no more stops would be made along the way.
A helicopter was waiting for them on the lawn outside. Xavier was the pilot.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked through the mic attached to her headphones when she was safely strapped into the passenger seat beside him.
‘It’s a surprise.’
Xavier’s voice sounded metallic and distant in her ears as they lifted off. They flew over the twinkling lights of the city and headed out to sea. Now there was only blackness surrounding them, and overhead the moon, until she saw the great white ship, looming out of the darkness, impossibly large and impossibly sleek. She’d heard about super-yachts, but had never seen one before.
‘Is it yours?’ Of course it was his, she thought as Xavier started talking through his mic in preparation for landing. Don Xavier Del Rio’s wealth was incalculable, and this was just one more symbol of his power.
As the helicopter sank lower she recognised the sleek black launch on which Xavier had first arrived on Isla Del Rey. It was just one toy amongst many on board this billionaire’s ocean-going yacht. ‘How big is it?’ she asked when he’d ended his call.
‘The length of twelve of your London double-decker buses,’ he said, settling the helicopter smoothly on its skids.
‘Not that big, then,’ she teased, hoping to reclaim some of the warmth they’d shared at their wedding reception. For some reason, Xavier seemed all business now—distant and preoccupied.
Switching off the engine, he removed her headphones. When his fingertips brushed her face she wanted him to kiss her, and like a fool closed her eyes. When nothing happened she opened them again to find he’d moved away.
‘Wait there,’ he said. ‘I’ll lift you down so you don’t trip over your dress. Welcome to my world,’ he ad
ded dryly.
Would she ever be ready for his world? Rosie wondered as Xavier opened her door and the clean fresh scent of ozone replaced the warm air inside the cabin. She couldn’t imagine a time when she would ever get used to this billionaire lifestyle, and had to hide her apprehension when he helped her out, before escorting her down a seemingly endless line of crew waiting to welcome them.
Everyone seemed so happy to see her, and that almost made it worse. She hated deceiving the crew—like the islanders before them—and almost wished their marriage could be what it seemed.
Xavier insisted on carrying her over the threshold into their suite of rooms. The moment he closed the door and set her down in the middle of a huge and very opulent bedroom, she felt small and insignificant, and smothered by huge wealth and privilege.
What on earth had possessed her to think this would work? Rosie agonised for the umpteenth time. She’d have plenty of opportunity to find out. They were quite alone. No one would disturb them here. She was fast discovering how many layers of insulation lay between the super-rich and the rest of the world.
She still grouped herself very firmly with the rest, Rosie determined as Xavier loosened the neck of his shirt. Shrugging off his jacket, he tossed it on a chair.
He looked at her properly for the first time since the reception. ‘You’d better turn around so I can help you out of that dress.’
Her mouth dried. She’d known this was coming, but still...
She turned and tried to concentrate on the thick rugs beneath her feet, and how beautifully they were woven in the most amazing multitude of jewel colours, but, however hard she tried to distract herself from what was happening, her gaze kept flashing to the crisp white linen sheets on the huge, teak-framed bed. Xavier had brought her straight into the bedroom. No time to lose when it came to making an heir—
‘Forgive me,’ he said, maybe sensing something of her apprehension. ‘Would you like a drink first?’
She swallowed deep. ‘Water, please.’
She seized the chance to take in her surroundings when he went to pour a glass from the crystal jug placed ready for him beside the bed. Polished wood and burnished brass provided a suitably classy setting for artefacts from all over the world. Crystal lights illuminated exquisite works of art, paintings that told stories as eloquent as the books they both loved. She glanced at Xavier’s back, and thought again how attractive he was. If only there had been more time to get to know him better. Maybe it was all business for him now they were married, and they wouldn’t have a proper conversation again. Outside bed.
There were several low brass tables, laden with food and drink, suggesting he planned to remain in the bedroom for quite some time. Her pulse went crazy at the thought, while her mouth turned drier than ever.
‘Your water,’ he said, handing her the glass.
‘Thank you.’
She took a great gulp, and when he moved behind her she almost took a bite out of the glass rim. When his warm hands touched her naked back, her body quivered with awareness. The sound of the laces on her gown sliding through silk and snapping free made her start to shiver all over again. She wasn’t wearing a bra, as support was built into the dress. Xavier brushed the gown from her shoulders in one smooth move. It pooled on the rug at her feet. He removed her veil and smoothed her hair. Brushing her hair aside, he kissed the nape of her neck until she shivered with arousal, and then he encouraged her to turn around, so she was standing in front of him naked.
‘No stockings?’ he murmured, his mouth tugging with the humour she had so desperately hoped would return.
‘No shoes, either,’ she confessed.