Mr. Rook

  “Don’t worry. I’ll use a glass. And if you bring my drink in the next two minutes, there’ll be a smile in it for you. Possibly a foot massage, too.” I leaned back. “Because, damn, my feet hurt and you look like you have strong hands.”

  Joe gave me a strange look. “I’ll be right back, Ms. Brenna.” He hurried off.

  In the meantime, I returned to watching jubilated women entering the restaurant, being greeted by their Julies and then escorted by their Lukes to tables.

  Everyone except her.

  A lady in her eighties hobbled toward a large table with a blue and white floral arrangement to the side of the room. Though it ashamed me to admit it, I couldn’t imagine her participating in any of these highly sexual fantasies. Perhaps she asked for the romantic candlelit dinner like I did.

  Ten minutes later, that woman’s table had four more guests, all elderly, none of them smiling or enjoying themselves. They had the faces of hostages or of someone attending a funeral.

  What is going on? I hadn’t even noticed Joe returning with my bottle.

  As for the other women, the eleven who’d flown in with me, they were too busy toasting their glasses, chatting with their handsome escorts or their “Julies,” and each other.

  Why am I the only one noticing the creepy vibe of this place?

  The music suddenly exploded and a burst of light flashed on the stage, followed by smoke. Men in grass skirts appeared, flexing, shaking asses, and dancing, while the women howled and cheered.

  Except for the dreary table of five.

  “Ms. Brenna? Your dinner, ma’am. Please let me know if anything is not to your liking.” Joe placed a plate of weird-looking stuff in front of me.

  “Uh, what is this?”

  “It’s the vegan, no dairy, nut, gluten, berries, egg, soy, salad, or imitation meat meal you ordered.”

  I glanced down at the pile of dark and light mush and little slices of pita chips or something. “So what is it?”

  “Eggplant baba ganoush, hummus, quinoa tabbouleh, and toasted brown rice flat bread.”

  I grabbed a chip and sampled the eggplant goo. A few seconds of chewing had my mouth exploding with flavor.

  “Wow. It tastes amazing,” I said disappointedly. I was wasting my time, trying to create a hassle with the food. In other words, I only seemed to be punishing myself.

  “Can I bring you anything else, Ms. Brenna?” Joe asked.

  “I’d like a steak—medium rare—and a salad.”

  “Oh, did we make a mistake? I thought you were a vegetarian.”

  “I’ve decided to take a vegan-free vacation and go a little wild.”

  “I’ll have that steak for you right away.” He reached for my plate.

  “No, leave it. I’ll have it as my appetizer.” I’d never had anything so delicious.

  Damn this place.

  He scurried off, and I sighed. More and more, I began to realize that I might simply have to engage with Rook the old-fashioned way, by throwing myself at him, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to find anything major to complain about. Even their garbanzo mush is good. And I hated garbanzos.

  The rest of the show flew by, as did dinner—yes, the steak was amazing, too. So soft and juicy that I didn’t even need my steak knife. But as the evening grew late, I began feeling more anxious, shifting around in my seat, constantly glancing at the entrance.

  Where is Rook? Not that I knew what he looked like, but I imagined the employees would make a fuss when he showed up.

  I refilled my tequila glass for a third time and threw back a shot. The heat in my chest and the numbness in my mind felt like a welcome change from my aches and sadness.

  “Hey, Stephanie! That was some show! Right, woman?” Meg appeared at my side in a red and black tiger-striped spandex dress, apparently on her way back from the restroom next to the kitchen.

  “Yeah. It was really great,” I said, trying to be polite. Honestly, I’d barely watched. I couldn’t keep my eyes off the door and those five women. What if something bad was happening to them?

  “So you wanna come with us tomorrow?” Meg asked, but I hadn’t heard a word she’d said.

  “Sorry?”

  “Snorkeling? Wanna come? A bunch of us are going in the morning,” Meg said.

  “Oh. That. I, uh…I have to review my fantasy contract and then I have my date.”

  “How exciting!” Meg squealed. “You’ll have to tell us all how it went, okay? Mine isn’t until Thursday, and I can’t wait because the man I chose is so incredibly…”

  She went on and on about his muscles or something while my eyes floated back to the five women. One had left the table.

  My gaze darted around the room, and I spotted her in the corner, talking to a tall man with broad shoulders, wearing a black suit or tux—couldn’t quite see. With his back to me, his face wasn’t visible either, but the elderly woman, who wore a light green dress and had short silver hair, was waving her frantic hands all over the place. She seemed very upset.

  I rose from my seat, debating if I should intervene. Frankly, I couldn’t help feeling paranoid given what had happened to Cici.

  Just then, the tall well-built man took her hand and turned around, providing a full view of his face.

  My breath whooshed from my lungs, and my knees nearly lost their firmness. I’d never seen a man that beautiful.

  It’s Mr. Rook. It has to be. And I simply couldn’t look away. Every part of me needed to soak up the gorgeous, imposing man in the tuxedo. His thick, wavy black hair. His full, succulent lips. The masculine planes of his angular jaw with a sexy-as-hell five o’clock shadow. The man’s face and powerful-looking body flipped a switch deep inside, triggering a lust that shamed me, given why I was here.

  Then, I noticed his stunning eyes. Predatory and coldblooded, they appeared nearly translucent with a tinge of steel gray or a pale, pale blue. He was too far away to know for sure, but he was close enough to frighten the hell out of me. Was he the man I’d seen from the airplane window?

  Regardless, no man should be so attractive. Or so emotionless. No wonder his employees didn’t want to piss him off. I didn’t either. In fact, I wanted to leave the room, the island, and this hemisphere—anywhere far, far away from him and his ruthless, elegant beauty, and cutthroat vibe. Sadly, however, I could do little more than remain standing with my strappy black heels glued to the floor as he glided that towering frame across the room and led the old woman back to her seat.

  With his help, she lowered her frail body into her chair, and Mr. Rook kissed the top of her hand. She nodded at him almost like an admission of acceptance.

  Acceptance of what?

  With my shaking hand, I took a sip of tequila, only vaguely aware of Meg still standing next to me, speaking—something about meeting up later with the group for a swim.

  “Sure. Yeah. Sounds great.” I nodded absentmindedly, retaking my seat.

  “See you there!” She pranced away.

  Meanwhile, my eyes shifted around the room of loud, happy guests eating and drinking. Two women sprang from their places at different tables, leaving their dates, and then quickly took the other’s seat, like some bizarre game of date-night Chinese fire drill.

  Why is no one else noticing Mr. Rook? Could they not see him? Or maybe I was imagining this stunning man who seemed like a feral beast cloaked in the body of a gentleman.

  I took another sip of tequila, eyeing Mr. Rook as he made his way around the table of five women, taking his time to kiss their hands and say a few words, like he was giving last rites.

  No, Steph. You’re being paranoid. But was I? The silver-haired women looked worried or upset. I have to say something.

  Slowly, I willed my body to rise again and my feet to cross the room. I came up behind Mr. Rook as he leaned his commanding frame over one of the petite women, speaking loudly into her ear.

  “Everything will be fine, Mrs. Montgomery,” he bellowed. “Remember what we talked about.” Hi
s deep, velvety voice cut through the air and hummed inside my ears. It was the sort of smooth, menacing tone one would expect from a man like that.

  The woman nodded and faced forward, avoiding eye contact with him.

  He continued, “If you need help sleeping tonight, call Mrs. Day. She will take care of you.”

  “Thank you,” she belted out. I guessed she was hard of hearing.

  The other women noticed me standing behind Rook, and one cleared her throat, gesturing with her eyes for him to turn around.

  He did.

  Ohmygod. Every muscle in my body locked up except for my frantic heart.

  “Hello.” His nearly translucent eyes punched right through me. I’d never seen anything like them, so ethereal.

  “He-hello,” I muttered.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Brenna.”

  “Yo-you know my name?” I stuttered.

  His lips, framed by midnight black stubble—same color as his hair—twitched for a moment before curling up on one side. “I make it a point to know who’s on my island. One can never be too careful.”

  I swallowed my nerves, trying to ignore his magnificence, the cut of his jawline, the straight nose, and the high cheekbones. How was it possible to feel entranced and literally mortified of a man all at the same time?

  “I suppose you’re right,” I said. “The world is filled with dangerous people.”

  He laughed, and the sound of his booming voice carried across the room just as music began to play. It was an old song, like maybe Billie Holiday or something, but the instrumental version.

  “Dangerous, indeed.” He held out his hand, and I glanced at it, feeling confused.

  “You want to dance?”

  “This is normally what one does when music plays at a dinner party, is it not?” Amusement sparkled in his eyes.

  “Act-actually, I only came over to introduce myself and…” I glanced at the table of women, who now scowled. Not at Rook, but at me.

  Whatthehell? They clearly didn’t appreciate my presence, but why?

  “And?” Rook urged me to finish my sentence, his tone full of arrogance.

  I turned my attention back to his striking face and those mesmerizing eyes. I could swear he saw right through me, into my soul. Could he see that somewhere deep inside, I was hurting and I wanted to make him pay?

  “And I’m not a fan of dancing.” I lifted my chin, determined not to shrink away from him.

  “Neither am I, which will make us excellent partners.”

  I didn’t want to dance. Mainly because I hated being touched, but also because I wanted to leave and catch my breath. I suddenly felt drunk, but it wasn’t entirely due to the tequila. This man’s presence had an intoxicating effect. I felt it right down to my toes and the tightness in my lungs.

  “I wouldn’t want to take you away from your lovely dates,” I argued, glancing at the women, whose scowls turned to polite smiles the moment Rook turned his gorgeous head in their direction.

  “Oh, I’m sure these lovely ladies can get along fine without me for a few minutes. Isn’t that right, ladies?” he said.

  “Of course, Mr. Rook,” said the woman in the light green dress who’d been frantic only moments earlier. The woman’s hand slid to the pendant around her neck. It was a red butterfly or something. I then noticed they all wore the same necklace, like they were all part of the same club.

  I stared at her face, searching her light green eyes for any indication of what the hell was up with this strange situation. Then it dawned on me. These women must be the VIPs. Rick had said that they received Mr. Rook’s personal attention.

  Hmm. Maybe they’re upset because something went wrong with their fantasies. And maybe they’re glaring because they don’t want to share Mr. Rook.

  But Jesus. Their frowning faces and uneasy glances gave me the distinct impression that there was more to it. Either way, they didn’t want me here.

  “Ms. Brenna.” Rook cleared his throat. “I’m waiting.”

  I glanced at his expectant hand.

  Goddammit. I hated physical contact. I hated the sensation of not being in control of my own body when the panic set in. Still, what was I going to do? Say no? I was here for a reason, and that required me to get closer to this man.

  Hesitantly, I took it and bit back a wince; however, the uncomfortable feeling I’d anticipated didn’t come. His hand felt warm and soothing.

  “Very good,” he said, sounding irritated, pulling me away from the other women. “Now let’s you and I have a little chat.”

  “A chat? About what?” The soothing sensation of his grip disintegrated.

  “You,” he growled. “I want to talk about you.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  The moment Rook and I moved to the open space between tables at the center of the room, everything fell silent around us save for the music. No one spoke. No one laughed. The room of perhaps fifty people simply stared at the man holding me while my hand shook in his rough palm.

  Did he know who I was and that I’d lied about my name? Probably. The question was, however, what would he do about it? If he doesn’t kill me, I think my heart’s going to give out.

  Stop being so weak, Steph. You’re here for Cici. Think about her. Think about your dad, I scolded myself.

  Like Rook’d danced to this song a thousand times, he effortlessly moved me to whatever 1930s or ’40s music was playing.

  “Why so nervous, Ms. Brenna?”

  My fear of being touched was only the tip of the iceberg. Mr. Rook had a very unexpected effect on me—a mixture of fear and scorching attraction.

  I forced my gaze from his broad chest and the crisp white fabric of his tuxedo shirt to meet his striking set of ice-cold eyes.

  “I think you know why,” I replied, attempting to be vague.

  “Perhaps. So tell me, Ms. Brenna, why did you insist I dine with you this evening?”

  “Julie told you about my request.” My stomach knotted and my breath chugged in and out of my lungs. It was one thing to put on a pissy act with Julie, but it was another with this man, who seemed to be looking right through me.

  “Of course Julie told me. She knows my guests’ needs are always a priority.” He stared down at my face, awaiting an answer.

  Should I lie and continue playing my charade, or should I come clean and do what I came here for?

  I opted for the former. Better to tread carefully instead of coming out with guns blazing like I’d planned to do before learning that Mr. Rook seemed just as dangerous as he was good looking.

  I let a coy smile play across my red lips. “I heard you were the nicest thing on the island. Why wouldn’t I ask to have dinner with you?”

  He grinned, and two deliciously deep divots puckered in his stubble-covered cheeks. Oddly, he reminded me of Mr. Price. Both men had a lethal air masked by handsome faces. Of course, Rook was far better looking than any man I’d ever seen—here or anywhere. Even his tanned skin was stunning. No scars, no wrinkles, not one imperfection.

  “I admire a woman who asks for the things she wants,” he said, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “So tell me, what can we do to make your fantasies come true during your stay? Because I find it difficult to believe you came all this way simply to complain about a minor error, such as the harem incident earlier, or to threaten my staff.”

  So Julie had tattled. Good. Because I wanted to get your attention, and it worked.

  I looked away toward the crowd around us, who pretended to act normal—half-talking, half-dancing, half-eating. All awestruck eyes were glued to Rook.

  I shrugged, playing it cool. “What can I say? I’m a demanding woman.” A complete lie. I wanted justice and that was about it. “As for my fantasy, well, I think I’ve already shared that.” But now, I might be with Meg, wanting to change my fantasy for a night with Rook. The man exuded a hypnotic masculine energy that promised hard hot fucking. I bet he would know what to do with my body.

  Whoa.
Wait. What the hell is the matter with me? For all I knew, he had something to do with Cici never coming home.

  “So a dinner cruise and flowers, huh?” he said with a condescending tone.

  “I might be demanding, but that doesn’t mean my tastes aren’t simple. When it comes to romance, I’m actually quite easy to please.” Also not true. I had yet to find a man who made me feel anything—sexual or otherwise.

  “I somehow doubt that.” Rook made a cocky little chuckle. “Just as I doubt that a beautiful woman such as yourself truly wants a candlelit dinner—not for that price.”

  He was right. Still, I had to stay in character.

  “Why not? I’ve never met a real gentleman or a real man. They’re either selfish assholes or totally insecure, and I’m not interested in either.”

  “I see.”

  “You see what?”

  He glanced toward the table of five, who watched us with great interest.

  “Well?” I noticed how even his scent, a delicious mixture of exotic spices and florals, was unlike any cologne I’d ever smelled. Rook reeked of unshakable confidence—that was what came to mind, anyway.

  Staring down at me, he slid his hand from the middle of my bare back to the cleft of my ass, underneath my backless dress. My body flinched, lighting up with tiny pinpricks—my fear of being touched. Or was it that I hadn’t ever been with a man who made me feel this much of anything.

  “In my experience,” he said, “women such as yourself do not always know what they want. They come up with elaborate lists—recipes, if you will—of the perfect man, only to discover that they should’ve asked for something else, something they need.”

  I held on to my smile by a thread, my body flooding with a million different sensations, most of them carnal. Nothing like this had ever happened to me. Not once. And I felt like I was betraying Cici.

  “All right, then, Mr. Rook. What do you think I need?”

  “I’ve been doing this for a long time, Ms. Brenna, but I’m no magician. Figuring out a woman’s true necessities takes patience and effort.” His fingertips lightly circled over that little spot on my lower back north of my tailbone. The sensation felt erotic, like he was rubbing my now fluttering c-spot. I wanted to lean into him. I wanted to feel my bare breasts pressing into his bare chest. Did he know what he was doing to me?