Mr. Rook

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  So Rook understood this? I found that difficult to believe.

  “And?” I snapped.

  “And he’s going too fast.” Rook pointed to the screen where Jack currently had his head wedged between the woman’s thighs. I couldn’t see anything really from the angle except for that. Thank God.

  “You see there.” Rook pointed, and I leaned into the desk for a better view. “It’s all wrong. Even though her head is back, she is wincing, almost like she’s forcing it to happen. A woman who’s lost in the moment never has that expression. Her lips should be slack, her breathing erratic, and her eyes should be at half-mast or fluttering. This woman is thinking about it.”

  He’s right. Even I could see the woman wasn’t enjoying herself. It was like watching a bad porn where the actress exaggeratedly oohed and awed. But anyone with a vagina who’d had sex would know it was an act. I’d put on plenty of my own for the sake of past relationships. A silly move. I should’ve simply told my exes what I wanted, because I’d never enjoyed sex once. Kind of a waste, because now I could barely stand being touched. Except by Rook.

  Now you know why. Obviously, the man was fairly skilled when it came to reading a woman.

  My body sparked with erotic tingles as I imagined his expert touch—hands gliding over my bare breasts, fingers and tongue massaging my throbbing—

  Seriously, Stephanie? Don’t even think of going there.

  “Fine. She’s faking it.” I stepped back from the long desk and Rook. “But that still doesn’t make this any less—”

  He picked up the phone on the console, hit a few numbers, and then spoke softly. “You need to slow down. Think of how long she’s waited for you, for this moment. Savor her every move, the feel of her skin. She is no different than the woman you will fall in love with someday, who will become a mother to your children and then age. Think about how you would still love her in twenty years like you love her now.”

  I felt my chest tighten and conflicting emotions erupt. My moral high ground told me that this was nothing more than voyeurism. Completely wrong. But hearing Rook tell that guy how to treat a woman, a woman I might someday become, made my insides quiver. He wanted her to feel cherished and beautiful.

  Rook hung up the phone, and I stood there speechless. Who are you?

  He continued watching Jack, who immediately pulled away, rubbing his face inside the woman’s thighs, kissing, licking and breathing her in. The subtle strokes, the gentle nuzzling, the carefully placed kisses instantly set the woman off. I could see it in her face. The euphoria, the lack of self-awareness.

  “Better.” Rook laced his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair.

  I continued to gawk, unable to wrap my head around him. But I wanted to. I wanted to wrap other things around him, too. The attention he gave these women could only mean he’d be amazing in bed. Not only because he cared about what they wanted, but because he knew what they needed. God, what he could do to me.

  Misreading my conflicting emotions, Rook gave me a hard look. “It’s not all sex, Stephanie. Many women come for something entirely different.” He pointed to a screen where a group of people were climbing around inside a cave. “Ah, they’ve almost found it.”

  “Found what?”

  “They’ve been down there for ten hours, searching for an Aztec treasure. We had the tunnels especially built for women who dream of being an explorer or Indiana Jones.”

  Interesting. It almost looked fun.

  Suddenly curious to see what other stories were playing out, I glanced at another screen on the far left where a younger woman cried. An older man held her in his arms.

  “What happened to her?” I asked, pointing to the monitor.

  “She lost her father a few years ago. She never had the chance to say goodbye, so that was her fantasy. It is the same session I offered you.”

  “Sorry, but…” I shook my head from side to side. “I have no interest in role-playing with someone dressed up as Cici.”

  “I assure you it is much more than that, which is why I will leave the offer open to you, should you ever change your mind.”

  I wished he’d make me a different kind of offer. “I won’t, but thanks anyway. Can we go outside now? It’s a little hot in here.”

  A pleased smile twitched across his full lips. “Are you sure you don’t wish to watch a little longer?” His voice was low and filled with sexual undertones. “There is no shame in being curious.”

  Feeling his eyes staring right through me, I shook my head. I didn’t want to watch. I wanted to participate. With him.

  I cleared my throat, tamping down the gnawing sexual ache between my legs. “Nope. I’m good.”

  “As you wish.” He stood, reached for the door handle, and then turned his head.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Look at this ridiculousness.” He went for the phone again. “Fucking Mrs. Day. I’m never going to have a moment’s rest.”

  “Was this her job?” I asked.

  He nodded. “For five years. I supervise when needed.” He dialed a number and began barking, “She likes red, not white. Please don’t make a mistake again. This is your fifth error in two weeks.” He slammed down the phone.

  His eyes went to a monitor where a couple sat atop a small cliff overlooking the ocean. They appeared to be having a picnic. The man, a large blond with his back to the camera, quickly swapped out glasses and made some sort of joke to the woman.

  “How did you know that?” I asked.

  “It is my job.”

  I pointed to the same screen. “Well, you missed the fact that she is leaning away from him. And how she just laughed at his joke. Totally fake. I’d say there is way more wrong with the date than the wine he served. I’d say it’s a bust.”

  He leaned in. “Well, it seems someone else has a knack for detail. I am impressed.”

  “I’m a woman. It’s not hard to figure out our body language.” Though I wonder how you became so well versed. “How many women did you have to sleep with to become such an expert?”

  He gave me a stern look and opened the door. “We can go now.”

  I lifted a brow. Oh. He’s shy again all of a sudden? Okay, buddy.

  He gestured for me to exit and then followed. Rook’s employees were back in their cubicles, busy at work, answering calls, taking room service orders, and addressing excursion requests.

  “How did you find this place?” Rook asked the moment we hit the stairs.

  “I didn’t find basement stairs in the house. I figured they had to be outside.”

  “Once again, I’ll say I’m impressed.”

  Why? Because I had a brain?

  We emerged into the sunlight, and that was when I noticed his hair. He no longer had just a few “salt sprinkles.” Two thin ribbons of gray sprouted from his temples, aging him by at least ten years. I considered it shallow to comment on a man’s Grecian Formula habits, especially since it only made him look all the more handsome, so I said nothing.

  “And what was so urgent that you came to find me?” he asked, stepping close and taking my hand. His touch sparked warm delicious chills up my arm.

  Oh, God. Don’t do that to me. Now that I’d seen this other side of him—the man who knew all about pleasing a woman—his touch felt ten times more erotic.

  I felt my body leaning toward his broad chest, toward his warmth, toward the raw sexual urges he provoked. All I wanted was to lose myself in him.

  Staring at my lips, he brushed his thumb across my chin. “Tell me what I can do for you,” he said with a tenderness I’d never thought possible from a man like him.

  Goddammit. I found it sexier than hell that he had so many layers, but I couldn’t say what I really wanted—him—because I had no clue what was real anymore. My life had been shoved into an emotional blender and puréed all to hell.

  I cleared my throat, fighting to keep my urges at bay, and dropped his hand. “I need to go home, Rook. Within the hour if possible.”
r />   His brows furrowed; his eyes twitched. He hadn’t been expecting me to say that. “Yes, well, sadly I have already inquired on your behalf and have very bad news. Not only for you.” He grunted under his breath. “A tropical storm has abruptly turned our way and is approaching fast. I am afraid you won’t be able to leave until Sunday. And if that is the case, the safest means to transport you home is via our private jet, which will take you directly to your departure airport.”

  I wondered if he was lying, and Rook, being the astute observer, immediately picked up on that.

  He took his phone from his jeans pocket and showed me the screen. “Tropical Storm Mary.”

  I glanced at the image from his weather tracker. It looked legit.

  “Oh,” I said disappointedly.

  “I am sorry, Stephanie. But if I were to put you on one of our yachts, it would take five to six hours to reach an island with a commercial airport. Then you would be stranded because the storm will be hitting and planes will be grounded for several days.”

  Dammit. But maybe this was for the best. As much as I needed the comfort of home, my head was a mess and I still had to figure out what I’d tell Warner.

  Rook continued, “I am sure you can appreciate why I would much rather have you here safe with me than in the hands of strangers who have no sympathy for what you are going through.”

  “Because you think I’m going crazy.”

  He flashed a questioning look with those cool eyes.

  “That’s what you meant, right?” I said. “I sleepwalk, and I see monks and my dead sister going for a swim.”

  “I meant that you are in mourning.” Rook’s head subtly dipped to the right. “But did you say you saw your sister swimming in the ocean?”

  “No. I saw her in the jungle and then at the lagoon where you found me. Why?”

  “I had assumed you’d found the lagoon haphazardly. But you are now saying that a dream led you there?”

  “I guess.”

  Rook’s expression soured, disturbed even.

  “What’s wrong?” I added.

  He drew a cool breath and those broad shoulders rose. “I find it helpful to know what is going on inside your mind.”

  Bull crap. I didn’t believe him, and it was for no other reason than his words didn’t match his unusual reaction.

  He glanced at his house. “Let us go inside. Have you ordered anything to eat yet?”

  “I’m not hungry. And I think I should call my father to tell him what’s happened.”

  Rook’s hand went straight to the back of his neck, rubbing hard. “It can wait an hour. You need to eat.”

  I shook my head. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re very controlling?”

  “I am protective, not controlling. And I have my reasons.” He turned and headed for his house.

  I couldn’t argue with him on that count and neither could my low blood sugar.

  “I could go for comfort food—toast, soup, cookies,” I spouted off behind him.

  He stopped, allowing me to catch up, and smiled, revealing two deep smile lines that made the corners of his stunning eyes crinkle. Strange how I’d never noticed those either. In fact, every time I looked at him, I noticed something different.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you exactly?” I questioned.

  “A gentleman never tells.”

  “Oh, but you’ll let me see your guests having ravenous S&M sex?”

  He shrugged. “Must draw the line somewhere.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The Rook Island executive chef, a young woman named Mel, personally delivered the creamiest clam chowder imaginable, along with thick slices of sourdough bread and freshly baked, gooey chocolate chip cookies more delicious than anything I’d ever eaten.

  So good. I devoured everything as Rook and I sat at the counter in his modern chef’s kitchen with black marble and shiny new appliances, and he told me more about the island and how his family had owned it for generations.

  With every word he spoke, I couldn’t help feeling more drawn to him, seeing him for who he truly was underneath all those layers of ice and control. But one thing and one thing only kept repeating in the back of my mind. What’s he hiding?

  Call me crazy, but something about him—his eccentric nature, his raw masculinity, his demanding nature—told me there was much more to him than he let on. And, of course, it only made me want to keep peeling back those petals and ignore the fact that he’d allowed Cici to die without telling me. It was unforgivable. Yet I wanted to find a reason to forgive. Being near him felt good. It felt safe.

  Rook set down a cup of coffee and ignored his plate of food. “What else would you care to know?”

  “How come your island isn’t part of a country?”

  He nodded. “Over the centuries, many attempted to stake a claim—British, Spanish, and French—but my family refused to let the island be annexed. They fought, they threatened, they spread rumors of a curse to keep away unscrupulous, plundering pirates; however, the more insistent invaders, like the Spanish, had to be paid to leave. The history of this place is truly an act of defiance that continues even to this day. Example being that we must pay the Bahaman government for naval protection despite not being part of their territory.”

  “So why don’t you fight them in court?” I asked. Rook seemed to have enough money.

  “Which court? Theirs? I am fairly sure we would lose the case. What we have now is a quiet understanding where they provide us a service in exchange for money.”

  “Sounds like extortion,” I said, though I did get why he wanted to maintain absolute control and independence. Some of what people did here would be illegal in most countries.

  He sipped his coffee and set the cup down on the marble counter. “Extortion is for the weak, and my island is not weak. We host diplomats and dignitaries from all around the world. We have many relationships with many powerful people who look out for my interests and ensure we are left alone. It is my legacy and it is my job to ensure things stay the way they are. Indefinitely.”

  Once again, I had to wonder about his rule and who dictated what he did or didn’t do with the guests.

  “So is it just you running the island? I mean, there are no other owners.”

  “No.”

  Huh. Maybe there were investors or inheritors? “And you have no children or family to take over after you’re gone?”

  “Time will tell. And now, I’m afraid I must excuse myself.” He rose from his stool and checked his phone. “I must see to the other guests and ensure everyone is prepared for the storm.”

  He drew in a deep breath, his broad chest heaving. Whatever bothered him was more than a storm. That was my guess.

  “Sure,” I said.

  “If you need anything, anything at all—”

  “Just call,” I said. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

  He smiled and beamed down at me with those stunning eyes. The air in the room felt thinner all of a sudden, because I could barely breathe.

  “You are a strong woman, Stephanie. I admire that about you.”

  “Thank you, but I don’t feel strong. I feel like a mess.” I had a splitting headache from the crying, while the rest of me felt too tired to fully feel my sadness.

  “In that case, I have never seen a more beautiful mess.” He brushed a lock of my hair behind my ear. “Please stay.” He paused for a long moment. “So I don’t have to go out looking for you again.”

  Did he mean I shouldn’t go out of the house or something else more long-term? Because my goddamned pulse and core fired up.

  I nodded, unable to form words. The way he looked at me, a sensual, quiet lust in his eyes, made me forget every ounce of pain and sorrow in my heart. With one glance and touch, he had my body aching in an entirely welcome way. It seemed he was the cure I’d been waiting for.

  “See you soon.” He left me there in the kitchen, trying to catch my breath.

  I shoved my
fingers through my hair, feeling the space between my legs throbbing and pulsing with need for him. But now, there was a little strange tick in my heart. I felt addicted to the connection we had, too.

  After a few minutes, I went to my room to lie down and drifted off to sleep. When I woke, it was dark outside, the rain pelting my window.

  The storm had arrived, exactly like Rook had said. How ridiculous to doubt him when he’d been nothing but transparent. I’d never met a man who was so blunt and honest.

  Don’t mistake his arrogance for honesty. Remember that he didn’t tell you about Cici. But then, he’d been completely open about his reasoning, even when he knew I wouldn’t like it. Every moment I spent with Rook, the more intensely confused I felt.

  I got up from the bed and went to splash hot water on my face in the bathroom. Then I brushed my teeth and said to hell with it. I needed a shower. After that, I dried off and threw on a pair of comfortable jogging shorts and a T-shirt. By the time I’d finished, the storm had picked up and thunder rattled the window.

  I walked over to close the shutters right as the sky exploded with lightning in a series of flashes followed by more booming thunder. I would’ve felt scared, given we were on a small island in the middle of a big ocean, but this place had seen worse and survived.

  I went out into the living room, looking for Rook, who was nowhere to be found, likely still checking on guests or monitoring things in his dirty little control room.

  I opened the front door, quickly slamming it shut as a huge lightning bolt ripped through the sky. Jesus, those are the biggest raindrops I’ve ever seen. Literally, cat and dog sized.

  Standing there in the foyer, my eyes gravitated toward the stairs. I shouldn’t go up there. I really shouldn’t. But then again, what did I expect to find? A closet with all of his skeletons on display? Not likely.