by Liz Madrid
A right hook hits his cheek. My left fist is already in motion, but Heath is ready. He grabs both my wrists and swiftly whips me around like I’m a rag doll. He spins me around and slams me roughly against the wall, pushing his body against mine. The sudden closeness catches me by surprise as he grabs my wrists and brings my arms up above my head, pinning my wrists against the wall.
He’s breathing hard, his nostrils flaring, and I can smell the scent of his cologne. It unnerves me that my body recognizes the notes faster than my brain can process it, citrusy with a hint of spice. That and the feel of him so close — too close — to me, makes my belly tighten and my knees grow weak. My body betrays me even as courage deserts me, but I force myself to glare at him, meeting his blue-gray eyes without shame for what I’d just done, though I am angry for losing my cool in the end. How could I let my emotions get the best of me when I’d been doing so well? I haven’t punched anyone in three years, not since Andrew.
“You can add assault to the rest of the charges, I don’t care,” I tell him, my words emerging between gasps. “But I’m not apologizing to you.”
“And I don’t want you to.” His expression softens but as I try to push him off me, it’s no use for he’s much stronger. Heath pins me even harder against the wall, my breasts pressing against his broad chest.
“Is this what turns you on?” I ask. “Is this part of your plan? Insult them, lie to them, corner them, just so you can seduce them?”
“No,” Heath says, his chest rising and falling with each breath he takes. “I’m usually much smoother than this, but if you consider this as foreplay, maybe I should file it for later.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I whisper, though my face is burning for it was exactly what I meant. My feelings are in turmoil, my mind filled with images of the things I want him to do to me, but I push them away as quickly as they come. Not with Heath, my mind screams — anyone but him. But right now, there’s only him, still holding my wrists above my head, his face so close to my own, and his body’s response pressing against my belly.
“All I really wanted, Billie, was for you to open that damn door.”
“You mean, no one’s waiting to arrest me? And Blythe is free?”
“No to your first question, and yes to your second, so you can stop shaking now,” Heath says, releasing me abruptly. He turns away from me though I see him rubbing his jaw with his hand, hear a soft pop as he opens and closes his mouth.
“Are you okay?” I ask in a small voice, the vision of assault charges still dancing in my head. “Did I land it?“
“Not exactly, but it was still a hell of a right hook,” he mutters.
“Well, you deserved it.”
“You’re right, I did,” he says, turning to face me again as we stand in the narrow hallway. “Look, I’m sorry for insulting you and for not believing you when all you’ve ever done since I’ve met you was tell the truth.”
“That’s because I was.”
“And you’re right about me being rattled, because I am. I’m so rattled that I’m willing to travel with the only person I know who isn’t affiliated in any way, shape or form, with Kheiron Industries, even if you’re someone I barely know,” he says. “And because of circumstances beyond our control, it makes you the only person I’m willing to trust.”
“I wouldn’t trust you any further than I could throw you.”
He chuckles drily, studying my face. “I wouldn’t be too quick to say that, Billie, because right now, your options are just as limited as mine — and not just in the trust department. Which means we either have to work together. A truce, maybe? Or we go our separate ways, like you said. You have your plan B after all, with you finding Blythe on your own and taking her home with you, though I wouldn’t count on it. You don’t even know where to start to look for her in Saint Lucia.”
As I stare at Heath, I know he’s right, for even if I do manage to find Blythe, there’s no guarantee that she’s even going to believe me. Even I can hardly believe everything that’s happening myself.
“But just because I’m willing to trust you doesn’t mean I need you with me to get to my brother,” Heath continues. “Whether those documents get leaked or not, I can weather the consequences, Billie. Your sister, on the other hand-”
“-is expendable, I get it.”
“What do you think will happen once whoever is behind the embezzlement realizes that the corporation already knows and will make their move on Blythe? We’ve already limited her access to company property and funds, though we’ve yet to freeze her accounts in Geneva. But as far as the people behind it, do you think they’d waste their time to get their hands on that money?”
I turn away from his gaze. It’s not like we haven’t talked about this already, but I can sense the urgency in his voice, and maybe, even concern for Blythe.
“If Blythe is as smart as you are, what do you think will happen once she realizes that she’s being set up? How fast do you think your sister can run, Billie?”
In her Louboutins, clearly not fast enough.
11
Truce
With the delicate truce between us in place, Heath retreats to his seat with an ice pack pressed against his left cheek while I sit across from him, a file folder filled with all the information Heath’s Loss Prevention Division has collected against Blythe. It actually has a much fancier name but I prefer to use terms I can understand, since it’s complicated enough, especially when all I see in all the pages of names, numbers and dates is Blythe’s name.
It’s difficult to miss, what with huge amounts that are supposed to correspond to furniture requisitions for the penthouse, clothing purchases and spa sessions, and then a number of checks from Ethan in the thousands, and a million here and there. It’s as if Blythe herself is waving a huge red flag with the words FRAUD all over the place. It’s so obvious it’s laughable.
By the time I’m halfway through the folder, I’ve got a raging headache and the flight attendant brings me a cup of coffee. As if trying to make me feel better, she tells me that Heath’s chair is called the VIP seat, which has the master control panel for the cabin’s interior, controlling everything from the temperature to the entertainment and lighting. Heath even dims the light above me and switches on the TV screen in front of me, and when I look at him, unimpressed and mouthing the word show-off, he smiles sheepishly.
We should be discussing our plans the moment we reach Saint Lucia, but it’s as if we’ve both reached our word limit for the day, and we’re actually enjoying the silence. Or at least I am, for Heath is back to working on figures and numbers on the touchscreen in front of him, even making a brief phone call to Tyler about some acquisition of a packaging company and plans to meet in Santa Barbara. I don’t ask what Santa Barbara is about, not when as far as I’m concerned, my plan is only finding Blythe and getting her back to New York as soon as I can.
“Would you like to sit here?” Heath asks, getting up from his VIP seat. He reminds me of a boy offering another child a piece of candy from his lunch box, if only trying to make her feel better.
But I don’t think twice. I get up and switch seats. I need the distraction from everything that’s happened so far, especially from all the mind-numbing figures I’ve just read in the file folder he’d given me. As Heath stands along my left side, he points out things on the touchscreen in front of me, I learn that not only does the VIP seat control the temperature of the plane outside of the cockpit, lighting and even window shades, it also has control of outside cameras.
I turn to look at him, his face so close to mine though this time, there’s no animosity between us. Not only that, but he’s grinning. “Cameras?”
“Of course — on the outside of the plane,” he says, reaching in front of me to tap a few icons on the screen, “just in case we see pigs flying.”
And there are — cameras, that is, not pigs. There is a camera mounted at the tail where one can see the surroundings during flight or upon
landing, and before deplaning to make sure the area is safe. He tells me that it’s crucial to know that the area around the plane is clear, especially when he has to fly to dangerous cities like Bogota, Columbia and once, just before a coup erupted, Caracas, Venezuela.
But it’s the camera at the belly of the plane that interests me more as the captain informs us that we’re getting ready to land and Heath tells me to remain where I am as he takes the seat in front of me.
Watching the landing gear come down and then seeing a perfect landing on the screen reminds me of a video game and I can’t help but grin the entire time as I watch the whole thing unfold on the screen. And the whole time, Heath is watching me though for the first time since I’ve known him, it doesn’t bother me.
We’re in Saint Lucia, one step closer to Blythe — and that’s all that matters.
Once we land, I’m greeted by a cool tropical breeze that makes me happy not to have changed from the white dress I wore the day before. Except for my high heels, the whole get-up is perfect. I should have asked Heath or one of the flight attendants where my suitcases were but then I figured, what was a few more hours?
According to Heath’s original plan, we’d be here for only a day, just enough time to meet with Harris Colman, one of the Directors of the Board, and track down Heath and Blythe. I feel pangs of disappointment creeping along the edges, wishing that I’d at least get a chance to bury my toes in the sand, even for just a few minutes. A dip in the tropical waters wouldn’t be bad as well.
But then I remind myself that I’m not here on vacation. I’m here to track Blythe down and get her home and away from trouble — even if I have to do it with her kicking and screaming. I tell myself that again and again as I watch Heath laugh at something one of the pilots tell him.
Dimples along his cheeks deepen as he grins and I’m suddenly struck at how youthful he looks. With his dark hair and tanned skin, he looks just like any young man I would have seen at my shop, waiting till he’d come up to the counter with whatever trinkets he’d find for his girlfriend or his wife, pull out some change from his wallet, though in the last few years, hardly anyone really carries cash anymore, so it would have to be a debit card. Then he’d wait for me to place his purchases and his receipt into a paper bag, and with a smile and a thank-you, leave the shop with barely a memory of the plain woman behind the counter who’d rang up his purchases.
The truth hits me then — that in the real world, without Blythe holding Heath and I together in this delicate truce, this moment would not exist.
From the airport, it’s a helicopter ride to Harris’ estate. It’s my first time riding in a helicopter and while it scares the hell out of me, the view is magnificent enough to distract me. Barely seven in the morning and thinking that maybe it’s too early to visit Harris, Heath asks the pilot to give us a tour of the island.
For the next forty-five minutes, I learn as much I can about Saint Lucia as the pilot flies over Castries, Marigot Bay, the Pitons and the Soufriere volcano. I learn all about the number one export (bananas), the weather (tropical), and a brief history of the island having been a colony of France, and then England, and now one of the Windward Islands of the Lesser Antilles.
I’m not even aware that I’ve been holding Heath’s hand with a death grip till we land on a rooftop helipad, and with our heads low, hurry towards the stairs that lead down to the main grounds. When Heath shakes his wrist to restore circulation, I apologize profusely but he only shrugs and smiles.
Harris’ estate has a gorgeous view of the Pitons, almost the exact same view that Blythe posted online, and my heart catches in my throat when the memory of our conversation returns to me. But it’s not her scathing words that hit me hard. It’s the questions that come to me now after everything that Heath has told me.
Is the person behind the embezzlement traveling with her? I wonder if they’re watching Blythe when she’s not looking, talking to her and gaining her blind trust. I wonder if they think her just a silly woman in love, too blind to realize that she’s been set up and that soon, her world is about to crumble beneath her feet.
But the questions flee from my mind when I see the lush green gardens at the bottom of the steps. Knowing that we’re only going to be on the island for a few hours before heading back to New York, I decide to go for it. I leave Heath on the steps and rush towards the first patch of green grass I see, hopping about as I slip my shoes off along the way.
The moment my bare feet touch the soft grass, it feels like being home again, though this time instead of mountain air and the smell of the Yuba River, I take a big gulp of fresh island air, catching the scents of sweet flowers and the ocean. On one of the branches a few feet away from me is the most colorful parrot I’ve ever seen. It squawks and I can’t help but laugh out loud. I’m in paradise!
I only regain my composure when I notice that Heath is watching me with a bemused smile on his face. An older man with a thick head of gray hair and a young girl who is about ten years old stand next to him. She’s yawning and clearly, she’s just gotten out of bed, her short hair still standing in places. She’s wearing a pink polka dot pajama top with spaghetti straps, paired with denim shorts that she must have slipped on in a hurry for the top button isn’t quite fastened completely. Clearing my throat, I slip my shoes back on and walk as demurely as I can back to the main stairs.
“Sorry about that,” I mumble.
“Don’t be sorry, Billie. It was adorable,” Heath says.
“Maybe you should try it sometime, Heath. All work and no play has made you such a dull boy,” I mutter under my breath.
The older man laughs. “And you’re right, my dear. Heath really should let loose once in a while, and maybe this time he will. He barely ever allows himself to relax. I’m Harris Colman, by the way, and this is my granddaughter, Pam.” He turns to face Heath. “When she heard you were coming, she told me to wake her up no matter what time it was so she could meet your girl.”
Your girl?
I cast a questioning glance towards Heath but he ignores me, his attention on Pam, who is staring at me with wide hazel eyes. I shake Harris’ hand and then face her. “Hi, Pam. I’m Billie.”
“Wow! You look just like her,” she whispers. “Doesn’t she look exactly like Blythe, Gramps? An exact copy! Even her hair! And her nails!”
“She sure wasn’t kidding when she said she had a twin sister yesterday, was she?” Harris says before turning to face Heath again. “You just might still catch them before they leave, Heath, though there’s really no rush. It’s not like flight plans are a big secret.”
“Even if they were, it wouldn’t have mattered. Ethan’s tournament schedule is fixed for the year,” Heath says. “He’s got one coming up in Santa Barbara in four days, so that’s where he’s going to be, rain or shine. And I hear that some prince will be playing as well, which means Ethan and company have to be accounted for days ahead for security purposes.”
“Good! I figured you’d have an idea about his schedule despite recent developments. In that case, I hope you stay a few days and we can talk more about what Ethan came here to discuss. It’s not a big deal, nothing that can affect anything corporate-wise, but we’ll talk more over breakfast,” Harris says, glancing at me with a huge grin. “And if this is Billie’s first time on the island, it would be a crime to take her away from here so quickly.”
“It’s okay, really. I didn’t come here for a vacation,” I say. “We’re here for business — or rather, Heath’s business.”
Pam yawns again. “Sorry, I really just wanted to see if you were real,” she says. “Blythe told me about having an identical twin last night and I didn’t believe her. I mean, you could be Blythe and you’re just shitting me right now.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure I’m not Blythe,” I say as Heath casts a knowing glance towards me. Oh, right. I’m doing the whole Not-Blythe thing again.
“I’m Billie,” I add.
“So are you guys dating
then?” Pam asks. “Because that would be so cool! Twin sisters and brothers! Relationship goals, yeah!”
“You’re too young for those things, Pam,” Heath chuckles, “but we’re still a bit new though.”
I almost laugh out loud. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I’d ever date Heath, but then, what do little girls know about love — or forced alliances, for that matter?
But before I can say anything, Heath pulls me next to him, grinning, dimples deepening along his cheeks. “Don’t we make a beautiful couple?”
Pam squeals excitedly, clapping her hands and bringing her palms against her cheeks as she gazes at us with wide innocent eyes.
“This is even cuter than cute! I can’t wait to tell everyone!”
To my horror, she whips out a phone from her back pocket and in less time it would have taken me to switch on my flip phone and wait for it to power up, Pam has already taken two pictures of us and starts typing on the display.
“This will be so cool, Uncle Heath! Wait till my friends see this!” she exclaims, thrusting her phone towards us so we can see our picture with the caption she’d just typed.
Look at my handsome uncle and his gorgeous girlfriend! #notblythe #hernameisbillie
“Kids and social media these days,” Harris says, shaking his head, though he’s grinning proudly.
“She’s not even thirteen!” I blurt out. “How can she be using it already?”
Pam’s smile disappears and she eyes me suspiciously before turning to look at Heath. “Please tell me she’s cool, Uncle Heath, like Blythe is, ’cause Blythe is totally cool. She even likes One Direction.”
“I guarantee you, Billie is awesome, or I wouldn’t be with her,” Heath says, smiling and still holding me right next to him, his fingers almost digging into my upper arm.
“Good,” Pam says, returning to look at me. “But if you’re worried about parental controls or whatever, Mom helped me set all my social media accounts up so it’s okay. Porn doesn’t interest me yet anyway.”