Becca
When I came to, I was strapped into the seat of a private plane. The chair was buttery soft, the leather a luxurious calfskin and Dominic sat across from me, eyeing me warily.
“Welcome back to earth,” he said dryly.
I slipped off my seatbelt in a flash and darted down the aisle of the cabin. But there was nowhere to go. We were in a small aircraft, the only passengers on a private plane.
I glared at Dominic from the aisle, my arms crossed. “You can’t kidnap me,” I said stubbornly.
“Oh yeah?” he drawled. “I already have, Trina.”
“And I’m not Trina!” I exclaimed again. “You have the wrong person!”
He just shook his head this time, looking out the window. “Your excuses are getting old,” he said wearily. “We’ll be there in half an hour.”
I sat down, refusing to speak to him anymore, figuring I’d make my escape when we got to the island.
Fortunately, he didn’t try to talk to me either, and we sat in silence. I was acutely aware of his bulk across from me, that imposing frame that seemed to take up so much space, making me tingle even after all that had passed. Cursing myself, I resolutely turned towards the window as we began our descent.
The view was amazing. We were pulling towards a beach, the sandy shore surrounded by an azure blue sea, so clear that coral reefs were visible even from the height of the plane. The island looked so clean, so pure and white, that I was almost sorry that I’d be leaving so quickly.
“The island’s name is Koh-i-Noor,” Dominic stated.
I looked at him with amazement. “You gave the island an Arabic name? Like the diamond?” I asked.
He looked surprised that I’d picked up on the association. “Yes, like the diamond. When I bought this island, it reminded me of a jewel in the sea, thus the name Koh-i-Noor.”
“What is it that you do, exactly?” I said softly. “How is it that you own an island?”
“My dear, have you ever heard of Dominic Patterson?” he asked.
“Sure, the murder mystery author. I’ve read a couple of books, but that genre’s not really my thing,” I said. Suddenly, I had a realization. “Dominic Patterson is your pen name, isn’t it? You’re a NY Times bestselling author who’s sold billions of books,” I realized.
“That’s right,” he confirmed. “I come to the island to clear my mind, it gives me the space to write without distraction.”
I turned back to the view below. The TV station I worked for was currently bidding for the rights to a Dominic Patterson novel, hoping to turn it into a blockbuster TV series. And to think that I was sitting across from the esteemed author right now, kidnapped to his own private island. Well, it wasn’t for long, I assured myself. I was going to find a way to escape.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Becca
We landed, and Dominic’s crew met us at the gangway.
“Sir!” cried an old black lady. “We’ve missed you,” she said, fussing over him. “You look so thin, so tired. Come back to Koh-i-Noor more often, we’ll fatten you up.”
“Nana, I’ve missed you too,” said Dominic. “And you, Oscar,” he said, nodding at an old black man, who gave him a bear hug.
“Long time no see, son,” said Oscar.
“And who’s this?” said Nana. “A new lady for da house?” she smiled warmly, looking for a ring on my finger. I flushed, but before I could say anything, Dominic interrupted.
“This is Trina, my new assistant,” said Dominic smoothly. “She’s going to help with editing, typing, that sort of thing,” he continued.
I gaped at him, but shut my mouth quickly. “My given name’s Trina but I go by Becca,” I added quickly, shooting Dominic a warning glare. He rolled his eyes, ignoring me.
“Well, we’ve got dinner ready for you,” said Nana soothingly. “As soon as we get back to the plantation, the suckling pig will be on the table before you can blink!” she said cheerily, as Oscar loaded our bags into a golf cart.
The drive to the house was beautiful. The landscape was a gorgeous rainbow, like stepping into Technicolor for the first time. Palm trees swayed in the heat, their verdant fronds waving majestically, as lush tropical flowers bloomed, red, gold and pink, riotous and fragrant.
I gasped as a macaw flew overhead, its emerald feathers almost brushing the golf cart.
“Them just island birds!” chuckled Oscar. “We got them by the hundreds, ain’t that right Sir?”
“Yep,” Dominic said, leaning back, his big arm stretched comfortably across the seat back. The island was already working its magic. The heat and sunshine were making him relax, his mood visibly lifting as we enjoyed the balmy breeze that swept across our skin. I was happy too because with Dominic’s guard down, it’d be easier for me to steal away.
We arrived at the plantation, a majestic colonial-style house surrounded by a verandah. It was well-maintained and once we were inside, Oscar and Nana disappeared to get dinner ready.
“Well?” I asked Dominic.
“Well, what?” he replied.
“So I’m your new assistant?” I asked.
“Yep, hope you’re good with the computer,” he smirked. “Feel free to show yourself around,” he said. “There’s nowhere to go,” he warned. “No way for you to escape, and no phone or internet to contact the mainland.”
“There has to be a phone!” I sputtered. “What is this, the outback?”
“Not the outback,” said Dominic smoothly. “But you’re not going to be able to dial 9-1-1, as if that were even an option here.”
I was stumped, but spun on my heel, determined to do some exploring. There had to be a way to escape, I just had to be imaginative.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Dominic
Life on the island has been particularly sweet lately. Becca and I settled into an easy rhythm, her skill with editing something I hadn’t expected. I’d thought she was a spoiled brat who barely finished high school, but the opposite was true. She was unusually good at tactfully suggesting changes in plot lines, pacing, and character development. Hmm, very surprising.
We treated each other as professionals, nothing more, although I found myself eyeing her curvy, seductive figure all the time. But I restrained myself. This was the bitch who’d come so close to stealing our family fortune, there was no way I was touching her. Instead, we were consummate professionals, working from 9 am to 6 pm each day, breaking only for lunch and a short snack in the afternoon. Dinnertimes were uneventful, as we ate with Nana and Oscar at the kitchen table, making the whole scene familial and homey.
Other than Caleb, Nana and Oscar are my closest family. I’d worked like a demon since turning eighteen, determined to become a best-selling author. After our parents died, I’d been even more obsessed with making my mark on the world, writing morning, noon and night. After my first blockbuster hit the charts, I’d bought this island, and found that it came with Nana and Oscar. They took care of me in my exhaustion, nurturing the scrappy young writer, making sure I ate and took showers.
And Becca seemed to get along with them well, which surprised the hell out of me. Most gold-diggers are snobs who treat the help like garbage. In this case though, I’d stumbled on Becca in the kitchen more than once, helping Nana chop vegetables, wash dishes, etc. So the girl was not your classic whore, but I brushed it out of my mind. She’d cheated on Caleb and that was that.
I stretched my legs. It was 8 am and Becca would be coming downstairs soon. Although she didn’t know it, I looked forward to breakfast with her every morning. She was usually silent, but I liked seeing her as soon as she woke up, drinking our coffee together as we ate companionably on the verandah. She was gorgeous in the early morning, her auburn hair more gold than red, streaked by the blinding sun of the island.
But at 8:15, she still hadn’t made an appearance. That was odd. There was no night life on the island, so we generally went to sleep early each night, getting up with the dawn. Strange that she wasn�
��t awake yet.
At 8:30, I decided to get her. I climbed the stairs and knocked on her door.
“Breakfast’s ready!” I called. Silence ensued. A bad feeling came over me, and I tried the doorknob. Sure enough, the room was empty, the bed made, everything arranged neatly. There was no trace of Becca and I knew immediately that she was embarking on some foolhardy escape attempt.
I clattered down the stairs to the beach, to the shed where my Sea-Doo personal watercraft was stored. The Sea-Doo was gone, the bitch must have taken it. Stupid girl! There was nowhere to go. The closest island was 200 miles out, and the Sea-Doo would never make it with its puny tank of gas. Shit, she’d taken some of the snorkel equipment too, but left the life vest. With a sudden urgency, I knew that Becca was in serious danger.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Becca
The Sea-Doo started to sputter and I cursed the damn machine.
“Come on, come on!” I urged, as if the Sea-Doo could understand. But of course, we started slowing, and finally stopped, the Sea-Doo drifting aimlessly in the waves. I tried paddling with my hands while sitting on the water craft, but it was no use. We were stranded in the middle of the Caribbean.
But I wasn’t giving up yet. Nana had mentioned that there was another island just north of Koh-i-Noor, from which they bought supplies. There was a man with a motorized boat who made the deliveries, transporting precious groceries and fuel as necessary.
I was determined to find the island. I have a pretty good sense of direction, and it’d been easy to sneak off at the break of dawn, dragging the Sea-Doo to shore and setting off northwards. It’d been easy at first, until the gas ran out.
Shit! Shit shit shit! I started pulling on flippers and snorkel gear, determined to swim to the Big Island if necessary. But I knew I was putting myself, and my baby, in some serious danger.
Because you see, I’ve been feeling nauseated the last few weeks. I’ve been throwing up discreetly, unable to keep any food down. At first, I assured myself it was just the hot weather, combined with eating foods I wasn’t used to. But after I missed my period, and then missed it again, I knew the game was up. After one heavenly night with Dominic, I was pregnant with his child.
The irony struck me. My kidnapper had managed to impregnate me, and use me as his personal secretary to boot. I wasn’t going to tell that bastard about the baby, no way. But it was important to get off the island asap, so that I could get much-needed medical care and do my best by the little one.
Because I wanted this child, wanted him with a longing I’d never felt before, a sudden maternal urge sweeping over me like a life force. I knew with a certainty that I’d do anything to keep my baby safe, including protecting him from his father if it came to that.
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CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Becca
I slipped on the fins and the snorkel equipment. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been able to fit a life jacket onto the Sea-Doo, and would be swimming without. But I felt confident. I was a competent swimmer, and the sea was azure and calm, gentle waves lapping gently against the personal watercraft.
I was midway through my escape from domineering billionaire Dominic Phillips, aka Dominic Patterson, international best-selling author. I’d met him at a charity event, when I filled in for my sister Trina as part of the serving staff. Working the gala had turned into one of the best nights of my life, but with unexpected consequences.
I’d been swept off my feet by the man. He was dark, devastating, and with one look of his blue eyes, could make my entire body tingle with arousal and excitement. After slicing my hand on some broken glass, he’d whisked me off to his manor so that I could be seen by his personal doctor. I’d succumbed to his charms and had the most sensual, erotic night of my life, coming over and over again in his arms.
But the next morning had been a nightmare. And it wasn’t because I’d been expecting to get the girlfriend treatment! Quite the opposite. I’d been sneaking around, trying to find my belongings in his dark bedroom, with every intention of making a quick, painless exit. But he’d woken and started throwing vile accusations my way, the most horrific of which was seducing his younger brother for money.
You see, my baby sister Trina is a piece of work. Beautiful and spoiled, she met Caleb Philipps while catering a charity gala, and expected him to propose any day now. But big brother Dominic was sure that Trina could be nothing but a gold-digger, intent on getting her paws on their family money.
So he set a trap for her. He figured that Trina would conveniently “forget” Caleb for any rich man who waggled a finger at her, and offer her body for a higher dollar. And I’d fallen right into it … I’d slept with Dominic that night. He was dynamic, charismatic, and one of the most interesting conversationalists I’d ever met. Our night together still haunted me, the feel of his fingers caressing my curves, tenderly tracing my body, his bulk pressed against me, inside me, in the most intimate of ways.
Except … I wasn’t Trina. It was a classic case of mistaken identity. When I told him that I was actually Becca, Trina’s twin sister, he was arrogant and insufferable.
“The old twin excuse?” he’d scoffed. “Please, you’re better than that.”
Except it was true. Trina and I are fraternal twins, orphaned at an early age. But Dominic’s private investigator had informed him that the redheaded Trina would be working the Caldwell event that night, and sure enough, I had red hair and was wearing her nametag.
Here’s where things get crazy. Dominic immediately hustled me to Koh-i-Noor, a lush tropical paradise. I’m not sure if the word kidnap is appropriate, because most kidnappings don’t take place on a private jet with a luxury island, but it is what it is. He figured that by separating Caleb and Trina, his brother would see the truth and drop Trina like a red-hot coal. And so I’d been forced to come with Dominic to Koh-i-Noor, a private island paradise where he wrote undisturbed in calm, serene peace.
Except I was now pregnant. That wonderful, sensuous night I’d shared with the arrogant man had worked its magic, and despite myself, I wanted this baby. With a rush of maternal pleasure, I could feel the new life fluttering in my belly, and I swore again to make sure my baby had every chance in the world – which started with an escape from Koh-i-Noor.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Dominic
The bitch was a piece of work. She’d taken the Sea-Doo in some ill-fated attempt to reach the Big Island, but had no idea that the puny gas tank would never be enough for a two hundred mile journey. I cursed her again. Furiously, I fired up the motorboat that I kept for emergencies, flooring the gas pedal as I swept out to sea.
Fuck! This girl had been more trouble than she was worth. Even I admit that my plan had gotten out of hand. Initially, I just wanted to prove to my baby brother Caleb that his intended fiancée was a scheming, lying bitch after his money. So I lay a trap for Trina, accosting her at a benefit event, sure that she’d drop Caleb if a richer man appeared on the horizon.
And I was right. The beautiful redhead slipped into my arms, spending an electric night in my bed, her curvy figure warm and luscious, gorgeous and uninhibited. But the next morning, the redhead had insisted that there’d been some kind of huge mix-up – that she was actually Becca, Trina’s twin sister.
I have to say, her ballsy approach impressed me. I mean, the whole “I have a twin” excuse is so hackneyed to be almost ridiculous, right? But the redhead kept insisting, saying that this was an unfortunate case of mistaken identity.
Turning a deaf ear, I brushed off her protestations and kidnapped her to my private island. The girl had been so warm, so loving, that I didn’t want her anywhere near my brother. I mean, she could talk the skin off a snake, and sweet-talking Caleb would be a piece of cake for the viper.
But something shifted along the way. First off, Trina wasn’t spoiled at all. My experience with gold diggers is that they’re invariably lazy, never lifting a finger if they don’t have to.
But Trina got along well with my staff, and I often found her helping around the house, cutting vegetables, tending the garden, etc.
Second, this girl is smart. Not just street smarts, but book smarts. She’s been helping me edit my latest novel, and I have to say, she has a talent for plot lines, character development, not to mention tactfully correcting my errors. It’s been a surprise, as most gold diggers are focused on clothes, jewelry, and the like.
So I’m not sure what to think anymore. But right now, it doesn’t matter. The redhead is out at sea somewhere, in serious danger, and although my brain says don’t panic, my heart is telling me a different story.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Becca
The water was surprisingly cold. I’d been swimming for ages, paddling along, watching the coral reefs drift underneath me. At first, I figured that it’d be an easy swim because there was plenty of daylight and the Caribbean waters are warm. But as I swam and swam and swam, the current started to chill, and the water changed as well. Although I’d started in pure azure seas, now the ocean was dark grey, cloudy and murky.
I straightened for a moment, treading water. Shit. There was no land in sight. In fact there was nothing around me, just miles of empty sea in every direction. Suddenly, I felt lost and very lonely, a stark sense of isolation overwhelming my senses.
But unbidden, my hand went to my belly and I rubbed the firmness there, as if assuring the unborn baby that everything would be okay. And it would be, because I needed to survive for myself and the sake of my child. Determinedly, I put my head down and started swimming again, in what I hoped was north.
But my limbs started feeling unbearably heavy, and while it wasn’t hard to float, it got to a point where I could hardly raise my arms out of the water. I started to kick only, praying that the combination of the flippers and waves would allow me to keep going. But currents of exhaustion were beginning to overwhelm, the rhythm of the ocean a soothing monotony, a white noise lulling me towards unconsciousness.
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