by Caro LaFever
“Give me another chance,” she pleaded. “Tomorrow I’ll have something put together to convince you.”
“Tomorrow, you’ll be stuffed into my boat and driven back to your home on Star Island.” He sneered. “The home you’ve taken for granted all your life, haven’t you?”
The charge was accurate, and hurt. “You don’t have to be so mean.”
His body canted toward her, the heat and scent of him no longer beguiling. His heat and scent now conveyed a sense of threat. “I’m not being mean, I’m telling you the hard, cold truth.”
Risa tried to think of something, anything. Nothing came to mind. Closing her mouth, she glared at him, knowing she’d lost.
“We’ve talked, it’s time for bed.” He swerved away from her, and stared at the bed. “And since you’ve reminded me of who and what you are, my invitation to use the bed is rescinded.”
She sniffed, her eyes filling. Not so much for the loss of the bed, but because she realized she’d come to almost like this man. Like his humor and his intelligence and his…
“You’re sleeping on the floor.”
Jiggs woofed right by her before licking her calf.
Yes, she liked his dog.
Not a thing about the caveman, though. Not one damn thing.
So what if he was an asshole?
He’d been an asshole most of his life.
Riq stared into the complete blackness of his shelter and told himself he had every right to do what he’d done. The woman hadn’t been invited to his island. She’d arrived unannounced. Instead of appreciating his restraint in the face of her rude behavior, she’d demanded all sorts of things from him. Her suitcase. Her acceptance into his home. His clothes. His shower. His shelter.
His damn dog’s affection.
Jiggs snored in his sleep.
There was absolute silence from the princesa. Who lay on the floor by his dog’s bed, he assumed. He didn’t know. After he’d made an excuse to check on the damage outside, he’d run across to the house and turned on the generator. After that, he’d run back here, flicked the shelter’s light off, climbed into the bed, and told her to shut up when she attempted to talk once more. He’d rolled over on the mattress and stared at the wall until she went quiet.
Sì, he was a jerk.
He had every right to be.
Not only had she made continuing demands, she’d charmed him without his realization until their talk. She’d churned his lust as well. None of it was wanted or appreciated, and she deserved to pay.
A soft sniffle came from below. The noise wasn’t his dog’s.
His jaw tightened.
It wasn’t his fault Hurricane Cindi decided to land on his island with a barreling blow. It wasn’t his fault his house creaked and groaned in a storm, driving a dog and a woman into a frenzy. And it certainly wasn’t his fault this shelter had only one bed. It had been designed with only one bed, because he’d never dreamed of having any other person on this island when the shelter was needed.
He tried to focus on the muffled roar of the rain and wind outside.
From the sound of it, Cindi must be right over them. It would be foolish in the extreme to make a run for his house again—arousing her curiosity once more and making his dog extremely worried. Leaving Jiggs and the woman in here with the bed to share between them wasn’t in the cards. Even if he tried, his dog would likely shiver into a lump of dejection. Whether or not the woman would throw a tantrum? He wasn’t sure.
The only thing he was sure of was she was out for his money. Not his body or his brain. Just his money. Like quite a few other women he’d met in the last few years.
His money.
He’d liked the money at first. It gave him a sense of accomplishment. A sense of being worthy again after losing his SEAL status. He enjoyed some of the process of making money. The analyzing, the investing, the ferreting out of a company’s secrets so he knew where it stood. Yet, he no longer enjoyed much of what else came with the billions.
His mouth twisted.
It still seemed impossible he’d reached that exalted status, but his financial advisors told him he had over a year ago.
Billions.
Except, during the last few months it had become a kind of Monopoly money to him. After getting a place like his island, after buying a new car and motorcycle, after ensuring he’d never have to work a day in his life again if he didn’t want to. Once he’d determined his popi and mimi and yaya and brothers were fine financially—something he’d had to do on the sly—
What was the point of more?
He supposed the point was making money for his SEAL buddies. They depended on his advice and his investment opportunities to make sure their families were well taken care of. Now, while they went on missions, and after, in case they didn’t come home. However, the mission of making money, he thought would replace the missions he’d gone on as a SEAL, just didn’t satisfy.
The knowledge had sunk into him during the course of the last year.
His foundation got the lion’s share of his profit at this point because he had more than enough money for the rest of his life. And he found it all impossibly boring, this making money business, other than the faint interest he sometimes took on a project.
Another sniffle came from the floor, followed by an accompanying woof. His dog’s yap sounded suspiciously like Jiggs was offering comfort.
Traitor.
A sliver of guilt slunk into his gut, making him angry. It had been less than an hour since he’d turned off the light and taken the bed.
Less than one damn hour.
She was like all those other women he’d met. It seemed like every time he met a girl now, she knew about the wealth. No longer could he kid and tease, flirt and have fun. Now, women came at him like he was the lodestar, and they needed him to give them the way forward.
The way forward to his money.
The blanket itched on his naked chest. He’d taken his T-shirt off because of the heat, but not his gym shorts because of her. The humidity in the room blistered his skin, making him sweat. He should have bought the bigger shelter with the air conditioning and shower, but he’d never imagined he’d be lying here on the one bed with a woman waiting in the dark.
Waiting for him not to be a jerk.
Let her wait.
Why he felt as if she waited, he didn’t know. He couldn’t read minds, though he was quite good at reading faces. Turning off the lights before he took a last look at her had been smart. He’d probably have seen such a forlorn expression on her face, he’d have capitulated right then.
The silence was filled with waiting. Female waiting.
Riq shifted on the bed, his muscles tense. He shouldn’t do it. He shouldn’t cave in.
The silence expanded, making it hard for him to draw a clean breath of air.
“Coño,” he barked.
His buddy jumped off his doggie bed. He could tell by the clicking of toenails on the steel floor. Jiggs barked, too.
“Get up here.” Sitting, he yanked the blanket off him, and stood.
His foot hit a part of her body.
A female yelp came from the floor.
He’d be damned if he said he was sorry. She should be saying that over and over again. “Get up.”
“What are you doing?” Her voice came from the blackness of the room, soft and hushed. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re what’s wrong.” Tired of waiting for her to take what he grudgingly offered, he leaned down, found one arm, and tugged.
She came up fast, so fast she slammed right into his sweating torso. “Ouch.”
“Get on the bed.” Before she could follow his orders, he pulled her from him and plopped her where he’d just left. “Go to sleep.”
Letting her arm go, he eased himself down on the floor, taking care with his bum knee.
Jiggs panted in his ear as he laid his head on the edge of the doggie bed. “Go to sleep, boy. It’ll be fine tomorrow.”
Then, he and his best buddy could enjoy his island in complete peace.
“Thanks.” The one word slid down from the bed, a hesitant, careful offer. “I really appreciate it.”
He grunted a response, because he didn’t want to engage in any kind of conversation with her. She’d only use it to wheedle her way into his brain and his cock, making him surly. This time tomorrow, she’d be gone for good, and he’d be glad.
Jiggs snuffled in his ear and gave him a lick.
Why Riq felt as if it were a warning, he had no idea.
Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo!
The Fairy Godmother
Chapter 16
“Me cago en diez.” The harsh crack of a kicking foot on the wooden dock, echoed across the calm sea, emphasizing the emotion behind the curse.
They were obvious swearwords, although she had no idea what they meant.
Risa stuffed the giggle down her throat. Not because she was happy about the circumstances. Not because she enjoyed seeing destruction of property or his distress at his loss. No, her odd urge to laugh was a combination of disgruntlement at his behavior towards her this morning and joy that this bought her time to figure out her plan so she could pitch it to him once more.
But the caveman was angry enough. She didn’t want to think what he’d do if he heard her laugh in the face of his disaster.
His boat was totaled.
Being from Miami, she’d seen her share of boats. Fancy boats, fast boats, fishing boats. She knew when she saw the cracks in the hull—total loss.
“God dammit it all to hell.” Swinging around, he stomped down the dock and toward the beach where she stood.
“I’m sorry about your boat,” she offered, since the man had given her his bed last night.
When she’d awakened in the hot, humid shelter, she’d been alone, dog and owner gone. By the time she’d washed her face in the small sink with lukewarm water and tried to tie a knot at the waistband of her shorts with no success, they still hadn’t returned. Assuming the hurricane had passed, she’d peered out of the shelter’s door to find the sky blue above and a mess down below.
The terrace was strewn with tree limbs and dirt. A large boulder had rolled into the center of the tiles, barely missing the mud-filled pool. A shed she hadn’t noticed last night lay drunkenly on one side, exposing a lawn mower and several rakes and brooms.
Yet, the breeze was sweet, and the sun bright. The storm had passed, and she was safe and alive.
And grateful for both.
Grateful to her unwilling host, she had to admit. Grateful enough about his saving her and feeding her and giving her the one bed, that she planned on being super nice when she saw him again. As though on command, he’d appeared from the back of his house, his dog panting by his side.
His appearance drew her attention to that amazing house of his.
In the clear light of day, it was even more impressive. She counted seven floors, or, more accurately, seven platforms stuck in and out of the banyan tree’s roots. There were wooden and steel stairs encircling the roots on the outside as well as the ones she’d climbed on the inside last night. Some of the platforms sported alfresco areas that appeared surprisingly undamaged from the hurricane.
“It’s amazing,” she gushed, using the same word she’d used before, because it was the only one that came to mind.
Stopping at the sound of her voice, he scowled like she’d ruined his day.
A tiny part of her heart twinged with hurt. She threw it off and pinned on a smile. “Good morning.”
“Is it?” His scowl didn’t diminish at her cheerful greeting.
Her irritation sprang to life. “Yes, it is. The hurricane is over and we’re okay.”
“Glad you’re okay, Princesa,” he drawled. “We all live to make you happy.”
Why did he have to be so mean? Sure, she’d come here uninvited, but she’d thought last night they’d made a sort of connection. A pact to keep things friendly. Apparently not, if his expression and attitude were an indication of his true feelings.
Trying to resurrect the odd peace that had fallen between them last night, she kept her smile on. “Is the power back on?”
A strange look flickered across his face, before he grimaced again in sullen distaste. “It doesn’t matter, since you’re leaving right now. Gracias a Dios.”
Risa sucked in a hot breath, offended aggravation overcoming any impulse to be nice. However, before she could point out he didn’t have to be so ugly, he paced past her, Jiggs at his heels.
“Time to get you to Miami,” he threw at her as he passed. “Time for me to have my private island private again.”
By his tone, she could tell he couldn’t wait to get rid of her. If he were successful, she’d only have the trip back home to convince him about her non-existent business plan. She needed to stall as much as she could. “If you would tie a knot in my shorts, like you did last night, I’d appreciate it.”
He stopped, his shoulders stiffening. “Do it yourself.”
“I tried and I couldn’t do it.”
Turning, he sneered. “You’re not good for much, are you?”
The question hurt. Not just her heart, but her pride. “I’m good at a lot of things.”
“Really?” Those thick brows rose and his expression turned amused. “What, exactly?”
Her brain went blank. If they were in Miami, she’d have a dozen things to counter him with. She was good at throwing a party and making friends. She could arrange flowers better than most florists. She made her parents happy by being her bubbly, beautiful self. And if pushed, she could use her chemistry degree for something worthwhile.
Out here, though, on this island, with no electricity to make her pretty, no people to make happy, no use for florist skills or chemistry, she really wasn’t good for much.
The realization made her throat clutch in silent dismay.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He swiveled and headed away from her once more.
Not knowing what else to do, she’d grabbed the bagging waistband and followed him to the disaster of his totaled boat. Taking another glance at the heap of metal, wood, and Fiberglas, she took in a deep breath and pasted on another one of her best smiles.
He stalked past her, without noticing the effort or responding in any way.
“Hey,” she said, not used to a man walking right past her smile.
She couldn’t say she was delighted to be stuck on this island with the jerk. No electricity meant no air conditioning. The pitiful dribble of water in the shelter wasn’t going to give her a shower. And she had no clothes—courtesy of the caveman. Yet, it was her only hope to save her family’s company. If she got a few days more to plot out a solid business proposal, she’d have some time to convince him it would work.
Time. That was what she needed.
And the wrecked boat gave her time. “I’m sure you can replace it fairly easily.”
He threw her a glare before heading up for the stairs leading to his tree house.
“You don’t have to look at me like that. I had nothing to do with the destruction of your boat.”
His march up the stairs came to a stop. Turning, he folded his powerful arms in front of him. The ink on his one arm glowed in contrast to his tan skin. For the first time, she noticed the black point at the end of the tattoo was some sort of sword.
The ironic, harsh tone of his voice cut through her examination. “Except you did arrive here uninvited, disturbing my peace.”
The charge was accurate, and also repetitive. Determination steeled her spine. “Get over it. I’m here and I can be excellent company if you’d give me a chance.”
“I’ve been in your company several times, Princesa. It’s never been excellent.”
His insult wasn’t accompanied with a smo
ldering look of attraction, something she’d become used to with men. It might have been something she could use to wheedle into his good graces. But she wasn’t that lucky. His gaze merely looked at her—a bland, bored blue.
Her hand tightened on the waistband. “We had fun last night.”
“Did we?” His stare didn’t change. “When was that?”
“When you showed me your watch.”
His head tilted, as if he were thinking about it. “Nope. It wasn’t fun. Not that I remember.”
“When we ate—”
“What I remember was having to carry a wet, bedraggled woman into the shelter when she stupidly stopped in the center of the terrace in the middle of a hurricane.” His gaze turned to a glare. “Which aggravated my knee. Not a lot of fun.”
She glanced at the knee and for the first time, noticed the white scars. Guilt flickered inside. “I’m sorry—”
“I also remember being badgered by an unprepared prima donna with her half-assed plan to save a failing business. That wasn’t fun at all.”
A flush rose to her cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and anger at him for not giving her one spec of a chance.
“And lastly, I remember sleeping on the hard floor last night, when by rights, I should have had a soft bed beneath me.”
“You offered.” The strike was feeble, but the only thing she had.
“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” The blue of his eyes turned steely. “There’s going to be no more of that going forward.”
“None of what?” Being nice? Being a good human being? Being more than a jerky caveman?
It was as though he’d heard her unspoken questions and took them as a compliment instead of a criticism. His lips curled into a grin and those eyes turned from steel to misty, dewy happiness.
Risa prided herself on making people happy. She took enormous pleasure when a person smiled because she’d done something pleasing. Still, she didn’t think she was going to enjoy what made this man happy.
Not one little bit.
The princesa definitely didn’t look royal.
The fact pleased him.