The door to the passenger lounge opened and a tall, wiry stranger came on board.
“Leona Gary?” he asked, stooping slightly to keep his head from hitting the ceiling.
“Yes,” Leona replied without getting up. “Who are you?”
“You can call me George,” the man smiled, his teeth bright white against his chocolate skin. He was wearing a faded Hawaiian print shirt that looked a size too large for him, baggy beige cargo shorts, and bright blue flip flops. But, despite his unimpressive wardrobe, Leona had to admit that he was a beautiful man. His large, dark eyes were framed by thick, curling lashes and his face was slender and well-defined, with a straight nose and sensuous lips. What little she could see of his arms and legs were well-muscled, though thin, and his hands were large with long, pianist’s fingers. Leona caught herself wondering what those fingers would feel like on her skin. “Marco’s been called to the capital to sort out some bureaucratic screw-up, so he asked me to come get you. I’m the project manager.”
“Marco’s not here?” Leona repeated disbelievingly.
“Sorry,” George shook his head. “But don’t worry. We’ll take good care of you.” Gesturing for Leona to follow, George headed back outside.
Unsure what to do, Leona slid on her designer sunglasses and followed him. Outside, the situation was worse than she could have imagined. She was in the literal middle of nowhere. Before her was the dirty concrete building, the dirty gaggle of children, and a dirty Landrover. Past the dirty building, which she could only assume was supposed to be the airport, was a dirt road lined with small, square, concrete houses interspersed with the honest-to-God stick and mud huts. Behind her, jungle came streaming down a low mountain like a green tidal wave threatening to engulf the dusty little village. Leona turned in a slow circle, taking it all in, her horror mounting with every second.
“What do you think?” George asked with a smile, completely misreading her stupefied silence.
The spell was broken and Leona turned on him. “Is this some kind of sick joke?” she yelled. “Where the hell are we, the 17oos? This is totally unacceptable. Call Marco right now and tell him to get me out of here. I mean, God, does this place even have cell reception?” She rummaged in her enormous purse, searching for her phone.
“No,” said George softly, confirming her worst fears, “it doesn’t. And Marco is busy right now, like I said. I’m afraid you’ll simply have to deal with it.”
“Deal with it? This place is literally made of dirt. I can’t stay here. Where’s the pilot? He’ll take me back to New York.”
George shook his head. “He said his instructions are to leave you here. Apparently, your parents think this will be a ‘character building experience’ for you.”
“They what?” Leona screeched, stamping her foot. “How dare they, those hypocrites! Oh, my god, this is my actual worst nightmare. This is the ugliest place I have ever seen.”
George raised his eyebrows. “Marco forgot to mention you were so charming,” he said.
“Are you giving me attitude? Because I will have you fired, John.”
“George,” he corrected her. “And you can’t have me fired, Leona. I’m afraid that’s one thing your father can’t do for you.”
“Ugh!” Leona crossed her arms, glaring at George, all appreciation for his graceful beauty gone. “I thought you were supposed to take care of me?”
“And I am. I’ve brought the Landrover to take you up the mountain to the village where I’ll make sure you’re safely installed in your hut, ate a decent supper, and correctly covered your bed with the mosquito net.”
“Oh my God – we’re going up the mountain?” Leona pointed an accusing finger at the forest behind her. “How much farther from civilization can we get?”
“Well, get in the car and you’ll see. I’ve already loaded your bags. I hope you brought some practical walking shoes along with the kitchen sink,” George told her, shooting a disparaging look at the two enormous bags in the back seat.
“Ugh!” Leona huffed again but, not seeing another option, climbed into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind her.
***
Two hours of whiplash-inducing dirt road later, they arrived. The mountain village was even smaller than the dusty town at the airstrip and it had far fewer concrete houses. Here most things were made of packed earth combined with mud and sticks – including Leona’s one-room hut. As George dropped her bags in the corner, Leona stared around her in horror. The hut had a dirt floor, a bed with a large mosquito net, a kerosene lantern, and an empty basin. There were no windows, no electric lights, and no bathroom.
“Where am I supposed to shower?” Leona asked. “Or pee for that matter?”
George untied the mosquito net and deftly tucked it under the corners of the mattress. “There’s an outhouse around the back. But you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to shower. There’s no electricity or running water here. But don’t worry. No one will care if you’re a bit smelly tomorrow. Once we get working everyone will be smelly.”
“Wait – working? Working on what, exactly?” Leona asked, terror rising.
“Didn’t Marco tell you?” George asked. “We’re building the village a school.”
“Building a school? You expect me to build a school?”
“Well, not by yourself, obviously. But we’ll put you to work mixing concrete or laying cinder blocks. I’m sure that, with time, even you can learn to be useful.”
“Oh, gee, thanks. Do you know how much I’m worth? I don’t need to be useful.”
“Okay,” said George affably. “Then sit in your hut and sulk for the rest of your time here. It’s really all the same to me. Are you hungry?”
“No,” Leona snapped, glowering at him. She was starving but was terrified of what they might try to feed her.
“Okay,” George said again. “There’s a bottle of fresh water in the corner if you get thirsty,” he pointed to a large, recycled pop bottle that Leona hadn’t noticed. “I’ll be by tomorrow to bring you breakfast and take you to the site. Don’t forget to tuck in the last corner of the mosquito net when you get into bed. Malaria is pretty common around here. Sleep well.”
When George left, Leona crawled into the bed, lay down, and began to cry. For the first time in her life, she felt hopeless and lonely.
***
The next morning Leona woke up to the sound of someone knocking on her door. For a moment she couldn’t remember where she was. The room was dark, the only light a faint glow coming from under the badly-fitted door.
“What the…” she murmured, slowly sitting up. Then it all came rushing back and she groaned, burying her face in her hands.
“Leona?” The knocking continued, now joined by George’s voice. “I have your breakfast. Time to get going.”
Snarling silently in the direction of the door, Leona tried to get out of bed only to get tangled in the mosquito net. She swore quietly. “One second,” she called as she flailed.
Finally escaping the netting, she wrenched the door open, glowering at the tall man.
George raised his eyebrows. “Your hair doesn’t care for humidity, I take it?” he asked.
Horrified, Leona’s hands raced to her head, where she could feel that her usually perfect curls had become an enormous, tangled mane. She moaned.
“Breakfast?” George asked brightly, holding up a chipped bowl of beige sludge and a tin cup of dark liquid. “It’s corn porridge. Very filling. And coffee. You’ll need it. No milk, I’m afraid. Hope you like it black.”
Leona’s lower lip trembled.
“I even managed to find you a spoon, though everyone else thought that was ridiculous. But I explained that Americans are prudes and are scared of eating with their hands. The villagers send their condolences.”
Leona looked at him as if he were an alien, her hands still trying to calm her enormous hair.
“Take the food,” George said. “You need to eat. Not even you can survive on
self-pity and disdain forever.”
Leona’s stomach was clamoring for food after missing dinner last night and, gingerly, she accepted the bowl and looked around for a place to sit.
“Most people just squat,” George said, sitting himself down on the ground cross-legged.
Closing her eyes briefly, Leona followed suit, cautiously lowering herself to the ground. The corn porridge was relatively flavorless and she ate it quickly, wanting to get the experience over as fast as possible. When it was done, she washed it down with a few gulps of bitter coffee. “Blech,” she said, making a face.
George nodded. “Do you want sugar in it next time?”
“God, yes,” said Leona. “Anything.”
“Your wish is my command,” said George with a wry smile. He clambered to his feet and held out a hand to help Leona up. “Time to get to work.”
“Can I at least brush my teeth and get dressed first?” asked Leona.
George pretended to ponder this. “Oh, well… I suppose,” he said with a smile. Today Leona’s grumpiness seemed to amuse him more than anything.
“So good of you,” Leona grumbled, closing the door behind her.
***
The school they were building was at the end of the village’s one and only street. It was a square, two room affair, destined to hold about fifty children. Its walls were made of homemade cinder blocks that would eventually be covered in a mud – or plaster if they could afford it. The main concern was purchasing the books and writing materials that would go inside.
At the moment, two of the walls were about waist height, while the foundation of the other two was still being dug. George told her that they were hoping that Marco would bring back the glass for much-anticipated windows when he returned from the capital so that they could finish the first of the walls. To Leona’s surprise, it wasn’t just hired laborers building the school – everyone with a spare moment was pitching in. Women came in a steady stream offering water, black coffee, and fried bread to snack on, and children, shrieking with laughter, carried small buckets of dirt or concrete, helping in whatever way they could. Leona, who had planned to sit on a bench and sulk the whole day, felt a pang of guilt to see children happily helping with such exhausting work.
One of the children, a young girl with four braided pigtails and a faded pink dress, came forward and shyly took hold of Leona’s hand. “Do you want to work with us?” she asked, looking up at the New Yorker with an enormous smile. “I like your hair,” she added. “You look like a lion.”
George snorted with laughter and Leona shot him a dirty look. “Thanks…I guess,” she said. She wasn’t used to children. “Uh… what’s your name?”
“Loli,” said the girl, grinning even wider. “What’s yours?”
“Leona.”
Loli giggled and yelled something in a language Leona couldn’t understand to her friends. “Your name is like a lion too!” said Loli.
“I… yeah, I guess it is,” said Leona and she smiled for the first time since her plane had landed.
“Ok. Come on, lion lady,” said a boy in a Superman t-shirt, taking Leona’s other hand and tugging her towards the school. “We’re carrying mud. It’s easy. I can see that you don’t have a lot of muscles, but don’t worry. Even you can do it.”
Leona could hear George laughing as the children led her away.
The day went by much more quickly than Leona thought possible. She spent the whole time with the village children and found that she actually liked their contagious laughter and blunt honesty. The work wasn’t as hard as she’d thought it would be and, early in the day, she discovered an unexpected upside: the opportunity to watch George at work. She often found her attention wandering from the task at hand when she caught sight of him shirtless and glistening under the relentless equatorial sun, his lean muscles rippling as he worked – only to be brought back to the present by the raucous laughter of her young coworkers when she fumbled a bucket.
Unfortunately, by the time he came to get her at the end of the day, he’d put his shirt back on. As he approached, she smiled and straightened, massaging her lower back. She had a smear of dirt on her forehead and he smiled, licking his thumb and gently rubbing it away. Startled by the tender gesture, Leona let him.
“You’re all done for the day, Leona,” he told her when the dirt was gone. “Let’s get you a shower.”
“Already?” Leona was surprised. “Wow, great. And God, yes! I’m covered in grime.”
George nodded, surreptitiously giving her a once over, noting the way sweat made her thin t-shirt cling to her breasts. “This way,” he said, turning back towards her hut. Leona waved goodbye to the kids and followed him.
Once inside her hut, George picked up the empty basin she’d seen the night before and handed it to her. “Take this up to the well and fill it with water. You can shower up there if you want, or bring it back here and shower in private. People are used to public bathing here so it’s really up to you.”
“I need to go get the water?” Leona repeated incredulously. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve just spent all day working like a goddamn farmhand. I am not going to get water.”
“Well, I guess you won’t shower in that case,” George replied, the soft smile he’d had since he came to fetch her at the construction suddenly vanishing.
“What? Are you kidding me? This is outrageous!” Leona shouted, standing nose to nose with him. “Besides,” she waved her arms, “the water will be freezing! I don’t take cold showers. I’m not a Neanderthal!”
“No,” George agreed, his face inches from hers, “you’re a self-centered, spoiled, American brat who has no idea about the real world!” he shouted back.
“At least I’m not a self-righteous, sarcastic asshole!” Leona countered, grabbing hold of his shirt and pulling their bodies flush against each other. “Ever since I got here, you’ve been—mmf!”
She didn’t get to finish because George had kissed her, his hands buried in her tangled hair. Leona’s surprise was quickly swallowed by pleasure as his tongue explored her mouth, his lips soft but insistent. Wrapping one hand in her hair, he pulled her head back, exposing her throat to his warm mouth. As he trailed hot kisses along her jaw, his other hand snaked around her waist and cupped her ass, raising her onto her tiptoes so that he could reach her neck more easily. Leona wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his. When his mouth reversed direction and he ran his tongue from her collarbone to her jaw, she moaned out loud.
“Shhh,” he whispered, letting go her hair to cover her mouth with his hand. “These huts aren’t very soundproof.” Then he removed his hand and brought her back into a deep kiss. His strong fingers kneaded the soft flesh of her ass as he kissed her, making her pussy tingle and drip. “God, I’ve wanted to get my hands on your ass since you got off that plane,” he murmured, his hot breath sending goose bumps along her skin. “You’re so beautiful.”
“Despite being a spoiled brat?” she countered, gasping as he nipped the sensitive skin of her throat.
“Yep,” he replied, lifting her onto his hips and bringing one hand up to cup her breast. His thumb brushed her nipple through the thin fabric of her t-shirt and she gasped again at the sudden sensation. “And that’s saying something,” he finished.
“Asshole,” she muttered, but she smiled as she kissed the muscular column of his throat, her fingers raking through his short curls.
Chuckling, George carried Leona to the bed, briefly letting go of her to tie the mosquito net out of their way. Turning back to her, he made quick work of her outfit, leaving the dirty, sweaty clothes in a pile on the floor. Licking his lips, he knelt between her legs and ran his tongue in a cool, wet line from her breastbone to her pussy, making her moan and clutch at his hair.
Slowly working his way back up to her breasts, he took one in each of his hands, his large palms enclosing them easily, despite their size. Lifting them up one by one, he pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses to thei
r delicate underside, nipping the skin here and there and making her whimper. Teasing one nipple between his fingers, he licked the other with the flat of his tongue, the rough surface sending a shiver of pleasure through Leona. She arched her back, wanting more, wanting him to take her tits into his mouth. He obliged.
First one and then the other, he sucked and licked her sensitive breasts until her nipples were hard and glistening, and Leona was writhing underneath him. She could feel the pressure mounting behind her clit, even though he was nowhere near her pussy. Rapidly, he flicked one nipple with his tongue, as if it were her clit, while one hand roughly massaged her other breast, his fingers firm on her ample flesh. “Come for me,” he growled and sucked hard on her nipple.
Big Bad Billionaires [Volume 1] Page 58