Jason shook himself. This was different. This girl was a virgin, or she had been until they'd gotten hot and heavy in the helicopter. She wasn't married, she hadn't killed anyone, and he'd picked her, not the other way 'round. She couldn't have known he'd bid on her auction, let alone win it. And hadn't she said in the helicopter that she'd never intended to go through with it, until she saw him and couldn't say no? He was still a rock god – and she'd fallen under his spell. He just had to weave it a bit more…magically. Or something like that. He itched to grab one of the romance books hidden under the couch to see if there were any suggestions in there he needed to be reminded about, but she could return at any minute, so he ticked the points off in his head instead.
Exotic location: check.
Champagne: check.
Hotel room to themselves: check.
No phone calls to interrupt them: check.
A fancy dinner to seduce her over: well, he'd check that as soon as she returned and told him what she wanted.
Besides him, of course.
He wouldn't need any book after all that. He could play her body like a guitar, so well that she'd be begging for an encore.
"Hey, what do you want to order for dinner? I'm getting room service, baby," he called.
She emerged, her expression as cloudy as the sky outside. "Stop calling me that."
"My dear Miss Chastity, " Jason favoured her with an extravagantly low bow. "Would you do me the honour of informing me of your culinary preferences for our evening repast so that I may –"
"And that, too. I'm not your baby and I'm not chaste. Not any more. And if I forget, I'll have the whole experience on video to remind me." The girl whose name he didn't know slumped onto his couch.
Jason snorted. "It wasn't a very good video. Grainy as shit. They didn't even get the whole thing. Just the bit where I fell on top of you. You can't see your tits or anything. Now, if they'd been spying on us in the helicopter, they could have gotten some really steamy stuff."
She paled until her face was lighter than the couch. "Oh God."
"Nah, just call me Jay." He grinned, but she didn't seem to get the joke, so he decided to ask her again. "What do you want for dinner? There's only one chef on duty, so we have to get our order in."
"I don't care. Whatever."
Jason didn't really care what he ate, either. It was the dessert sitting on his couch he was interested in. He called room service, told the chef to bring a romantic dinner for two, and left it at that. Let the chef make decisions like steak or prawns or whatever.
He stretched out on the other couch, regarding the girl. "So, what do you want to do for the next hour while we wait for dinner?"
"Pretend none of this happened." At least that's what Jason thought she said. It was muffled by the cushion she'd buried her face in.
"We can pretend this is your first time all over again, if you like." He coughed out a laugh. "Just with a bit more space, a more comfortable seat and no helicopter."
"It's not the sex!" she snapped. "It's the cameras! What if it ends up on the news?"
Jason shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time. Won't be the last, either, I bet. Part of being a public figure. You should be used to it. You've been all over the news for weeks with your auction. I bet there isn't an adult in Australia who hasn't heard of you. As for me, well…the media love sex stories about me. Especially when I do it in public. The only thing they'd like more is if I got arrested." There was a sour taste in his mouth at that. Xan and Shou had talked about bringing the police in. Good thing the helicopter had busted the satellite dish, then. No one could call the police and there was nowhere for their helicopter to land with Shou's broken bird on the pad. Now he had the whole long weekend to make this girl forget his unfortunate fainting fit. A four-day sex marathon seemed like an ideal distraction. He'd enjoy it, but so would she. He'd make certain of that. Jason stared up at the ceiling, dreamily considering all the things they could do together in four days. "Do you like chocolate?" he asked.
"Oh God, I feel sick," she moaned. "I'll never live this down."
Jason snorted. "Stop making such a big deal out of it. It's not a big deal, I promise you. The naked pictures of the Duchess of Cambridge on holiday lasted only a week in the news before everyone forgot about them. Yeah, you were naked, but no one can see anything. Not even your tits, I told you. You'll get five minutes of fame and then they'll forget about you."
Just like they'd forgotten about him while he'd been hiding out on the island. Not for much longer, though. He could see the headlines now: ROCK STAR BUYS GIRL'S VIRGINITY AT AUCTION.
"The news might, but no one else will. My family and friends will all know that I sold myself for sex. That I'm a prostitute." She sniffled and stared balefully at him with tear-reddened eyed. "And that you bought me."
Jason waved her worries away. "Nah, I didn't buy you. Or pay for sex, either. I only bought your virginity. Something you didn't even want any more. I don't need to pay for sex, baby."
"Stop calling me baby!" She jumped to her feet. "My name's Flavia. Seeing as the whole world will know soon enough, you may as well know. My name's Flavia and I'm a travel agent from York. There. Now you know."
"Flavia." He tasted her name, liking the exotic sound of it. "Flavia, with the salt-flavoured pussy, who seduced a rock star in a helicopter." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "We can do it all over again after dinner. All night, if you like. As long as I get to taste – "
"Stop. Just…stop. I feel sick. I'm not hungry any more. I’m…I'm going to bed." She took two steps before she turned. "Alone." A few seconds later, Jason heard the door of the guest room shut.
Fuck. Flavia was as crazy as Phuong. Why did he keep ending up with crazy chicks?
Shaking his head, Jason lay back on the couch. Figuring Flavia out was more than he could manage tonight. So much for Good Friday. Instead of good shit happening, it had turned into an unmitigated disaster. Maybe tomorrow would improve his Easter. It had fucking better.
Twenty-Seven
Try as she might, Flavia didn't sleep. Her starved stomach snarled at her for forgetting dinner, but she knew she couldn't keep anything down. Round and round her head ran the worry about what her family and friends would say when they found out. Chasing it was the memory of Jay shrugging the whole sex video off as no big deal. It might not be a big deal for him to be caught on camera with his clothes off – God knew she'd found enough pictures of his body online to fantasise about for the next decade – but she'd never live this down. She could lose her job, her friends…everything. She'd never be able to show her face in York again. She'd have to move to….London or Toronto or somewhere on the opposite side of the world to home and everyone and everything she'd ever known, so they could busily forget they'd ever known her.
At least she had the money to travel wherever she wanted now. How ironic. She'd need it.
Some time in the early hours of the morning, when it was still dark but some hopeful birds had decided that maybe it wasn't quite dark enough to stay asleep, Flavia came to her own decision. She couldn’t face Jay any more. When the sun rose, she'd sneak out of the house. She'd find the hotel manager and beg her to find her a way off the island, or at least hide her until she could escape. She fell into a light doze, waking to find sunlight streaming into the room through the gaps in the blinds. Time to go. Time to leave behind all thoughts of Jay and auctions and…
Flavia didn't want to think about what had happened between her and Jay in the helicopter, though the sweet ache between her thighs seemed intent on reminding her of everything he'd done to her body. Certainly more than she'd bargained for, though he'd definitely had her hearty consent at the time. How could she refuse him? The man was lust on legs. Every Aussie girl's fantasy. Even hers. Now if only she didn't associate the very sight of him with nausea at the thought of the video.
Damn it. Last night he'd seemed eager to repeat their…helicopter tryst, and she'd been so tempted to give in, but
just the thought of the world knowing about what she and Jay had done in that sordid not-quite-sex tape had turned her desire to dust.
She couldn't stay with him. She'd feel cheap all over again and not enjoy a single minute of it. Not even when he…
Flavia forced herself to forget about the blissful things Jay did with her body as she yanked on some clothes. Scraping her hair back into a ponytail, she stared at her hollow-eyed reflection in the tiny mirror. She hadn't slept a wink and she wouldn't sleep at all until this whole mess was over. First step, getting the hell out of here. She shoved her belongings back into her suitcase and checked her watch. Quarter past seven. The manager might be awake. At least Jay wouldn't be. She'd heard him banging around the house for hours after she went to bed. It wasn't until well after midnight that he'd gone to bed or passed out on the couch or whatever rock stars did at the end of the day.
She carried her suitcase instead of wheeling it, hoping to make as little sound as possible so she wouldn't wake Jay if he was asleep on the couch. When she reached the sitting room, there was no sign of him, so she breathed a sigh of relief and dropped her heavy burden beside the door, ready to collect when she needed it.
The automatic door took her a few seconds to work out before she managed to wave it open. Palm trees and a perfect morning enticed her out, reminding her that Romance Island Resort was a paradise on Earth that only a select few got to see. She didn't want to think about the price she'd paid to be one of them. Much too high…but too late, now, too. Time for damage control and working out alternate travel arrangements, both things she was good at. Bye-bye to Miss Chastity the hooker; welcome back to Flavia the award-winning travel agent. Even the thought brought a tiny smile to her lips. She'd always wanted to see Europe and Canada, and travel agents could work anywhere. She'd miss everyone, though.
She found her way back to the staff canteen without seeing a single human being, but the clash of pans in the kitchen told her the cook was awake. Flavia considered asking him for directions to the manager's house, but she decided against it. It wasn't a huge island – surely the staff quarters would be close by. Figuring it was a good a choice as any, Flavia followed one of the paths she hadn't taken yesterday. Within minutes, the jungle parted to reveal parallel lines of prefabricated mining dongas – the staff accommodation, she assumed.
That was all well and good, but she'd seen bigger stables for Shetlands. The hotel manager surely wouldn't be housed in one of these. Perhaps if she continued, she'd come to the senior staff accommodation. Or, failing that, someone she could ask for directions. Surely everyone else on the island knew where the boss lived.
In the end, she didn't have to ask. The path ended at a deep, shady veranda with only three wide-spaced doors instead of the regimented six of each donga block. The doors bore signs: Head Chef, Security Chief and Hotel Manager. Bingo.
Flavia stepped over a pair of flippers and made her way through the piles of diving gear to the manager's door. She rapped her knuckles lightly on the laminate, then a second time, harder.
The knob clicked and turned before the door creaked open.
Flavia took a step back, confused.
Shou adjusted his boxer briefs, like he'd pulled them on in a hurry. "Can I help you?"
Oh God, had she interrupted the pilot and the hotel manager having sex? Flavia felt her face grow hot. "I just wanted to ask the manager when I'll be able to leave the island." Because it was the last place on Earth she wanted to be. Romance Island? The place should be called Lust Island.
"I'll tell her." Shou glanced inside. "It might be an hour or two before she gets back to you on that, though. We were in the middle of…breakfast when you arrived." He winked.
Thoughts of Jay talking about how she tasted danced through her mind, accompanied by remembered sensations of his tongue inside her. Inside this man's helicopter, for heaven's sake. Oh God, what if he knew about it?
"Yeah. Okay. See you later, then," Flavia mumbled, retreating.
She needed to change her name, move to another country and do something to change her appearance, too. Dye her hair. Start wearing glasses. Big, ugly ones that hid half her face. If that didn't work, she'd have to consider plastic surgery. That wouldn't come cheap, and from all she'd heard, it was bloody painful, too.
This was all James' fault. If he hadn't slept with that prostitute and ended up infamous across the internet, she'd be in Bali with the girls, gearing up for a wedding, instead of wishing she could hide for the next year. Maybe two. She'd booked plenty of gap year trips for people, wanting to work in London as bartenders for a few months in between backpacking around Europe. Pouring drinks couldn't be too hard, and everyone loved an Aussie accent. Provided no one recognised her…
"You're up early."
Flavia froze. The last person she wanted to see right now was Tim the cameraman. "I have to go," she blurted out, quickening her step.
"No, wait! I need to ask you something. What would you do if I promised to keep your name out of the press?"
Had he read her roiling mind? Flavia forced herself to stop. If her family never found out… "Anything. I'd do anything." What did she have to lose?
Tim grinned. "Well, it's like this. When we thought the video was evidence of a crime, we figured the police would get it and that's about it. Now we know there's more to the story, it's worth a whole lot of money to the right media. And it's worth a whole lot more if we can add an exclusive interview with the girl in the video. Maybe even enough to fund the first few seasons of our series. What do you say, Flavia? One little interview, just one tiny hour of your time, and no one will ever know who you are, or should I just sell the story to the highest bidder, along with everything I know?"
Flavia swallowed. If her family and friends never had to know what she'd done…
Twenty-Eight
Xan tore her eyes away from the swimming rock star. Why did he have to swim past her kitchen window at the same time every morning, wearing nothing but a cheeky grin? "Who was it?"
Shou ambled into the kitchen. He uncapped her jar of instant coffee and took a suspicious sniff before he spooned some into a mug.
"Shou, who was at the door?"
"Mr Felix's latest girl. Seems she's had her fill of him, too." He tipped the contents of the kettle into his mug. "She said she'd speak to you later about it. Before I could say anything, she took off."
Xan's gut clenched. What had Jay done overnight? Nothing to mar that undeserved perfect body on display outside her window, evidently, but Flavia had seemed almost eager to spend last night with him. If this morning she'd changed her mind again… Xan kneaded her aching forehead. She couldn't keep up with the rock star or his…whatever Flavia was. Paid companion, perhaps?
"I better go see what she wants," Xan said, heading for the door. She paused to add, "If you want more than coffee, breakfast's served at seven in the staff dining room. You may as well leave your linen where it is in case I can't raise anyone on the radio to come get you. I still think you'd sleep more comfortably in one of the staff bedrooms instead of on my lumpy couch."
"But then I might miss out on joining you on your morning swim."
Xan forced herself not to look at the lagoon. "Yeah, I won't be going for a swim until a bit later." No way in hell was she sharing the lagoon with a naked rock star. Especially not when she was wearing a dive mask that let her see everything. She wanted to see fish, not his dangly bits.
Ugh. But first she needed to see about Flavia. If she wasn't dealing with one Jay Felix mess, it was another, Xan fumed as she marched out the front door.
The girl hadn't gotten far. She'd been bailed up by one of the film crew. The talkative one, Tim.
Xan caught the words interview, video and sell. All three combined were enough for her to forget Jay Felix to focus on an even bigger wanker than the rock star. "You even attempt to sell resort property and I'll have you arrested for theft, then sued for damages!"
The cameraman stared at her. "
What are you talking about? I haven't stolen anything." Between his mild surprise and casual stance, Xan saw red.
"Every frame of footage you take on this private island belongs to Romance Island Resort. Any attempt to sell or otherwise transfer resort property is theft. That includes data in any form." Xan stopped so close to Tim, she could see the sweat beading his forehead. "The moment you set foot on this island, your confidentiality clause kicked in. You talk to the press and you'll be in breach of contract." Some days, Xan truly loved her job. She dropped her voice to a whisper. "You do that and not only will you not get paid for this job, but I'll be forced to invoice you for your use of resort property. The flights, the accommodation, the helicopter charter I'll arrange to have you removed from the island…do you know how much it costs to stay at Romance Island Resort?"
"Eight hundred dollars a night for their standard room. More during peak season and long weekends," Flavia piped up.
How in hell did she know that? Xan wondered, then remembered that Flavia was a travel agent. One who'd clearly done her research before coming here.
Xan recovered quickly. Her tone was cool as she continued, "I trust that your team will act like the professionals you are, and fulfil your contract to the letter without any more…unfortunate incidents. Especially ones I'd have to refer to the resort's legal team. You're here to film the island, not the guests. Are we clear?"
Tim looked like he wanted to argue. His mouth opened to make a mistake.
Xan knew the look well. She'd lost count of the number of backpackers who'd tried to argue their way out of every dollar of their expenses. Just like she had a thousand times before, she stared down the bloke who thought he could beat her until he realised he didn't stand a chance.
Tim mumbled an answer that Xan took as reluctant acquiescence. Then she watched him leave.
"What if he goes and emails someone now about everything that happened yesterday?" Flavia said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"The lawyers will have him. He'll be bankrupt before breakfast," Xan said loud enough for the retreating cameraman to hear. "Besides, like everything else here at the island, both the internet and phones are down until Tuesday. We're cut off from the world until then. The zombie apocalypse could happen on the mainland and we wouldn't even know."
The Rock Star's Virginity (Romance Island Resort #3) Page 11