by Lexi Duval
“You will visit again soon?” asks my mom, hope in her eyes.
I shake my head.
“No, mom, you're coming to me next time!”
And so I leave, feeling more positive than I have in months, with a new spring in my step and a conviction hardening inside me.
I step out of the house on the front lawn, walk down the short path to the gate, and lift my eyes to the cab I ordered to pick me up.
Only it's not there.
In its place, sits a luxury Mercedes, the vision of a driver with a black hat behind the wheel. And standing by the passenger door at the back, holding a bouquet of flowers and wearing the sharpest suit I've ever seen, is the man I've been trying to forget.
Gray steps forward, his eyes never leaving me, and stops a few feet short.
I'm stuck to the ground, my feet growing roots at the sudden sight of him.
“What...are you doing here?” I mumble.
He holds the flowers almost awkwardly, his poise seemingly lost for a moment.
“Randall told me you lived her. I've been trying to get hold of you, Ashley, but I couldn't get through.”
“My phone's been turned off.”
“Ah, I see.”
He inches forward, and passes the beautiful bouquet to me, the scent of the flowers drifting up my nose.
“These are for you. I...I missed you.”
My stoney visage threatens to crumble, my heart pulsing hard behind my ribs. But I don't say a word.
“I'm sorry about how we left things. I didn't think about how it might make you feel. But...I've been really busy working recently and...”
“And you didn't have time to call,” I cut in bluntly.
He takes another half step toward me.
“I was a coward, Ashley. But I want you to let me make it up to you.”
No... I can't let him get inside me again. I won't...
He takes my hand, his large fingers gripping me softly, delicately, tenderly.
“You were never a whore to me, Ashley. I only paid you because I didn't want you going back to the show room. I couldn't bare the thought that you might do that, with all that easy money available.”
“I wasn't going back, Gray...”
“I understand that now. But, if you'll let me, I want you to be something else to me.”
My heart hammers, and I can't resist his magnetic pull.
“I want you to be mine.”
I hesitate, thinking of all the strides I've made in the last couple of days, all the promises I told myself I'd stick to. That I'd focus only on myself, on my work, on my family...
“No, Gray,” I tell him. “I can't just be your plaything. I have to think about myself here...”
“No, no, not just a plaything.”
He eyes are earnest, his expression full of truth.
“I want you to be my girlfriend, Ashley. I don't care about any of the past. I just want you. No tricks, no deceit. Just you and me, together.”
He gently tugs at my hand, pulling me toward him, and his lips descend onto mine. We kiss softly, the contract in my mind being signed and sealed once more.
“OK,” I say, pulling back. “I'll be yours, if you'll be mine.”
He smiles, and we kiss again, and I let just one more thing slip into my priority list.
The man I can't say no to. The man who's the greatest I've ever had. The man who, I hope, will stick to his word.
Because I'm his, and there's nothing I can do about it.
STRANDED WITH A BILLIONAIRE
PART ONE
Prologue
I wake from a hazy dream with a heavy jolt.
“Sorry for the disturbance, folks. We're just hitting a patch of turbulence, so buckle up tight because this one's looking rough.”
The blasé tone of the pilot helps put me at ease, but I'm still clutching tight at the arm of my chair. I suppose he's been through this a million times before.
Stay calm, Libby, you're more likely to win the lottery than die in a plane crash.
Around me I see a few alarmed expressions, but most look pretty relaxed. The private jet is small, only carrying a capacity of 20 excluding staff, and we're just about maxed out.
Still, the plane rumbles and shakes and drops periodically in the sky, and I feel my head about to explode from the weird changes in air pressure. I quickly fasten my belt and tuck myself in tight as an air hostess darts for her own seat at the front of the plane.
To my right across the aisle, my colleague Benjy sits with a placid expression. In fact, he looks like he's almost enjoying it, with a light in his eyes and the hint of a smile on his face.
“You OK there, Lib?” he asks.
“Fine, just fine, Ben. Thanks for asking.”
He laughs at the obvious fact that I'm clearly not fine.
“I wouldn't worry, I've been through this shit a hundred times. You kinda learn to enjoy it, you know, like a roller coaster ride. In fact, you'd be more likely to die on one of those probably...”
“Um...I'd rather if you didn't use the word die right now if that's OK.”
“Sure thing. I'll keep quiet.”
He runs his fingers over his mouth in a motion of zipping his lips, and relaxes back into his chair, the plane still bouncing and jolting around as if it's being shaken by the hand of God.
I swear, every time I get on a fucking plane, this happens. No wonder I don't like flying.
After a solid five minutes of impending death, the plane begins to level out and the thick clouds outside the window begin to thin. When we hit a patch of clean air and the plane levels out, the captain's voice floats mellifluously back out from the speakers.
“All done, folks. Wasn't as bad as anticipated. Just relax and take your seat belts off. I'll call in again if we hit any more pockets of rough air.”
My heart rate gradually deceased back to a stable level, but still maintains a slightly raised pace at the thought that there might be more to come.
Around me, belts are loosened and a chatter fills the air once more, the sound of business negotiations ramping up again. My colleague, Benjy, and I are both young legal aids, brought in to help with the nitty gritty of a big deal involving billionaire Flint Young.
At the far end of the small jet, I can see Flint sitting there, surrounded by lawyers and business advisers, hashing out the broad strokes of a new real estate deal in Sydney. He sits in the center, the king of it all, these highly intelligent and educated professionals bickering over this and that.
It's a sight I'm hardly used to seeing. I'm still very new to the law profession, straight out of law school and pretty green with regards to the dynamics of such a massive deal. For Benjy and me, this is more about gaining experience, and right now we're sitting at the back, watching it all unfold.
The best bit, though, is the free trip. We'd left LA early this morning, and have been flying for hours straight across the wide expanse of the Pacific. The deal will take us to Sydney, where we'll get a few days to explore and enjoy the sights once the deal has been struck and everything signed off.
I guess that's why Benjy's excited, although he's told me he's already been to Australia twice. Once with his family when he was young, and once when he went traveling before going to college.
From the many stories he's told me, he's been to just about every country in the world you'd want to visit. So I guess that's why flying doesn't seem to concern him anymore.
For me it's not quite the same, and another burst of turbulence confirms that. The negotiations stop momentarily, and I watch as Flint Young settles calmly into his seat, buckles up, and casually sips on a bottle of water as he gazes out the window.
Before you meet a billionaire, you build an idea of what one might be like in your head. Flint isn't it.
For a start, he's not old, like I'd expect him to me. In fact, he's only 30, and pretty darn handsome too. He's got this Southern swagger about him, this sleek accent that makes just about everything he
says sound charming. Along with it comes his wavy dark hair, his bright blue eyes, and skin that's constantly dipped in a nice covering of bronze.
He looks more like a movie star than a billionaire, and from what I've read in the papers, it certainly sounds like he lives a movie star life as well.
Flash parties. Movie premiers. Always a gorgeous model on his arm. He's like Leo DiCaprio, only richer, better looking, and marginally less recognizable.
The turbulence dies down again, and they all get back to work, leaving me and Benjy to continue our discussion about what we'll do in Sydney once it's all done.
“Lib, it's awesome. We're gonna have such fun. You never know, there might be a closing party when the deal's done. Mr Young has this mansion out there, or so I've heard, that's like the Playboy Mansion of Australia. Maybe he'll throw a party there.”
“Yeah, Benjy, keep dreaming. We're just aids, he probably won't even notice we're here.”
“Well, whatever, there's still a great nightlife in Sydney. I went to the Red Light District last time and had a whale of a time...”
“I'd rather not hear about your sordid life thanks.”
He grins and goes on to tell me, against my will, about a particularly interesting experience he had in a sex shop.
Meanwhile my mind begins to wander and I start checking the interactive display on the chair in front of me to see where we are.
Somewhere over Fiji in the South Pacific...shouldn't be too much longer now.
With Benjy finally shutting up, I try to get a bit more sleep, my mind slowly drifting off into dreams of wild parties and sex shops.
My mind darkens, and I slowly drift into some horrible nightmare where it's pitch black and freezing cold and the world around me is raging in a massive storm. I'm in the middle of a twister, unable to escape, unable to do anything but hope...
And my eyes open.
And I see flashing lights and the sudden feeling that my body is being thrown to one side. In my haze I still think I'm in a nightmare, unable to catch up with what's going on. Then I see Benjy, trying to connect his belt buckle, his face filled with fear as the plane roars and is shaken so violently it feels like it's going to tear apart.
Another heavy jolt hits, and I watch in terror as Benjy's body is launched to the side, clattering against the window. His body falls limp, and sags into his chair, and I see the thick trail of blood, dark against the glass.
I call out to him, but my voice is consumed by the ragging sounds around me. The clamor of the engine, the howling of the fierce wind, the shrieks and cries and screams of the men and woman on board the flight.
The plane lurches once more, and again my body is flung to the side. I'm thrown across the aisle, to the seat where Benjy lies slumped, and my head knocks hard into the arm rest.
My head spins, my vision blurring. And I look one more time at my friend, his eyes open and staring, blood dripping down his cheek, and know I'm going to die.
And then it all goes black.
Chapter One
I wake to the sound of gentle, lapping water. The sound of clicking insects, and chirping birds.
A warmth engulfs me, the air humid and stifling and sticky. But I'm in the shade, undercover from the sun, lying down on something soft and malleable beneath me.
Sand.
I feel the grain between my fingers, soft and warm, and struggle to open my eyes. They crack open, and bright shards of light cut in at me from beyond the shade, the sun outside as bright as I've ever seen in.
Slowly, surely, the world comes into view, and I see the ocean ahead, the gentle waves riding against the shore in their endless motion.
My head hurts, a dull ache inside it, and I rack my brain for where I am, for what happened. I lift my hand, and feel a bandage wrapped around my forehead. It's sticky on one side, and when I drop my fingers I see blood.
Panic rushes through me, and I sit up and dart my eyes around, my head still spinning, my eyesight slightly blurred and foggy.
“Hello?”
My voice crackles as I try to speak, broken by thirst and fear and lack of use. My lips feel sore and dry, my tongue swollen as I creep out from under the canopy of leaves and look around.
I see a beach, long and wild and untouched by the hand of man. It stretches far into the distance to my left and right, with high hills, covered in foliage, climbing behind.
“Hello!” I call again, my voice trying to work. But it only comes out as a strangled moan.
Where am I! What happened!
I send my eyes around once more and see something bobbing in the sea against the shore, caught in a grouping of rocks a little out into the surf. I pace forward, my legs shaky, and see what looks like a window pane surrounded by metal...
And then it hits me.
The plane...the crash.
I see it again. Benjy's head cracking against the window, blood dripping down the glass and oozing out of the side of his bashed-in head. I see his eyes, empty, vacant, lifeless, staring at nothing.
I feel the rush of the wind, the shrieks and cries of the passengers, the rumble of the engines as they struggle to keep us airborne.
And then, the last thing I remember, banging my head against the arm rest. And the world going blank.
I lift my hand to my head again, feel the bandage where I hit my head, sticky and warm with blood.
“Hello!” I call again, my voice growing through sheer fear.
Did everyone die in the crash? How did I get here? And where the hell am I?!
Panic continues to consume me as I stagger down the beach, calling out for someone, anyone, to help me. I look out over the sea, the blue expanse stretching for miles into the distance, no sign of life anywhere.
I turn, looking beyond the beach at the jungles on the hillside, caught between the sea and the thick verdant tangle of trees and jagged rocks.
It's overwhelming, my head beginning to pulse harder as I turn and twist in the sand. I grow dizzy, the world spinning, everything colliding inside me and overtaking my conscious mind.
The outsides of my eyesight turns to a blur, a black cloud storming in from all sides, devouring my sight, turning a switch in my head. I feel my body go weak, my legs beginning to crumple, and I collapse into the soft, warm sand.
And as my sight fades again, and the world turns to a blur, I only see the shape of a shadow running up the beach toward me, fading as my eyes go dark.
…
“Libby, Libby, can you hear me.”
I feel something cool against my head, a rag, drenched with water. It presses against my forehead, the cold liquid dripping down over the blood stained bandage.
“Libby...Libby...”
My eyes flicker again, my lips chafed, and I feel water being poured into my mouth, small drips at a time, wetting my lips and tongue and the back of my parched throat.
I'm back in the shade, under a canopy of large palm leaves, the sun still bright beyond and the air still hot and humid.
“Libby...”
I hear the voice in my head, but don't recognize it. It must be someone from the plane. Someone must have survived.
I turn my eyes to the source of the voice, and strain as my vision clears again. Blue eyes come into focus first, staring, intense. The skin around them is tanned, dark hair framing the top of his face, a jaw peppered with dusty stubble.
And then I recognize him, and the voice - that Southern drawl - links together with the vision of the billionaire I've seen so many times on the news, but never even got to meet on the plane.
Flint Young stares down at me, a desperation in his face as he dabs my head with the rag and continues to drop cool water into my mouth.
“Can you hear me Libby?”
His voice grows even clearer, more forceful as he sees my eyes opening. I nod, weakly, and the croak of my voice comes out.
“What's...what's going on.”
“You've been in an accident. Our plane went down.”
He speaks with clarity, and suddenly his voice catches.
“We're the only two survivors, Libby. Do you understand?”
I nod again, still unable to take it all in.
Is this real? Am I still in a strange dream...a strange nightmare?
Flint helps to prop me up against the back of a tree, and my head pounds harder. I grimace, and he douses me in cool water again from a plastic water bottle that he must have salvaged.
“You have a gash on the side of your head. It's not serious. The pain will pass.”
His voice has returned to its calm state. There's no panic in it at all.
“But where are we??”
“Somewhere in the South Pacific. I can't be sure of the location. But we'll be found, don't worry, Libby.”
His voice is reassuring, helps to settle my heart just a little bit.
“How long was I out?”
“More than a day. I brought you here, bandaged your head with the first aid kit that washed ashore. It's not much more than a scratch. Nothing permanent.”
He holds his palm to my forehead like a caring mother testing your temperature, and smiles at me.
“You have a slight fever. You need to rest.”
I swallow hard, my throat still bone dry, and shake my head.
“I can't rest...not until we're saved. How do you know we'll be rescued?”
His eyes flash, and I see a tiny bit of doubt in them.
“Because they'll know where the plane went down, and will be scouring the area for us now. It's only a matter of time. Now, you really have to rest. I'm going to gather some more water from the jungle.”
He gently lays me down again, and forms a cushion out of folded palm leaves. He places it under my head, and asks me once more if I'm OK.
I nod, but can't help a tear of fear and anguish at the loss of Benjy and so many good people from falling down my cheek. He wipes it away with his thumb, before kissing my cheek with the lightest of affection.
“I'll be back soon, I promise. Now sleep. You'll feel much better tomorrow.”
He leaves, and I lie there trying to catch everything up in my head. Trying to believe that it's all real. That I'm stuck here on a desert island in the South Pacific with a man I don't know, not knowing if or when we'll be rescued.