Hunted by Billionaires Box Set

by Ryan Ramsay

  “Fuck!”

  She aims for my sides, punching me with an open fist. The first one is gentle. The second and third jabs feel like needles stuck in all the wrong places. Instinct rushes over, and I claw her arms out. She screams.

  I scratch deeper behind her triceps. She pushes me back and roundhouse—fucking roundhouse—kicks me in the sternum. I leap back and hit the back of a pillow with my ass, winded. I catch my breath. She heaves before me, hovering like a fucking predator.

  “Talk!” she orders.

  “Ever…ever since I left, I’ve been a train wreck. I haven’t been as successful at being a woman, or even human, as I would wish. I am a chronic masturbator… at least twice per day when the urges are too strong. I… I seclude myself from people because it keeps me safe. When I go out, I feel as though the world is watching me, always… always judging, always asking, and commanding me to improve. I worked out once, but it was because I wanted to get my revenge body on you. I wanted so bad to prove that I was not just the brains of the outfit. But every…every fucking step of the way you keep proving that I am nothing. That I have nothing. Do you…know what I see whenever I see women like you on campus or at the library or at the fucking movie theater? Do you?”

  “Tell me,” she says softly, her face wet. Just as mine is.

  “I see you sis. I fucking see you. I see us competing against each other because mum and dad said so. I see the years of angst and anger, oh God the anger that I had for you. I felt it so strongly that I even got a roommate that looks exactly like you, just to feel sorry for myself.”

  She is closer, the bridge between us loosening up.

  Her hand is on my shoulder, her head tilted to the side.

  “I fucking hated you so much Mia. I just… it helped to take care of someone who was just as messed up as I was, someone I could say I was better than. And all the times I went to the gym, worked my body almost to death, I came back to my room to find a version of you that drinks, whores, eats whatever she wants and lazes around because she can get the professors in her pants and fish an A out of her pussy. I was nothing still. I am… I am nothing still.”

  Her shoulders provide support for my tired and warm face, her arms wrapped around me in sisterly embrace.

  “I hated you so much. So much.”

  “I missed you, big sister,” she whispers in tears.

  “I missed you too you, fucking dunce.”

  We hold still on the carpet for a long while, crying it out in silence. I let go first, but not all the way.

  “Is the surprise really the game?” I ask, all quiet and calm now. Her face moves slightly to accommodate the wet pillow.

  “You know all this—coming to Italy, staying at a five star hotel, eating all this amazing food—it’s all for you. I made a villa free of any human contact in two weeks, just for you. I wanted, and still do, to see you happy.”

  “But is this the way?”

  “It is, in my perspective. I don’t know if you and I will ever find the place to forgive one another for the sins of the past, but we can start. This is my way of bringing you into my life, you see? It’s the only way you can see the beautiful part of it. When I called you that day, weeks ago, I wanted to hear your voice. I wanted to share with you my joy. But you were bitter, and if I’m honest, so was I. I thought we could just recap and get on with our lives. Boy was I wrong.”

  She sniffs and goes on.

  “I have been watching you, sis. I will not deny it. I have watched you ever since I could. I watched from afar, making sure not to interfere until the time was right.”

  “It felt right two weeks ago?”

  “No,” she replies with open honesty. “It felt right the moment I found love, half a year ago.”

  “You’ve been married six months? Jesus. Does mum know?”

  “We don’t talk anymore. Ever since she kinda figured out what I do for a living she shunned me.”

  “Life insurance?”

  “You know how she gets with salespeople. She always hated that job genre.”

  I giggle. She laughs.

  “Is it worth it? This job, the things you do for the rich. Is it worth it?” I ask. She sighs openly.

  “At first I thought it wasn’t. I was in it for the money. I just wanted to make something of myself in the world, and working there was the opportunity of a lifetime. It really is. Oh God Ash, the people I’ve met, the things I’ve seen. I always wished I could tell it to you, if not show you.” She pauses. “At least now you know. Now I feel we have a foothold on something.”

  The light from the filtering moon hits her ring and easily makes it glow.

  “Tell me about my brothers-in-law.”

  Her eyes well up.

  “What? Did I say something wrong?”

  “No. I haven’t heard that word used before. It’s just… thank you.”

  **

  “Three husbands, huh?”

  “Yup.”

  “And they all just actually love you. Unconditionally.”

  “They do own part of the world in their wealth. I am pretty sure they don’t love for anything else.”

  “I know for a fact they love one other really exclusive thing sis,” I laughingly say. She chortles hard and winces. “Sorry. I dug a little too deep with my nails, huh?”

  “It was a long time coming,” she breathlessly says. The bathroom light is perfect for the stitch job I’m doing on her arms.

  “Three guys, huh?”

  “Oh, you will love them! I noticed you still kept that novel you stole from the library. Ow!”

  “That was private stuff sis. Don’t push it.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m just saying your needs are sorted out. They were the best candidates that matched with your personality.”

  She notices my fingers slipping. Her free hand moves to calm them.

  “Hey. You’ll do great. And besides, after the game you will be worth a lot of money.”

  “Money? I thought all I get are three suitors.”

  “Oh no. They pay for the service. You get half.”

  “Half?”

  “Half.”

  “And all I have to do is play along until one of them finds the hidden item?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I don’t think I’m going into this for the sex sis. Three guys are a lot to take in, literally and figuratively.”

  She laughs, her hand still on my arm.

  “Just have fun, alright? Anything can happen when everyone’s having a good time.”

  Chapter 15

  Arnold

  Silence blesses the journey more than it mars it. The decent is slow in the calm tide. The fisherman purposefully whistles to a tune only known to him. His steel and hairy arms, covered partly up to his elbow, are covered in light and striped cotton. He stands above us, his face scrunched up to the sea.

  He offers no stories, no guidance. His face reveals a lot of untold happenings. I sit here wishing to ask the tiny robin eyes questions upon questions; about the ocean and its tides, about the sun and when it turned red, about his life, how long he has done this for, about the dragon tattoo across the right side of his neck, about his reason for not wearing shoes, and ultimately, the smell of raw fish from under the grey boat’s hidden compartments.

  I open my lips, seemingly so to breathe. His eyes do not move from the water, his arms carefully and timely rowing onwards. I shut them completely. I will not receive answers today.

  The sun is bright, and upon my shoulders it burns. Sunscreen helps, but the length of anticipation burns hotter. I move my neck slightly to my left, acknowledging Shem and Peter.

  The latter is cross-legged, the dark green shorts he wears tightly grabbing. I think he’s meditating. I think. The former has his hand in the water, his forearms lazily clunking against the hull of the fisherman’s boat. On his mind are loads of questions I am sure, more so than the explanation we received this morning.

  We were in our collective room. I remembe
r staring at the ceiling, tracing with my fingers the lines and crevices. It was a few minutes to sunup. I could not tell whether my friends were awake too. My back felt too comfortable. Then the noise startled me, but not too much.

  “Good morning gentlemen.”

  I rose from my comfort zone and sat up straight. The television screen was on, a familiar face upon it. The instant I saw her eyes I remembered how quickly I had disrobed the night before just after my shower. I quickly covered up. She did not bat an eye.

  “Understandably I have chosen for this video feed to be one way. You can see me but I cannot see you. However, we can hear each other just fine.”

  I sighed in relief.

  “Good morning Mia,” said Shem. “Looking lovely for such an early start.”

  “It’s a long day, especially for you. Is everyone else awake?”

  I stretched my neck out and nodded to him. He craned and stepped away from his bed’s corner and leaned one-handed on the wall-unit. I suppose the smile meant he had seen our other comrade.

  “Yeah. We’re up,” I said.

  “Good to hear, Arnold.” She paused. “Now, in light of the day’s activities, I would like you to heed these instructions very carefully…”

  Step 1: Dress up in the most convenient clothing, preferably shorts and silk shirts.

  Step 2: Ensure all electronics are left in the room, including watches, rings and any metal surface that can be disposed of.

  Step 3: Eat light.

  Step 4: Head out to the fjord and hire any boat that looks like a blast from a midwife’s tale. The older the better.

  Step 5: Carry enough sunscreen and pay the fisherman or driver with it.

  Step 6: Give him this location that you will write down and give to him; only he will understand.

  Step 7: Have fun and see you soon.

  The seven steps to an awkward morning, said Shem. And I found myself agreeing with him.

  It was stranger still when we left the hotel room, shades on and no bags with us. We were strangers to a strange land, partially. Peter had been to Italy before, but on a different island. We were on our own.

  The smell of fish and fresh bread pervaded the air. I loved inhaling it all as we walked through the narrow streets and vendor-filled alleys. We got approached more than the one time with golden trinkets by women in white apparel. Peter loved it. Shem kept mum. I know he did not like at all when the shirtless man pinched his nipples together and offered my comrade a taste.

  It was at the fjord where things got interesting. The boats were three. Two were in repair by men sipping beer from wooden mugs. One was available and untethered. We walked in silence towards the man.

  He had all the features of an Iranian feature film. He was strong and burly, his white top complementing the beautifully braided beard. Peter walked up to him, gave him the directions we had scrawled down on paper. The man stifled. So did the other repair men. I am yet to know why.

  And now here we are, inching closer to what a few seconds ago was a narrow strait of land. Upon closer inspection, it seems to be an unchartered island, one flagged with a tree of red bushes and flowers that sprout from the ground and weave their way through the wooden, stone, and reed villa.

  The boat stops with a soft clunk. The man urges us with his stern look not to question his choice.

  “But the island is at least a good swim away,” argues Peter, who has had his fair share of the sun on his reddening nape. Shem agrees.

  “Just a little further, good sir.”

  The man ignores the call, taking his oar out of the water in the process. I take the hint. Standing on one foot and a bended knee, I take my shirt off and tie the sleeves around my waist.

  “What are you on about mate?” argues Shem. I make sure the material is clung tight on my body; I wouldn’t want another misadventure in the sea.

  “The man isn’t going any further. Pay up and swim with me. The day’s already far gone.”

  Peter follows suit right before I jump. The loud splash surrounding my ears bleeds majestic, and for a second I forget what I am here for.

  I move with both arms ahead of me in synchronous thrusts, kicking my way forward. I rise to breathe. The sea balances at my nose. I watch the sky for a minute. A gull flies by noiselessly flapping its wings.

  I keep going, getting closer to land. The bubbles build up inside my mouth and through my flaring nostrils. The taste, oh the taste, of clean and slightly salty water arouses my senses. The ocean whispers in quiet undulating tones, and I try my best to listen.

  Two more splashes make me more comfortable as the feel of sandy gravel and firm ground welcome me. I use my knees and elbows to move forward. The sea recedes. I am here.

  **

  The boys take their sweet time shaking the sand out of their shorts. I watch the sea blanket about us like milk on dipped bread. It is a beautiful sight to endure, having the men behind my line of vision and the rest of nature beyond it.

  My silk shirt is near dry now. I untwist it at the sleeves and put it back on, just in time for my buddies to be dry enough, and of course, clear-headed.

  “He just…took it. No word at all. What the fuck was that man?”

  Shem is clearly disgruntled and aiming at Peter for clarity.

  “I swear it wasn’t this weird the last time I was here. Most people still took money for exchange of service.”

  “It was weird though, I must admit,” I add. “Maybe we’ll get some answers there.”

  My finger I pointed at the monstrous yet elegant standing a few yards away. Palm beaches and fronds cover it beautifully, hiding it from plain eyes. I can count a few good standing rooms across the length of the second floor. Towards the house is a path strewn with firestone and flowers purple and blue. Under this kind of weather the place is nothing short of magical.

  “Did you see that?” asks Peter.

  “What?” I question, trying to follow his gaze.

  “That. Right there. On the balcony.” He strides closer to me and pointedly makes it clear. “I’m sure you see that!”

  Shem kicks a pile of sand my way and looks around.

  “Yeah. I see it. I see them actually.”

  Fuck my failing eyesight. I should have brought the contacts along.

  “Can someone be less of a cunt and tell me what it is they see?”

  Peter sighs.

  “I see two people. One of them is waving at us.”

  **

  “You think this is where the game will be?” asks Peter.

  “Of course it is,” I answer, holding the rails with my one hand.

  “Not like that bro, I mean, will it be in the house or on the island? Outside of it, that is.”

  “I don’t know,” says Shem. “Let’s get to the top and ask, shall we?”

  “Cunt,” seethes Peter.

  “Right back at’cha,” snides Shem.

  I grab the top rope and heave my body over. The two women come into proper view now. One of them I already know as I get up from one knee and pat at my thighs. The boys climb after me and stand straight, catching breath.

  “Mind sharing why you all thought climbing over the banister is a bright idea?” asks Mia.

  I laugh, saying, “It’s all in the romance isn’t it?”

  She is dressed in mild pink, something close to fuchsia. And the lady by her side stands a little close to her height, arms tucked and hands twined together by the front of her waist clothed white. She has minimal make up and a bunch of hair freely flowing behind her. Her eyes glow in the light, if that’s possible. Her beautiful, solid…I know her from somewhere.

  I’ve seen this woman before.

  “Well, either way, I am glad you’ve all made it here. Was the ride here worth it?” asks Mia, her hands by her side, a calm demeanor about her. She seems brighter than on phone or video.

  “Yeah,” says Shem with a hint of accent. “What’s up with the sunscreen? And why didn’t the man bring us to shore?”

>   “Oh,” remarks Mia, her smile halted. “You didn’t know? This section of the sea is known to be haunted.”

  Peter sighs in understanding.

  Shem sighs in confusion.

  I sigh in frustration.

  I know this woman, but where have I seen her before.

  Mia starts. “As you are well aware, you are here for the game of your lives. I am sure you all know who I stand with today. Shall I introduce her or…”

  “It’s alright. I can get there myself,” says the silent lady in white, taking center stage. “I am Ashley. Most people call me Ash, but we don’t go very far in that friendship after that. I—”

  “Aha!” I declare loudly. “I knew I know you! You’re the lady by the swimming pool from last night.”

  Like the itch off the tongue, that bit of info is out in the open. And I don’t even care what everyone says or thinks right now.

  Chapter 16

  Ashley

  Fuck.

  Once, when I was in some kind of class or other, the teacher made it clear that if any assignments would not be done would mean a simple consequence: you would have to eat your lunch at the front of the class during her lesson for the duration of a week. I had peanut butter sandwiches and milk and unified teenage giggles for two weeks after that notice.

  The past always comes to haunt with an open calling card.

  I was drunk. I could swear I was not myself. But the moment the dark-haired one with the beard says it, I feel compelled to apologize. He is one of the men I hit last night in my heated outward display.

  “Holy…you’re right. It is her!” says the other one, rough-edged and skinny at the end of his visible muscles.

  May the earth commence in the swallowing please!

  “Now, now, I am sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for all of this,” urges Mia in my defense. And just when things seem to be in control, the one with the clear red scar on his right arm seals the deal.

  “Ma Baker,” he says in a crisp clear baritone. “We meet once more.