She shook her head sadly.
“Never happened. And after a time I started to wonder if there was something wrong with me, you know? Something that I couldn’t see, but everyone else could.”
“Of course that’s not right,” I said.
“Eventually I asked at the adoption place if there was any family that was even thinking about me. I was around fourteen at the time. The woman there just looked at me with this sad expression and told me that there was a chance it might never happen. When families are picking out kids to adopt, she said, the younger, the better.”
“So…it never happened?”
“Never happened.”
Isla took one more sip, rolled her shoulders, and sat up straight. I wondered if I’d slipped up and put her in a bad mood when she should’ve been relaxing and trying to enjoy the flight. But before I could dwell too long on the matter, a smile appeared on her face.
“But it’s fine,” she said with a genuinely cheerful tone. “I was lucky that every foster family was really great to me. And because I didn’t really have any sort of consistent social life to worry about, I was able to really focus on school and kick serious butt in my classes.”
“That’s great,” I said.
She nodded.
“And it’s not like I never had the chance to know my parents. They were wonderful to me and gave me a great childhood. They taught me to always be patient, always be kind, and to always look on the bright side of things.”
“That’s a great way to look at life,” I said, meaning it. “They taught you well.”
Another warm, sunny smile. I stirred where I sat, wondering if I was beginning to become a touch addicted to it.
“Right,” she said. “No sense in getting upset about things that are out of your control, right? Just keep thinking positively, keep moving forward.”
She took another sip of her drink and I did too, the two of us draining our glasses at the same time. And before either of us could say anything else, I yawned and Isla followed right along with me.
“Wow,” she said. “How’d I get so sleepy?”
“Altitude and the magic of booze,” I said, chuckling. “I have a little work to do before I turn in, but do you want me to show you to your room?”
She considered the idea for a brief moment.
“You know what?” she asked, kicking off her shoes. “I think I’m nice and comfy right here—if it’s all the same to you.”
“Works for me,” I said.
With that, she rested her head back on the couch. I sat for a time, thinking over what she’d told me. It was a hard life she’d had, and her attitude toward it was just as positive as I’d expect from the enthusiastic woman I’d met in the elevator.
A thought came to me unbidden.
She’s something special.
It only took a few minutes before Isla’s chest began to rise and fall in the steady breathing of sleep. I dimmed the lights in the cabin before taking out my laptop, sitting down at one of the tables, and opening it up.
But before I turned my eyes to the screen, I took one more glance at Isla.
She was something special indeed.
Chapter 6
Isla
I woke up the next morning feeling like a new woman—refreshed and energetic and ready for anything.
As I opened my eyes, I realized that I was still on the couch, curled up. But there was a blanket on top of me, one that I didn’t remember wrapping myself in last night. I woke up further, hearing the rumble of the plane engine accompanied by the tap-tap-tap of fingers on a keyboard.
I sat up and looked around as I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. The cabin of the plane was still so much to take in. Adam was right in that it was going to be hard to go back to coach after this.
“Good morning,” he said.
I turned my attention in the direction of his low, rich voice. He was seated at one of the tables with a laptop in front of him, the steam from his coffee rising and curling around his strong, cleft chin.
He offered me a warm, confident smile as he slightly lowered the screen of his laptop.
“Sleep well?”
“I slept…incredibly,” I said. “Maybe the best sleep I’ve had in months. You sure were right about the little bit of whiskey helping with sleep.”
“I think it’s that,” he said. “And the airplane engines. Perfect amount of white noise if you ask me.”
I said nothing for a moment, listening to the engines. He was right—something about the light roar had a way of clearing out my head and allowing me to focus on nothing but relaxing.
“Anyway,” he said, “there’s fresh coffee if you’re in the mood.”
“Coffee sounds great,” I said. “Really, though, I’m thinking about that shower I’m going to take when we get to the hotel.”
Another warm smile, this one more knowing.
“Why wait?” he asked. “There’s a shower and full tub in the master bedroom.”
My eyes went wide.
“You’re not serious are you?”
“I wouldn’t joke about a full bath. Go on in and take a look. I went ahead and put your bag in the bedroom, and there are fresh towels in the bathroom.”
I didn’t need to hear another word. I got up and headed into the surprisingly spacious master bedroom—still having a hard time with the idea of a plane having a bedroom—and opened the small door that led to, sure enough, a very lovely little bathroom.
I quickly stripped down and turned on the shower, steaming hot water pouring out instantly. When I stepped under the shower and felt that first blast of hot water, it took all the restraint I had not to let out a long “ahhh” that even the pilot would hear.
I took my time in there, getting nice and clean and letting the hot water work its magic on my muscles. When I was done I wrapped myself in one of the ridiculously fluffy towels and spent a little time readying myself for the day.
“How was it?” asked Adam as I stepped back into the cabin, dressed and totally refreshed.
“You know, they like to talk about the mile-high club. But I think the real exclusive club with flying is people who’ve taken a shower up in the air and people who haven’t.”
Adam let out a warm laugh, and my face went a touch red as I realized I’d just made a sex joke to my boss. But if he considered it some kind of breach of etiquette, he didn’t say anything.
“Another one of those things it’s hard to come back from,” he said. “Really, I should be apologizing for spoiling normal flying for you.”
“Hmm,” I said. “I can think of a way you can make it up to me.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“Unlimited access to the company plane, of course.”
I gave him a wink to let him know I wasn’t being serious, as if it weren’t totally obvious.
“Well,” he said. “If that’s what you’re looking for, then keep it—maybe you’ll have it someday.”
I froze in place for a moment at his words. Was that really nothing more than a joke?
Cool it, Isla, I thought. He’s just teasing you back. But then again…what if he really did see that in me? That maybe someday I’ll be high enough in the company for something like that?
I tossed the thought out of my head.
“Something to eat?” he asked. “We’ve only got another hour or so to go before we land.”
“No,” I said. “Don’t bother on my account.”
In response he closed his computer and stood up. He was dressed in a pair of light gray slacks, shiny black loafers, and a crisp, white button-down shirt with a couple of the top buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up his toned forearms. A gorgeous silver watch, the cost of which I could only guess, completed the picture. Everything about his look was effortless style.
“I insist,” he said. “We’ve got a full day ahead of us so you’re going to need to have energy. Besides, cooking is a hobby of mine, a
nd I rarely get to do it for anyone but myself.”
He made his way over to the small kitchenette, and I realized there wasn’t going to be any talking him out of it.
Fine, I thought. A handsome man wants to make me breakfast; who am I to tell him no?
He went to work, and I poured myself a tall mug of coffee and got comfortable on a nearby couch. I couldn’t tell what he was making, but it involved eggs and fruit. Before too long the cabin was full of the scent of cooking eggs and fresh fruit and rich coffee—the perfect aroma to start your day to.
“So,” I said. “Big day. What’s on the agenda?”
“We’re going to get right to it,” he said, glancing over his shoulder as he worked. “The factory is near the city, and the hotel’s not too far from it. We’re going to swing by the hotel, have our bags taken in, and get right to checking out the situation at the plant.”
“Not wasting any time, huh?”
“Nope,” he said. “When there’s a task ahead of me, I never see any sense in not getting right to it. Why? You thinking you’ll need a couple of hours at the hotel to recharge?”
I didn’t, and even if I did the last thing I wanted to do was to look like a slacker in front of my boss.
“Nope,” I said with a smile. “Ready to go.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” he said, returning my smile with one of his own.
With that, he went back to preparing the food while I sat curled up with my coffee, going through some research about the plant and the culture in Brazil on my phone. Before too long Adam approached with a single plate and placed it in on the coffee table in front of me.
“Oh,” I said. “What do we have here?”
“French omelet,” he said, gesturing to the perfectly cooked eggs. “And some fresh fruit.”
It looked and smelled amazing, and my mouth watered at just the sight of it.
“What’s the difference between a French omelet and an American one?”
“Give it a try,” he said. “It’s Frenchier.”
I chuckled at his corny joke before taking the fork and knife and cutting into it. The omelet was soft and as easy to cut through as warm butter. I brought the piece up to my mouth and wrapped my lips around the fork.
It. Was. Amazing.
The eggs were creamy and soft and delicious, seasoned to perfection. And the sliced kiwi and pears and strawberries were the perfect complement.
“Hit the spot?” he asked.
“So freaking good,” I said.
My face felt hot again as I realized I was once again being a touch too familiar with my boss. But he simply smiled.
“Glad you like,” he said.
Then he refilled my coffee and went back to his desk.
“Now, I’m going to finish up letting the big man know what we have planned. Get comfortable and relax while you can. We have a lot of work ahead of us.”
The big man. I knew that had to be none other than Edward Corliss, founder of the company. I stopped eating as I watched Adam type, knowing that he was currently talking to one of the most powerful businessmen in California about…me!
Sure, I wasn’t the sole topic of the email, but surely Adam would mention the employee he had chosen to accompany him on the work trip. And that meant my name would be in the brain of Mr. Corliss himself.
Over the course of the last day, I’d gone from a low-level admin assistant to…well, whatever I was at that moment. My belly tingled with excitement at the idea that this trip could very well be my big break in the company.
Easy, Isla, I thought as I returned to my meal. Focus on the task at hand and not the corner office that might be in your future.
I finished my meal and cleaned up as Adam worked, going back to my research as the trip finished. And it was hard not to glance up at him out of the corner of my eye, taking in his good looks. I loved the expression on his face as he focused, his dark, thick eyebrows knitted and his eyes sharp as he typed—beyond sexy.
Isla! my thoughts hissed. He’s sexy, sure. Really, really sexy. But he’s also your boss. So just try to ignore how freaking good-looking he is for the next few days, okay?
I did my best to focus on my phone, but it was hard. Thankfully, the plane’s descent gave me something else to pay attention to.
“Check this out,” Adam said as he closed his computer and nodded toward the window.
I slipped my phone into my pocket and stepped over to him, bending down just a bit to catch the view—and a whiff of his smoky, intoxicating cologne.
The view was insane. The city of Rio de Janeiro was endless, stretching into the far horizon. And as the plane turned I saw the glittering sea. We went down, down, and before too long I was able to spot the sandy strip of the beach, and then even the small dots of the many, many people on it.
“Wow…” I said, my voice trailing off. “This place makes San Francisco look like a freaking farm town.”
“About twelve million people in the metro area,” he said. “Like New York, but with better weather.”
I had no frame of reference for that comparison. But I was pretty certain that Adam had likely been there more than a few times for work or whatever else. Jet-setting was part of the lifestyle for a man like him, and I found myself wondering how many places in the world he’d seen in his thirty or so years.
The seat-belt sign dinged on, and I took the seat next to Adam and buckled up, settling in for the landing.
About fifteen minutes later we were on the runway and parked. Another nice thing about the private plane—no pulling up to a terminal, no stampede of people trying to get off. We simply stopped, the pilot opening the door and letting us out once the staircase had arrived.
I had to hold my hand up to my face as we left, the sun bright as heck. And then I noticed the warm air on my skin, and then the green, leafy trees just beyond the landing strips.
“Welcome to Rio,” said Adam with a smile.
I could tell already that this was going to be my strangest, most interesting Christmas ever.
Chapter 7
Isla
Sure, San Francisco was a big city packed with people and buildings that reached up to the clouds, but Rio was different. There was an energy I could feel simply sitting in the back of our private car and taking in the sights.
“Tropical Christmas,” I said, my eyes on a fruit vendor on a nearby corner. “This is a first for me.”
“Glad to be here for it,” he said. “Then again, it’s not like we get too many white Christmases back home.”
“True,” I said. “But this is Christmas in the summer, right?”
“That’s right,” he said. “You go over the equator and everything gets flipped around. Even the water goes the other way down the sink.”
It was still sinking in that I was on the bottom half of the globe. But it was thrilling—I traveled so rarely that I made sure to savor every moment, every sight.
“So,” I said. “The hotel?”
“The hotel,” he said. “We’re not going to be getting out, though. Our driver will check in and bring the bags to our room, and then we’re off to the factory.”
Then a small smile formed on his lips.
“And I don’t want to get your hopes up,” he said. “But if we don’t have to spend the entire day there, we might have a chance to check out some of the city later in the evening.”
I couldn’t help it—my eyes went wide with excitement.
“Really?” I asked, realizing I sounded like a kid whose parents had told her that they could stop at the ice cream place on the way home.
He raised a finger.
“Depends,” he said. “We might be at the factory all day and only have time to grab a quick bite. But we’ll see how the day goes.”
He was right, of course. We were there to work; anything else would be a bonus. But once he’d put the idea in my head of the two of us going out on the town, I couldn’t shake it. All I could do was turn my attention back to t
he passing scenery and try to keep my excitement measured.
After twenty minutes or so of driving, we arrived at a gorgeous, colonial-style building, cream-colored with imposing columns in front of a grand set of double doors.
“One of the oldest hotels in the city,” he said. “And luxury accommodations on the top floor, naturally.”
Now I really had to fight to keep my excitement at bay. Just like with flying, I’d only stayed in hotels a few times before—and it was always in whatever room was the cheapest. My mind raced with ideas of what the rooms we’d be staying in might look like.
We parked, the driver hopping out and grabbing our bags from the trunk and passing them to the bellhop. Together they headed in, the driver returning a few moments later and climbing back into the car. Adam then rolled down the partition.
“All good?” he asked.
“All good, Mr. Forde,” said the driver. “And we’re very close to the factory. Should be a drive of about fifteen or so minutes.”
“Perfect.”
The partition went back up and we were off. As we drove the city took on a less dense look, more and more green of the surrounding rainforests appearing among the houses.
And eventually, it became poorer. The lovely houses and large apartment complexes were replaced by houses of colored corrugated steel among block-like tenements that looked like they’d seen better days. I could tell that we were getting into the less privileged parts of the city.
Just like the driver had said, it wasn’t long before we arrived at the factory. It was a huge complex surrounded by a tall, chain-link fence. Truth be told, if I hadn’t known what it was as we approached, I might’ve guessed it was some kind of prison.
We approached the entrance to the grounds, the car stopping at a security checkpoint. A pair of serious-faced armed guards were there, and they quickly approached, speaking to the driver. I heard muffled Portuguese through the window, followed by the guards coming to the back windows and one of them giving the glass a harsh rap with his knuckles. Adam rolled down the window.
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