Page 3 of Passion

My face wasn’t as recognizable as hers was. I wasn’t on any billboards or posters, and the magazines where my image had been shared weren’t the sort a supermodel would peruse. She hadn’t asked my name either, and I liked it that way. Oftentimes, when people heard the name Lucas Allen Smith, they associated me with the dollar signs that followed my name and the influence I had in the government tech sector. The longer I could keep her from knowing all that, the more likely it would be that I had a shot to know the real her.

When I passed by her on the way to my seat, she was engaged in conversation with her seatmate. I felt bad for that because I knew how it was. When people found out who I was, they’d want to talk my ear off. She’d let the cat out of the bag, and by now, everyone in three rows on either side of her knew who she was. To make matters worse, all 127 people on this flight were headed to the same destination—Elbow Cay—and that meant they’d all follow her around the entire week.

I slumped into my seat, prepared to make her trip as private and relaxing as possible, even if I had to give her my suite to make it happen. Vera Davids intrigued me, and that didn’t happen often—I was too picky for that. This trip may very well change both of our lives.

3

VERA

The bellhop was kind, delivering my bags to my condo. The tiny resort was comprised of squat buildings surrounded by palm trees of all sizes and palmetto plants arranged in flower beds lined with paved walks that took you anywhere you needed to go. I loved the feel of the remote island, no need for cars or motorized transportation. Daven would have loved this too—or maybe he’d been here before and that’s why he thought to bring me.

I slumped onto the foot of the bed, phone in hand. The weather app called for sunny skies and 96º today, but cloudy and cooler the rest of the week. If I wanted to get sun, today was the only day it would happen, thanks to Hurricane Bryan set to sweep the western coast of Florida. I groaned. Being alone on a tropical paradise island wouldn’t have been so awful if not for the impending cloudy skies.

I tossed my phone to the bed and unzipped the suitcase lying at my feet. A week’s worth of clothing, condoms, and sex toys stared back at me as I rifled through it, searching for my bikini. When I had looked up photos of the resort, I was immediately drawn toward images of their pool and spa area. I had to have been a mermaid in another life because the water always beckoned me. I had also planned to enjoy the amenities with my boyfriend who was now probably fucking my former best friend and enjoying it.

I found what I was looking for, grabbing my bikini and extracting it from the suitcase. I didn’t even bother heading to the bathroom to change. The tiny bungalow-style condos were secluded, divided from the others by hordes of palms and palmettos. Anyone who wanted to sneak a peek at me could easily do so through the large picture windows facing the front walk, but I kept my back turned.

The plane ride had been a nightmare. That guy from the bar had asked me my name, and instead of giving him an alias as I was prone to do on any normal flight, I had given him my real name, which turned into the entire flight being a conversation with people around me about my job. Being well known had its perks, but the drawbacks were torture sometimes. I came here wanting privacy, and if even so much as one person approached me and annoyed me, I would be seeing the resort’s security team about it.

The resort left a brown wicker basket with striped beach towels nestled next to the door, so I snatched one out before grabbing my floppy hat and sunglasses. I paused for a moment to decide whether I should bring my phone, almost leaving it behind, but I opted to take it. If someone annoying tried to talk to me, I could at least fake a phone call and leave.

But before I was even down the steps to the walk, I regretted my decision to take my phone. It rang, my mother’s image displayed on the caller ID. If I ignored her, she’d go into full panic mode due to the hurricane approaching. She had no idea I was on a tropical island—I never told her where I was or she’d randomly appear like Spock on that Sci-Fi show with his tractor beams.

“What, Mom?” My annoyed tone should have told her everything she needed to know, but she never paid attention. She was like a bad cold you couldn’t get rid of, lingering in my life far longer than most parents should have. I left home six years ago at the age of eighteen, and she still treated me like a child sometimes.

“Oh, Vera, dear. The weather is looking awful. You can still catch a flight home. Listen, Aunt Gertrude is visiting and she would love to see you. How about I buy you a ticket and you come home before the storm hits?”

Mom was like that, always trying to get me to come home. I gave a hard eye roll I knew she’d never see, but I bit back my snarky remark. I didn’t want this to turn into a lecture. I was certain she was just worried. I’d lived through hurricanes every single year, and this one was not only a very weak hurricane, but it wasn’t even close to me. I would be fine.

“No, Mom. I’m fine. I’m just going to ride it out,”In the sun, on a paradise getaway…

“But Aunt Gertrude?—”

“Is your aunt, Mom. Not mine.”

“She’s your great-aunt.”

“She’s a bajillion years old and calls me Vanessa.” My mother’s maternal aunt was a very sweet lady. When I was a child, she’d come visit and give us candies she'd collected from all her trips around the world. A very wealthy woman, but prone to forgetfulness. Probably dementia or something.

“Now, Vera Laine, you know that’s not polite.” Mom clicked her tongue at me. “I thought I taught you better.”

I could see the beach just down the path that wrapped around the northern side of my condo—the honeymoon suite. I could also see the path leading me straight to the pool area where I wanted to be. It was quiet, not a single hint of children’s voices or loud music, only the sound of waves crashing and gulls calling.

“Sorry. I just have a lot going on. I can’t come home, and I’m going to be fine.” I tapped my bare toes on the paved walk, thankful the sun had been prohibited from kissing this section of the ground. My flip flops were still in my suitcase, ignored because who needs shoes in paradise?

“Well, if things get bad down there, I’m going to buy you a ticket and you’re coming. No arguments. Got it?”

I shook my head, frustrated. If I ignored her direct commands, she’d just stop talking to me, which wouldn’t be horrible, except that every woman needs her mother at times. The occasional stipend of cash she’d throw my way didn’t hurt, either. She wasn’t extremely wealthy, but the alimony she got from my father was a source of comfort for us both.

“No arguments. I have to go, Mom. I’ll call you later.”

Before she could protest, I swiped right and ended the call, heading toward my glorious destination—a lounge chair in the sun. I hadn’t even bothered to do anything with my hair. It was still tied on top of my head with a rubber band and a dozen hair pins. At least I’d taken the time to wash my face and do my makeup after vomiting. All I wanted to do was drink too much, get baked by the sun, and forget the name Daven Michaels.

I was right, there were only a few folks seated around the pool area, more than enough empty chairs for me to select one. I found a lounge in direct sunlight and spread my towel out. For a moment, I considered jumping in the water to give the sun more moisture to work with—I firmly believed water on the skin enhanced the effects of UV light—but I was exhausted. Day drinking had already taken its toll on me.

So, I sat down, stretching my legs out and flipping through my phone. I heard voices approaching from the left and looked up to see who was approaching. To my pleasant surprise, it was the handsome man who had offered to buy me a drink at the airport and then later stopped by my seat on the plane. The island wasn’t that large, and there were only a few resorts here, but I was still shocked to see that we were staying at the same place. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to grin or hide.

The latter won out.

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