Taking his Risk (Year of the Billionaire Part 2) (9 page)

How did I allow myself to miss the whole point of this scenario? I was the new Elsa, minus the love and commitment. I was the replacement innocent. He was trying to make sure that I knew if I shared her tastes, it was okay! Maybe even what he hoped for.
Fucking hell, Tristan, can't help you out there, buddy. Sorry about your luck but you got a pure, 100% hetero gal on your hands.

"Is there something wrong, Raina?"

Yes, there is something very wrong
. "Maybe I've got a bit of a headache."

"
A bottle of wine in the afternoon can do that. Why don't you take a short rest in one of the staterooms? I need to make my calls and check some things."

"Okay, that's not a bad idea."

"Don't stay too long, though. Just rest your eyes. I want you refreshed . . . for dessert
and
tomorrow." He was bright and cheerful and I wanted to slap him.

I didn't even notice the interior of the boat, I just walked through the living area and down a few steps, opened the door to the first stateroom I came and flopped on the bed. I didn't want to sleep, I wanted to cry.

It
did
occur to me that Tristan still didn't know I was even aware of Elsa. He didn't know that I had seen the wedding announcement on the internet. He wasn't aware of my conversation with Tom about her death. Maybe as far as Tristan was concerned, I didn't know anything about Elsa at all. Hard as it was for me to believe, it was entirely possible that those assumptions were true.

Not everyone spends hours Googling someone they're interested in. Tristan's engagement announcement was buried several pages back, eclipsed in the great search engine's eye by far more important items. And, if I hadn't asked Tom, and I hadn't met Roger and seen the dark cloud he brought to that rehearsal, I wouldn't have known to Google Elsa Maynard at all.

So, at least I had to dismiss the idea that he was
deliberately
torturing me with allusions to their sexual history. Once that was settled, I began to rethink the rest of my assumptions. What if he was simply talking in generalities? What if it was not his personal experience he was referring to? What if he genuinely wanted to discover what turned me on?

But there was the whole nude beach thing. Obviously he had been here before. Okay, so what? If he'd come with Elsa, so what again? The man wasn't a virgin (thank God) and it was patently unfair for me to expec
t him never to have experienced . . . well, anything.

I got out of bed and sort of tiptoed up onto the aft deck. I suspected Tristan was buried somewhere further in the bowels of the boat catching up on work. I needed some air. Hopefully the sea could blow some sense into me.

It made me unreasonably happy to see Kwan standing at the transom with a fly rod. He was flipping the line back and forth in a graceful even motion. I crept up behind him, but I should have known better than to sneak up on him. Without turning around he said, "Miss Raina, if I didn't recognize your footsteps, I might have knocked you flat for that."

"Sorry Kwan. I
was testing you."

"Be careful what you test."

I stood beside him and watched him flick the line over and over again before allowing the end to land on a spot in the water.

"What are you fishing for?"

"I'm not trying to catch a fish. Nothing caught in this water would be edible at any rate."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Just practicing. Fly fishing is a very meditative sport. Handling the rod just so has a Zen quality to it."

"I see." It
was
rather mesmerizing to see the brilliant orange line make fluid 'S's' against the backdrop of the blue and pink setting sun sky. "Can I ask you something?"

"You can certainly ask. Whether I answer depends."

"I know about Elsa Maynard."

"That's not a question."

"I mean I know he was engaged to her and I know that she died."

"That much is public knowledge. And you still haven't asked me a question."

"Did you know her?"

"No."

That surprised me. For some reason I figured Kwan had been with Tristan since time began. "How long have you worked for Tristan?"

"Five years."

"So you must have been hired right after she was killed."

"The two events were related."

"He hired you because she was killed?"

"I like to think that was only part of the reason."

"Do you know how she was killed?"

"As much as anyone except Tristan, I suppose."

"Will you tell me what you know?"

"I would consider that a betrayal of trust."

"Well, was it an accident or what?" Tristan had said as much but I wanted to know what the general thought was.

"I think that's something you should ask Mr. Tristan. It's not my place."

I decided to change tactics. "Did Tristan come here, to
Cap d'Agde
with Elsa?"

"As far as I know, I brought him here for the first time."

"You? Why ever would you bring him here?"

Kwan put his rod down and turned toward me. "In the beginning, he rarely wanted me to be out of his sight. After a few months, I was really longing for a little male companionship other than my boss's. What better place to be able to leave someone alone for a few hours than a nude beach? How much harm can come to a person wandering among naked tourists? I obtained an accomplished and beautiful lady to keep him company and wandered down to my own section. It's at the far end of the 'adult beach'. Five years ago," he added wistfully, "there was a lot more action in the dunes."

At this point, I was ready to hug Kwan. So, it wasn't Elsa who christened the place with him, it was good old Kwan. Kwan, the procurer of whores, Kwan the fashionista, Kwan the protector of mothers. What a great guy he was turning out to be. I couldn't stop grinning at how wrong I had been.

"Miss Raina?"

"Yes?"

"Would you be offended if I gave you some advice?"

"Not at all, I could use all the help I can get. Your boss is a hard one to figure out."

"Actually, no, you're wrong there. He is very simple to figure out."

"Enlighten me."

"In spite of his career, in spite of his success and all the planning and forecasting that goes into it, Tristan very much lives in the here and now. He seizes the day, as they say."

"I can see that, yes."

"He doesn't spend time dwelling on things that have passed and he doesn't spend energy on things yet to come. If you choose to remain with him, I suggest you aim to do likewise."

"No analysis. No expectations," I mumbled. It was not the kind of advice I found easy to swallow. Not that Kwan's advice was any different than what I had already been told, in no uncertain words and more than once.

"Those who know and enjoy Tristan the most, and we are few, do so because we allow ourselves to become part of his present."

***

I went back to the master stateroom to freshen up for dinner and once again wrap my head around the situation I found myself in.
Tristan was still working. I presumed he had an office on board somewhere, but that hadn't been part of my grand tour. I was glad to have a little time to think. Kwan was probably as close to Tristan as anyone. I knew I'd be stupid to ignore his advice.

I had
a great guy to spend time with. He was smart, affectionate, generous, funny, and most of the time he was easy going. Sexually speaking, he might as well have invented it as far as my life was concerned. No one had ever attracted me as suddenly and thoroughly as the man I saw for the first time on the Mahkeenac Little Theater stage. From the moment I saw him I wanted him. When I had him, it was the most erotic and satisfying thing I'd ever known. To say he exceeded my expectations would be ridiculous. No woman could have expected the kind of fucking this man delivered.

Suddenly, it hit me. I stumbled onto at least a clue as to what Tristan meant by 'no expectations'. Was it possible that he was such an incredible lover precisely because
I had no expectations
? Were the gifts he gave me all the more precious because I could not have anticipated them? More to the point, was it possible to carry that concept into the emotional part of the relationship? Could I, could
anyone,
love without expectations?

I studied my face in the mirror as I brushed my hair. There wasn't any point in trying to hide it from myself. There was no one around to hear me ask my brown-eyed reflection:
Can you do it
?
Can you love one day at a time? Can you love without answers?

Nine

"Raina? Raina?" The knock was insistent and the voice…not good. I quickly pulled the light cotton sweater over my head and answered the door.

"What is it Kwan?"

"Mr. Tristan needs you in his office right now."

I followed Kwan's quick steps up to the next deck and past the huge salon. I'd seen the spiral staircase in the corner of the fabulous room, but hadn't had enough free time to explore every nook and cranny of
King's Risk. I'd missed Tristan's nest tucked above it all. Kwan told me to go up the stairs. Something made me take them two at a time.

I knocked once and opened the door without being asked in. Tristan sat at a
glossy wood desk surrounded by lots of books and plenty of high tech gadgets including at least three computers. He leapt to his feet and came around the desk when I entered the room.

"Sweetheart…" I should have been thrilled at the endearment. Instead, I was terrified by the look in his eyes and the way he pulled me protectively into his arms.

I pushed away from him enough to see his face and asked, "What happened, Tristan? Is it my parents?" That was the only thing it could be…the only thing that would put that look of panic on his face and make my heart pound like cannon fire in my chest.

"I'm so sorry. So sorry. Artie called. They got to Ma
rjorie."

"Mom??? Tell me!"

"Early this morning. Your father went back to work yesterday. He surprised everyone, including the bodyguards. They didn't have time to do any real reconnaissance on the job site or call in back up. So one of them stayed at the house with your mother and the other one went with your father."

All I could do was nod and stare.

"Don had a lot of pent up energy and a bee in his bonnet when he got to the job site. He made a lot of noise about how he wasn't going to cave into punks. Said he was sick to death of everyone from the Teamsters to the Teacher's union wanting their piece of every tenpenny nail. He made a lot of noise about not giving up until someone paid attention."

"My mother, Tristan, tell me about my mother!"

"This morning, your neighbor, Mrs. Caper . . ."

"Caperelli."

"Mrs. Caperelli came over and found George bound and gagged in the room on the ground floor and your mother gone."

"What the hell do you mean GONE? Gone where?"

"The assumption is that she's been kidnapped."

"Oh my God. Mom." Tears rolled down my cheeks with the image of my wonderful mother at the hands of some bastards like the ones who beat up Dad.

"Okay, now listen to me." Tristan took my shoulders in his strong hands and grabbed onto my eyes with his. "They didn't hurt George. I don't think they're planning to hurt your mother. They want something from your father and your mother's the best way to get to him. Think about it."

I gulped back a sob. He was right. It was awful, but panic was going to get us
nowhere. "What now?"

"Obviously, I want to get back to New York as soon as possible. I don't suppose there's any way you'd let me leave you here, out of harm's way? With Kwan?"

I shot him a look that was all the answer that absurd question deserved.

"Right, then.
Let's go."

***

By the time Tristan reached around me to fasten my seatbelt in the plane, he had been on the phone with the mayor of New York, the Chief of Police and the director of the FBI. I would have been impressed with the line-up of people who would take his calls, if I hadn't been literally sick with worry.

In between his calls, Tristan had also managed to wipe my cold sweaty brow after I blew the contents of my stomach by the side of the road and again in the elegant bathroom of his airplane. I looked in the mirror after I finished retching and my skin had taken on an unnatural shade of gray. When I came out, Tristan took me back to the master stateroom. He stripped my clammy clothes off and wrapped me in my elegant red velvet robe. Then he sat me on the bed and put a pair of his white cotton athletic socks on my
trembling feet. Grabbing the furry throw from the bed, he marched me out to one of the recliners and pushed it all the way back. Then he covered me up and strapped me in.