The Tycoon's Forced Bride

Chapter Seven

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They swam and splashed about the pool for a half hour and then lay on the plush lounge chairs, soaking up the sun for another half hour. They were still relaxing when staff appeared and set the table on the veranda.

It was a joy to eat lunch outside with the stunning view of the rocky, green hills that gave way to the dazzling turquoise water. It was warm without being too hot. And the seafood lunch was perfectly flavored. Ava ate more than she usually did and could tell Colm approved.

“I’m glad you’re eating” he said, as she finished the prawn salad. “I hate that you have spent most of your life starving yourself to stay ballerina thin. Your life has been about constant deprivation.”

“I try not to think of it that way. It’s not deprivation. It’s a discipline.”

“Do you still count every little calorie?”

“If I had my notebook here, yes.”

“Why?”

“It’s habit.”

“But you’re so slender, Ava. You could stand to gain five, ten, fifteen pounds, and your body needs protein, vitamins, nutrients. You need to eat real food, good for your body and soul, food.”

She grimaced. “You’re a bit of a nag, you know.”

“I refuse to be offended.”

She shook her head, smiling. “That’s fine, but, just know, I can’t spend all four days here eating and drinking. There must be moderation.”

“We did swim, and walk a little.”

“It is gorgeous here.” She glanced around, taking in the lush landscaping of palms, white hibiscus, and bougainvillea in shades of white, pink, and purple. “The view is incredible, but it’s also surprisingly peaceful.” Growing up, her family had a beach house in Mar del Palata on Argentina’s Atlantic coast, but that was truly a house on the beach while Colm’s villa was part of a sprawling estate on a side of a mountain. The beach wasn’t anywhere nearby. In fact, she wasn’t sure he even had beach access. “If you want to go to the beach, where do you go?”

“We have our own beach down below.”

“How do you get there?”

“There’s a little gondola that whisks guests up and down the mountain.”

“You’re joking!”

“No. It was here when I bought the estate, and I’m glad, because what is the point of having a Caribbean getaway if you don’t have a private beach?”

“A five-acre estate, with four guest bungalows and a private gondola must have been a serious chunk of change. Dare I even ask how much it was?”

“You’d be disgusted. A ridiculous extravagance, but it did help a friend.”

“Fifteen million.”

“Far more disgusted than that.”

Her eyes widened. “Over twenty?”

“You’re still off by quite a bit.”

“Colm!”

“I thought you’d like the gondola.”

“Don’t even put that on me. That’s absurd.”

“It’s an investment, and it’ll hold its value. St. Barts is the hot spot in the Caribbean, and has been for years—” He broke off as a young woman in a tailored, dove gray dress approached. “I have a surprise for you,” he said to Eva. “This is Genevieve, and she’s your assistant for the next few days.”

Ava shot Colm a quick, worried glance. “Why do I need an assistant?”

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“To make sure you’re comfortable,” he answered.

“But I am already,” Ava protested.

“She’ll make you even more comfortable.”

“Is that possible?”

“Genevieve used to work for a very exclusive spa in Switzerland. She’s an expert in pampering and she has something planned for you this afternoon while I sit in on some conference calls with New York. Don’t be nervous. This is supposed to be fun, so go with her now, and I’ll see you later this afternoon, for cocktails and dinner.”

Colm had meant to be reassuring but Ava’s stomach knotted as she followed Genevieve down a garden path towards one of the guest bungalows.

“You’re here to relax,” Genevieve said cheerfully, leading the way up the steps and into a spacious room decorated in tropical pinks, greens, and coral with a breathtaking view of the turquoise sea. “Mr. McKenzie has insisted everything be perfectly pleasurable, and that’s exactly how it shall be.”

Ava watched Genevieve open a door to an adjacent bath.

“There’s a robe here for you,” Genevieve added, walking briskly through the pink and white marble bath that looked almost like a sweet confection, and gestured to a plush, pale pink robe hanging on a gold hook next to the enormous glass shower. “Why don’t you shower and then slip into the robe. Don’t put anything on under your robe. Once dressed, come out and I’ll take you to the garden?”

“The garden?” Ava repeated, feeling foolish, and terribly out of her element. She’d be better off in New York right now. She wasn’t good at this sort of thing. She didn’t know how to relax anymore. Nor could she afford to relax. Bad things happened if she let down her guard. She missed her notebook and her lists and her focus more than ever right now.

But Genevieve was oblivious to Ava’s discomfort and set about opening the rest of the sliding plantation shutters to allow more afternoon sunshine to flood the high ceilinged bathroom, revealing a private walled garden off the bath. The walled garden teemed with tropical flowers and a linen covered massage table stood in the midst of the lush greenery. “We’ll do the massage outside. It’s perfectly private so you can relax, and then after the massage, we have a pedicure and manicure planned, and then your hair.”