The Billionaire's Desire

But Carter Easton's wealth is on another level entirely.

I swing my car into the space where I'm directed, my mind whirling. A private island, how could someone possibly need all that space, all that privacy? Reclusive be damned, he has to have an ego the size of the island itself, I decide. A billionaire recluse, it is almost too clichéd to be real. Deep down, he has to want to show off his fortune. That was probably why he wanted to host the wedding. That had to be it.

I accept the pilot's helping hand and step in to the helicopter like it is nothing at all to me. As he runs his checks, I'm sitting in the seat, trying to harden my heart. This is no big thing to me at all, I try to say with my body language. I ride on private helicopters every damn day.

But it is impossible not to feel my breath catch in my throat as we lift off and zoom out over the white-capped ocean. It shimmers below us in the summer sunlight, showing the colors of turquoise in the shallows giving over to the deep indigo of the depths.

Annika Island is directly ahead, sitting like an emerald jewel in the sapphire sea, curved like a crescent moon, the two points aimed towards the mainland. A huge mansion sits above the bay, white and gleaming like a pearl necklace along the throat of the island, clinging to the cliff through some marvel of architecture. As we fly closer, I can see the white, sandy beaches in detail; little hidden coves dotting the shoreline. My heart gives a little unwelcome lurch both from jealousy and a twinge of fear. My hand wanders down to clasp my cellphone. I still have full strength; I can call Tricia if I need to.

The landing is so smooth I barely realize we are on the ground until the pilot turns to help me exit. The helipad is attached to an air-conditioned garage, filled with cars, at least fifteen that I can see although three or four hulking shapes underneath tarps tell me he has even more. Where the heck does he even drive this many cars? He lives on an island and commutes via helicopter! The ridiculousness of Carter Easton is firmly entrenched in my brain by now.

I am scoffing at him, even as the planning wheels are turning. This is indeed an incredible location for a wedding. I step out of the elevator into the first floor and stand stock still, taking it all in.

The walls are all glass, doors flung open to the sea breeze, the scents of the sea wafting in on the light breeze. I turn my head and inhale the whisper of jasmine and wonder if it grows wild in the tress in the wooded interior.

"Hello?" I call into the wide-open space. There is no one there to greet me, which I find odd. The helicopter pilot flew off immediately after dropping me off, explaining that Mr. Easton allowed him to eat dinner with his family most nights, and that he'd be back just as soon as I called. I try to ignore the feeling of being trapped and tap out another message to Tricia. "Here on the island. Will check in soon."

"Hello?" I repeat, stepping forward. The whole first level is wrapped in an immense, deep deck as large as the interior space. I am already moving towards it before I realize I should probably wait to be invited. But dammit, if no one is going to be here to greet me, how can I be invited?

Once I step out onto the deck, it hits me. This is sheer perfection. There was never a more perfect place to hold an intimate wedding. I can already imagine the set-up. A sunset wedding out on the beach, cocktails on the deck, the colors of pink reflecting off of the gentle peaks of the waves, while the sky above flames in oranges and violets. A white pergola at the shoreline, the groom dressed in white linen, the bride's hair loose and flowing. I will suggest maids dresses that compliment the colors of the sky above, perhaps several different shades of the same dress.

Already the picture is forming in my head.

I stand on the deck, the gentle breeze lifting my hair and brushing against my skin like a lover's caress. I am sunk so deeply in my own, solitary vision that I startle badly when I realize I am not alone.

Chapter Six

Carter

She barges in here like she owns the place, mouth working silently as she scans everything with wide, keen eyes the color of topaz.

The first thing I notice is that she is spell-bindingly, ridiculously gorgeous. Cammy neglected to mention that part, though my little sister has never been one to appreciate flamboyant beauty. Cammy is quiet and shy, pretty in a subdued sort of way. This woman is none of that. She is all splashed out glamor. I have never seen anyone look so flat-out sexy in such a simple dress.

The second thing I notice is that this doesn't matter. I want her gone, out of my space. I promised Cammy I would be good. No, not good. I promised her I'd be okay.

I offered to host out of guilt, and Cammy knows it. She was still trying to change my mind, even as she called me after meeting Sanniyah Jones two days ago. But she wants to have the wedding here, I can tell. And my baby sister deserves to have the wedding she wants.

"If you like her, then that's all that matters, Cammy," I told her over the phone, keeping my voice nice and light and even.

"I like her." My sister's voice was crackly, like she was farther away than she really was. Like there was more than just a couple miles of water between us. "She...she didn't ask questions about it, Carter." I remembered pressing my lips together, fighting the urge to fill in Cammy's words for her. She is over her stutter, but it still crept back sometimes, and hesitation is a way she tries to mask it. "She didn't ask questions about...you."

I could feel myself nodding, even as I was gripping my phone more tightly than I meant to. "Well then that's settled," I said tightly, hoping I sounded more sure than I felt.

"Carter?"

Shit, she wasn't fooled. "Yeah Cam."

Her voice was so soft I could barely hear it over the crackle on the line. "You don't have to do this."

I had sat bolt upright in the deck chair, that evening, as if Cammy could see me somehow. "You're right, I don't have to. I want to Cam. My gift to you." I swallowed. "Start the happy new chapter of your life off right."

"I know how you feel about letting people in, Carter."

I tried to laugh it off. "I'm not letting them in, I'm just feeding them. Besides," I clarified, "they aren't just anyone. They're your people. I trust you Cam."

"I hope you do for real, big brother. You don't have to make up for what happened. I've told you this a million times, it's not your fault."

I stood up from the deck chair then, and stalked into the house. "Yes, you've told me," I repeated.

Cammy waited for me to say something further. When I didn't add anything, she sighed a sigh that came through the line as clear as if she was standing right here, watching me pace. "Be kind to yourself, Carter," she said, sadly. "Mom and Dad would want you to."

"Well, since they aren't here to tell me that themselves..." I swear I tried to catch myself before I said anything else, but it was too late. Cammy's voice caught in a little sob. "Shit, Cam, no, don't cry, okay? Look, I'm okay. I'm just going to go for a swim, now. I'll meet with your chosen wedding planner Friday and everything will go smoothly." I looked down at my hand and forced myself to unclench it. "You're getting married, Cam," I said, as gently as I could. "Be happy."

"You too," she swallowed. "I love you. Bye Carter."

"Bye Cammy." I lingered until the line went dead. Then I turned and hurled the phone into the couch. It bounced slightly, not nearly the effect I wanted. I whirled and grabbed a decorative piece of crap the decorator had stuck on the shelf and hurled that to the floor. It shattered into a million pieces and I felt marginally better.

I can still see one of those pieces glinting in the corner as I sit here now. It winks at me like an accusation. "There is a gorgeous woman in your house...aren't you going to say hello?"

Fuck. I turn around and start to rise, just as she makes a beeline for my deck. I make to follow her, and then stop short.

The

sight of her standing there, leaning against the railing, her ripe, round ass swaying slightly as she stares off into the horizon is enough to drain all of the blood from my brain. Her elegant profile is highlighted in the setting sun, and I am suddenly thinking about goddesses and deities and idols from ancient times. Her forehead curves over elegant brows that swoop above her eyes like gullwings. Her cheekbones strain against her caramel skin, showing off her perfect bone structure.

But her lips.

Her lips are going to be the ruin of me, I can see that already. I want to kiss them. No, I want to devour them, claim them. I am so hungry for them right now, that I swear I cannot remember what my life was like before I saw them. For one, strange moment, I move out of my shattered head and am the Carter Easton of old. The impulsive risk-taker who always got what he set out for.