Terms Of Their Costa Rican Temptation

‘Two weeks.’

‘And if you’re not married by then?’

‘The company goes to my brother, who is married. And I’d rather see the whole lot burn in hell before I let that happen.’

Once again silence descended, occasionally punctuated by the thrash and thwack of Benoit’s machete. Skye had been surprised by the anger in his voice when he’d spoken of his brother. No matter what had happened with her sisters, no matter how hard she’d had to push them to do their homework or go to school, no mat

ter what she’d given up for that to happen, she could never imagine feeling that much anger or...hatred towards either of them.

She checked her watch and realised that it had been twenty-four hours since she’d last spoken to them. Without a signal she hadn’t been able to contact them last night, and this morning her phone’s battery had died. The thought of being out of contact with them, with her mum...it was like a thousand spiders crawling all over her.

Were they worried about her? Would they try to call the hotel that she hadn’t checked into? Would they try to contact the Costa Rican consulate? She thought of Summer, probably nose-deep in one of Catherine’s journals. Of Star, daydreaming about exotic far-flung places. Of her mother, who knew nothing about the journey they were on. They’d decided against telling Mariam any more than that they were stuck in Norfolk sorting out the terms of the will, not wanting to get her hopes up, or remind her of painful encounters with her father. But, beneath the rambling roll of her thoughts, Skye had buried deep the fear that they weren’t worried about her. That perhaps they weren’t even thinking about her at all.

Benoit began to cut off to the left and soon Skye realised why. She felt an inconceivable amount of excitement when she saw a crumbled concrete road through the dense foliage and jogged to meet him. They shared a victorious smile as they reached the tarmac and pressed on. Without the protection of the rainforest the sun’s heat was unbearable but the prospect of his home spurred them on. He pointed out the glimpse of a dark roof off to the left, but it wasn’t until they rounded the last twist in the road that Skye finally saw the house.

Wow.

Nestled into the side of a hill within the rainforest, the building sprawled in deep mahogany lines and large planes of glass reflected nothing but the shapes of leaves and trees. It had two tiers perching along the hill’s gradient, framed above by a large flat square of concrete that looked suspiciously like a helipad, the shape mirrored harmoniously below by an azure blue pool lined with trees to provide shelter and seclusion.

It took her the final fifteen minutes of their walk just to take it all in. It was the most beautiful construction she’d ever seen. The use of materials perfectly blended with the setting, but not just that...it was the detail. The finish. It was flawless. Rob would have probably dropped to his knees and wept to have seen such a thing. She was on the verge herself with the prospect of finally getting to a phone and speaking with her sisters. Once she knew they were okay, that Mum was okay, then she could talk to Benoit about the map.

She followed him through the front door, her eyes wide, expecting magnificence. She wasn’t disappointed. She took in everything—the incredible mezzanine floor book-ended by the most breathtaking floor-to-ceiling window she’d ever seen, creating a wall of green trees, leaves, plants and wildlife. The ground floor was large and open-plan; the kitchen and dining area were along one side and the sitting area was set at a slightly lower level. Skye couldn’t help but spin in a slow circle, trying not to feel overwhelmed by its opulence.

The furnishings were modern classic with touches of industrial materials mixing well with the natural wood and glass. Somehow the monotone shades suited the bright rich greens from the rainforest surrounding the house, ensuring that the natural artistry of the location was displayed to its fullest. Skye was drawn to the side wall of the sitting area—the entire length and breadth covered in rows and rows of book-covered shelves all the way to the ceiling. A stair ladder hung from rungs along the very top shelf. She had so many questions. But there was only really one to ask.

‘Can I use your phone?’

Benoit stilled just as he was putting his bag on the kitchen countertop, his whole body taking on the solidity of the concrete beneath her feet.

‘You cannot use yours?’ he asked.

‘My phone died last night, and my charger is in my suitcase back at the airport. Look, if you don’t want me using your phone, that’s fine. I’ll just borrow your charger.’

She frowned as she realised that he was looking at her oddly.

‘You don’t have a charger,’ he repeated slowly.

‘No,’ she said, unsure why he suddenly seemed so...weird.

‘When I said I come here to get away, I meant to Get Away. From everything.’

‘And?’ she demanded, beginning to feel a little irritated.

‘Everything includes phones, mobiles, internet...and phone chargers.’

‘What are you trying to say?’

‘I’m not trying. I’m saying. There is no way for anyone to contact me here. No way for you to call—’

‘We’re stuck here?’ she demanded, the realisation finally sinking in.

‘Until the helicopter arrives in four days’ time to pick me up? Yes. We’re stuck with each other.’

Forty-five minutes later and Benoit’s ears were still ringing. He must have told her one hundred times that it couldn’t be kidnapping if she was the one who’d got in his car. And the suggestion that her panic might be down to hunger had apparently been akin to saying that she was hormonal. She’d screamed. Actually, it had been more like a growl. Though, Benoit thought, that must be an English thing because he was starving and it was making him as angry as she appeared to be and he had no problem admitting that.

He winced as he heard the slam of one of the bedroom doors as she tore through his house, refusing to believe that his house was ‘off-grid’, as she had taken to calling it, or that he was that ‘irresponsible’, as she had taken to calling him.

‘What if there was an emergency and your family needed to contact you?’ she’d demanded.