After ten minutes of dodging trees and pushing her body through wall after wall of brush, she realized she didn’t feel winded. Not one little bit. Whatever that man had given her wasn’t like any narcotic or vitamin she’d ever heard of. Frankly, if she wasn’t already scared as hell, she’d be freaking the hell out about having some foreign substance in her body.
When she finally reached the black and gold-sanded shore, she halted in shock. The entire sky shimmered and sparkled with hues of flaming orange. It was magnificent but frightening, because skies like that only existed in dreams.
Yeah, but this isn’t a dream. You need to find a way off this island. A small boat. A phone…something.
Looking side to side, trying to figure out which way to run, someone sacked her from behind, and she fell into the sand.
“I warned you, landlover!” It was that Shane guy.
He picked her up and twisted her around to face him. “This time, I’m going to tie you—”
Liv thrust her knee into his groin and the man instantly released her, groaning in agony. She ran as fast as she could, trying to stick to the wetter, firmer sand, hoping she could make it just around the bend ahead, where she might have a chance of cutting inland and hiding.
Run, Liv. Run hard. You’re almost—
“You stupid bitch!” Shane pushed her from behind, and her entire body flew into the shallow waves. He grabbed the back of her neck and shoved her face down, holding her under the sandy, turbulent water.
Oh God. Oh God. He’s trying to kill me. She clawed at his hands and kicked as hard as she could, but he was so strong. Just when she felt her panicked, out-of-breath body demanding air—air that wasn’t there—Shane pulled her up.
She sucked in a breath and screamed, “Help! Somebody!”
“I’ll help you, you cunt,” Shane bellowed with sadistic joy. “Now take a big breath because it might be your last.”
“No!” she yelled.
Shane gripped her by a fistful of hair and pushed her under again. She twisted and clawed for her life, thinking for sure this was it and feeling angry as hell that her life would end like this. It wasn’t fair to make it so far, only to die at the hands of some asshole.
Unexpectedly, Shane let her up. “Lucky for you, your fate’s already been decided.” Then he dragged her from the water and threw her over his shoulder so quickly it nearly gave her whiplash.
But as Shane turned to head back toward his cabin, she heard him grunt and they both tipped over into the sand.
Liv scrambled to get Shane off of her leg, and that’s when she saw him. The man was absolutely stunning. Like a sex god ripped straight from the pages of Greek mythology, with gloriously thick, golden-streaked, caramel-brown hair cut just above the ears and a menacingly tall, powerful frame. The exquisite angles on his lightly stubbled face were chiseled male perfection—strong jaw, supple lips, cleft chin, and perfectly shaped toffee-brown eyebrows.
Liv felt a jolt in her chest. “Who are you?” she asked, unable to speak with the full volume of her voice. And why was this real-life god standing on the beach in black slacks and a white dress shirt, dripping wet?
He tossed the thick branch he held in his hand and then dipped his head, narrowing his exotic green eyes, studying her. “I’m Roen Doran. How the hell did you end up on this island, Olivia Stratton?”
CHAPTER FOUR
“How do you know me?” Panting hard from the adrenaline, Liv got to her feet, unsure if she should be running from this beautiful man or running toward him. Something about this Roen Doran felt menacing.
“Your picture was all over the papers. I lost millions of fucking dollars because of you,” he said with a tiny hint of an accent. What was it? English?
She blinked at him. “I-I don’t understand.”
“Neverthehellmind. What are you doing here? And who the hell is that?” His gaze flashed to an unconscious Shane lying in the sand with his bare ass on display.
Dripping wet, she shook her head, trying to catch her breath. “I don’t know. My life raft drifted here, and he fished me from the waves.”
“It looked like he was trying to put you back. What did you do to piss him off?”
Why would he assume she’d done anything wrong?
“I ran from him,” she replied, “because one of them—their leader, I think—said he’s going to sell me or put me up for auction or something.”
Roen Doran rubbed his brows, wincing in pain. What was the matter with him?
“Great, just what I need,” he mumbled. “How many are there?”
Wow. What compassion.
“I don’t know. I only heard two men’s voices, but from the way they spoke, there are more.”
Roen looked down at his wet black leather shoes. “I don’t have time for this crap,” he said to himself and then reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. He stared at it for a moment and then held it to the sky. “No signal. We’ll need to wait until a satellite passes over.” He then bent his large, well-muscled frame and slipped his feet from his wet socks and shoes.
The man’s toes were perfectly pedicured. The most perfect set of man-toes she’d ever seen. Which, despite his civilized attire, seemed odd given how masculine he looked—like the kind of guy who’d sooner punch someone in the face rather than let them touch his toes.
“Can you walk?” he asked.
“Yes. But where are we going?” Not that she cared. Anywhere away from Shane was good, even if this guy seemed like a callous jerk.
“To find a place to wait until help arrives. Hopefully, they’re on the way already.”
“Who?”
“The crew of my ship. They’re only a few miles away, and by now they’ve realized my helicopter went down.”
That’s when Liv realized why Roen seemed familiar. “Wait. You’re Roen Doran.”
“I said that already.” He turned his body toward the water and began walking incredibly fast with those big long legs of his. “We need to step on the wet sand so the waves wash away our tracks.”
Liv followed closely behind. “I didn’t realize you were that Roen Doran.” The man’s name was synonymous with shipping, and he was perhaps the most sought-after billionaire bachelor on the planet. He’d even earned the Sexiest Man of the Year cover. He was also known for being a womanizer, cutthroat businessman, and a bit of a recluse. Yes, she may have read a few articles about him, but out of sheer curiosity only. She wasn’t one of those women—the thousands who worshipped him like a god, dedicating websites, blogs and entire Facebook pages to him.
He continued at a fast pace, and Liv glanced over her shoulder, checking to be sure that Shane was still out. Thankfully, he was.
“So what are you doing here?” she asked.
“I was looking for—I don’t know—I was looking for something,” he said in that deep, hypnotically masculine voice.
“You were out in the middle of the ocean, looking for something, but you don’t know what it was?” She found that strange.
“It’s a long story, and one I don’t care to discuss.”
Okay… “What happened to your helicopter?” she asked.
“The island foking appeared out of nowhere, and we clipped the tail of our helicopter on some cliffs.”
Foking?
“Who’s we?” she asked.
“My pilot. He’s dead.”
Roen didn’t seem to care one little bit.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Liv said. “But thank God you’re alive. You saved me.”
“I haven’t saved you yet. And frankly, it’s not a priority.”
Jesus. Could this man possibly be any more heartless? “You’re serious.”
“Now that I found this place, I want answers, and I’m not leaving until I get them.” He marched along the shallow waves, unconcerned with her in any way. And it wasn’t like the man didn’t know she’d been lost at sea for ten days. He knew damned well who she was.
“But I have to ge
t off this—”
“I wasn’t the idiot who decided to do my homework on a fishing boat in the middle of the Pacific.”
She scoffed. “Excuse me, but it was my dissertation. And where the hell do you get off talking to me like that?”
“Like what?”
Like you’re a complete asshole lacking any compassion for what I’ve just been through. “Never mind.” Having a discussion about his shortcomings as a human being wasn’t going to help her.
He held up his phone again, pointing it toward the sky. “Piece of bloody crap cost me five thousand dollars and doesn’t work. That salesman just lost his job.”
He’d spent five thousand on a phone? Did it produce water? Because despite feeling better, she was still thirsty. “I need something to drink.”
He looked at her. “Sorry. Fresh out of martinis.”
Wow. Just…wow. Yes, the man was drop-dead gorgeous and too beautiful for words—and every bit the vision of brutal masculinity women praised him for being—but the man truly was a colossal ass-hat.
“No. You don’t understand,” she said. “I’m really thirsty.”
“You look fine to me.” He focused on his phone, pressing buttons and swiping the screen.
“Look!” She grabbed his arm, squeezing hard and shocked as hell by what she found. A rock-solid forearm without an ounce of squishiness. “I’ve had maybe a glass of water in the last five days and that includes whatever crack-infused crap that psycho Neanderthal just fed me to bring me back from the dead.”
He glanced at her with a sneer as if to say it wasn't his problem.
Okay. Screw being nice. “I know that underneath the deceivingly handsome face, which allows you to pass for a real human being, is a complete narcissistic asshole, but I’m begging you. I don’t know what he made me drink, but I know I’m going to die if I don’t have water.”
He turned his entire body toward her and looked down, making her feel extremely small. “What do I get in return?” he asked with that deep, deep overtly sinful voice that one might easily find addictive.
Liv’s mouth fell open. “You can’t be serious.”
“Nothing is free.” His exotic green eyes twinkled with a roguish glint and his lips—full enough to make them look sensual even when he wasn’t trying—twitched with a smile. “And you know how us narcissistic assholes can be. Especially after surviving helicopter crashes and saving strange women from defilement. Personally, it puts me in one hell of a greedy mood.” His eyes momentarily flashed to her chest. Then again.
“Did you just look at my breasts?”
“Your T-shirt is wet. I couldn’t help it,” he said unapologetically.
Liv glanced down at her chest. Yep. The man can see everything, right down to my perky pink—ohmygod. Wait.
Liv pointed a finger at him. “You weren’t just suggesting I pay you by—”
He held out his large hand, and his full lips dropped any hint of a smile. “I don’t know what you’ve read or think you know about me, but I assure you, the exploitation of distressed women is not on my list of pursuits.”
The man’s tone sounded genuinely offended, and his fierce gaze offered the exclamation point.
Liv blew out a breath. Okay. They were both in a not-so-great situation. And he had definitely helped her earlier. “I’m sorry. I was out of line. And I’m really truly grateful you helped me, but I don’t think I’ll make it much longer without some fluids. All I’m asking for is a little help—”
Liv felt her knees buckle under the weight of her dehydrated body.
Strong arms caught her before she hit the wet sand. “For foke’s sake, woman.”
She looked up into those deep green eyes with hazel rings around the pupils gazing down on her with disgust.
“Why?” she mumbled.
“Why, what?” he snarled.
“Why do you hate women?”
“I don’t hate women. I hate weakness.”
“I’m not weak. I’m just thirsty,” she grumbled.
He stared for a long moment, intensely studying her eyes, her lips, her every facial detail. And when their eyes met again, she felt an odd sensation pass through her, like a jolt of electricity. The moment didn’t last longer than half a breath, and in a million years she’d never be able to fully articulate what she felt, but gazing into his eyes was like swimming in an ocean filled with torment, rage, sadness, and…well, it was how she felt when she’d been in that raft.
More importantly, however, she saw—or sensed, really—something else in the depths of those piercing green eyes. Whatever it was made her heart tingle and told her that this man wasn’t the coldhearted person he pretended to be. Because a person without any heart couldn’t possibly provoke such deep emotion inside her. It was impossible.
“You don’t scare me, Mr. Doran. So stop being an ass and find some water.”
He laughed and then the corners of those lips pulled into a breathtaking smile “All right, Miss Stratton. But don’t think I’m going to be your nursemaid. You’ll have to take care of yourself. At least until my ship sends a search party.”
“Liv. Call me Liv,” she mumbled quietly and blacked out.
~ ~ ~
What the hell have I gotten myself into? Roen grumbled to himself, holding the overly thin, dripping wet brunette, who looked surprisingly sinful in her dirty, tattered clothes—khaki pants ripped into shorts and a white T-shirt with the sleeves torn off. She also had a thick layer of grime stuck to her face, and was that… He dipped his head and took a whiff. She smells like chum.
He then noticed dried blood splatters on her clothes. What did they do to her?
He carried her across the narrow beach to the tree line and gently set her down in the shade on a patch of damp leaves. He rolled her onto her side, where the bloodstains seemed more concentrated, and inspected her back. She had a long lean frame with nice curves, but it was obvious she hadn’t eaten in a while. Her rib cage showed through and her arms looked pencil thin. Luckily, however, he didn’t see any wounds. On that side anyway.
He rolled her onto her back and gripped the front of her wet shirt, pausing for a moment. Touching her was unexpectedly turning him on. No doubt the woman was beautiful—probably a knockout when cleaned up and fed—however, this was no time to be thinking with his dick.
Be a man and get over it. You’ve seen plenty of beautiful naked women. He lifted the front of her shirt and tried not to notice her large, plump breasts packed tightly into a sheer pink bra, her pink nipples showing through. All right. So what? The woman has perfect natural breasts, but those aren’t for you. Of course, that didn’t mean he was going to forget them anytime soon or hadn’t thoroughly enjoyed the view.
“Well”—his words stuck in his throat—“you seem to be injury free on the front side, too.” He quickly inspected the back and sides of her head. It was difficult to tell with so much hair—wet, long, and sticky with salt water—but he saw no sign of injury there either. The blood hadn’t come from her; however, he had no doubt the man he’d hit with a branch intended to harm her.
Sick bastard. Roen lowered Liv’s shirt, trying to figure out what he would do next. He’d meant what he’d said about her situation not being a priority, but that was because he wasn’t in much better shape than his new “companion.” He just happened to hide it well. Fact was, whatever was wrong with him only seemed to be getting worse. And now he was on the brink of losing his fucking mind, including having just seen his dead mother.
Wait right there. That was not your mother. You watched her body go into the ground. Yet, the moment right before the helicopter’s tail slammed into the cliff—a cliff that literally came out of nowhere—he saw her standing at its edge, waving him back, telling him not to come here. Within the blink of an eye, she was gone and the helicopter spun out of control, hurtling toward the waves below. At the moment of impact, a chunk of windshield went right through the pilot, but Roen was ejected as the doors blasted open. He was
damned lucky not to have been strapped in or chopped up by the blades.
The question still begged, however, why the hell had he seen his mother? It was as if this dark cloud of his wanted to make him think of the past he’d fought so hard to forget.
“Get a bloody grip, Roen.” He shook his head and picked up Liv again.
Her brown eyes fluttered open. “I don’t want to die,” she mumbled deliriously. “Dana needs me to help with the party.”
Roen didn’t know who this Dana was, but obviously, Liv was not lucid.
“Krista won’t help,” Liv continued muttering. “She’s with the penguins…”
Roen raised a brow. All right, then. Parties and penguins.
“I can’t die. I can’t,” she said.
Each time he glanced down at the beautiful mumbling woman in his arms, his eyes lingered just a bit longer. Something about looking at her felt… goddamned euphoric, actually. Honestly, it was something he found hard to explain.
“You’re not going to die, but where did the blood come from?” he asked.
“There’s a shark in my raft. I don’t want to die.”
Roen was about to ask what shark, but in that moment, he was hit with yet another vision of his mother. It was of his last moments with her in the hospital when he was seventeen. The social worker told him she would be fine after the operation to repair her heart, but his mother—dazed from the medication—kept telling him that she didn’t want to die and to take care of his younger brother, Lyle. “Tell him to stay away from the water.”
“I don’t understand,” he’d said, trying to hold himself together.
“Yes! You do understand,” she’d said, her golden brown hair matted with sweat and her brown eyes surrounded by burst blood vessels. “Promise me, Roen. Promise you’ll keep him away. You have to stay away, too. Don’t go anywhere near the ocean. They’re coming for you.”