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Making no move to pick up the fallen credit card, Dorian spins in a slow circle until our eyes lock. Dark, sinister, they resemble nothing of the mesmerizing brown eyes I’m used to seeing. A chill races up my spine. Twisting up his neck, a snake tattoo weaves over his dark, tan flesh, further reminding me that he is not Damien.Crossing my arms over my chest, I try to look away.
He smirks. “What ‘bout her? You gonna share you pilialoha, too?”
Damien's face jerks toward mine. “Kalena.” My name is a whispered prayer on his lips as his body freezes and all the hard lines on his face soften. “You're not going near her.” He spins back toward his brother, taking a few steps to stand between us. “Velasquez,there are a few businesses I bought this week on the windward coast. Call them, set up tours and take Mr. Aolani to visit each one of them this morning. Find him a suitable job.”
“Yes, sir.” The youngest man surrounding him jerks to life, Carlos Velasques, nodding his head and standing taller.
“Kalena,” Damien calls as the elevator doors behind him close, taking Dorian and Velasquez with them, “I booked you a spa day. Your toe polish is cracked. Get it fixed.” I glance down at my bare feet, tucking one under the other.He's using the same tone on me he did with Velasquez, dismissing me as easily. “Take Hector and Kane.” He nods once before addressing the rest of his men.
One of them says something into an intercom unit on the wall. A few seconds later, the door to the west wing opens and half a dozen more men spill into the small entranceway.
I nod, even though he’s already turned away.As he instructs the rest of his team, I spin toward the large wall of windows, dismissed.
Through the reflection on the glass, I watch as he gives detailed instructions to the few men I recognize. The rest, he hands small blue cards.
I try not to listen. It's not my business. Yet, I catch the phrases, “Make sure you are seen,” given to one group while the other he tells, “Leave no trails.”
Out in the water, a group of dolphins swim. Keeping my eyes focused on the window, I watch the majestic creatures until they dive deep. The sun sits high in the sky, bathing the bright-blue waves with caps of gold. Sunbathers and surfers dot the sandy coastline. Oblivious and carefree, they soak up the rays and water.
For a moment, I wish I could be out there, free.
A splash of red catches my attention. Strolling along the warm sand, a large moke in red swim trunks waddles up to a blue umbrella and plops down. A chill races up my spine.
No, I don't need to be out there.
“Keep it clean,” Damien gives one last instruction before the men shuffle off.
“Ready, Miss?” a deep voice startles me.
Jumping, I turn to find Kane right beside me. Everyone else, including Damien have left. The door to the west wing closed, locked, along with all its secrets.
“Yes . . . Um, let me get my shoes.”
Chapter Two
Stepping out of the beauty salon hours later, warm sunlight bathes my face. I close my eyes, soaking in the salty air and sweet, tropical scented ambrosia.
“An early dinner?” Kane's gravelly voice cuts through the peace.
I open my eyes. People clutter the upscale shopping district, spilling out like an endless river onto the beach a few blocks away. My heart speeds up.
“No . . . I'll wait until we get home.”
He shares a look with Hector. “Afraid that wasn't a question. Boss requested it.” He points toward a café nearby.
Sighing, I head that way.
“Reservation for Aolani,” Kane states once we enter the beachside café.
The maître d' glances at his podium before jerking his eyes back to us. “Yes . . . Of course . . . Right this way.” With shaking hands, he grabs a few menus, then leads us toward the patio.
“Dove is in position,” Kane whispers once we are seated outside.
I glance over at their table near mine. He fidgets with an earpiece, then shifts in his seat.
“Will Damien be joining me?”
“No.” Clearing his throat, Hector picks up a menu. “He has . . . Other plans.”
