Everyone who came here found that out quickly enough. And they had as many crazy theories about the magic they’d found here as they did for the Triangle itself. She’d heard that it was a fantasy-granting genie in disguise. That the island belonged to a tribe of tropical succubi who could induce mass hallucinations. That an ancient Titan, imprisoned in the Devil’s Triangle for unspeakable crimes, was now forced to play Cupid for eternity in penance. Then there were those who just called it heaven and enjoyed the mystery and the five-star service, which was probably the wisest course.
Trying to solve the island’s mysteries only led to frustration. No one ever knew for certain. All they knew was that once Mr. V sent out one of those unique invitations, the mystical wheels that ensured the healing of a heart, the return of a lost love or a secret fantasy made flesh were set in motion. Since she’d been here it had never failed. No one was immune to Eden’s siren song. Hell, not even vampires could resist.
Vampires.
She could wrap her head around a magical, sentient island and invisible architecture, but an actual vampire as a guest still had her shaking her head in bemusement. And she had seen some crazy shit in the last few years.
Joely raised her fist to bang on the front door, hesitating long enough to glance over her shoulder.
“Not me, okay?” She spoke softly, letting the morning breeze snatch her voice and carry it across the island. “I already have what I want here. You know I do. We’ve got a good thing going, don’t we? I don’t need anything else. I don’t want anything else.”
She held her breath, waiting for Eden’s response. Unfortunately the island was stubbornly silent as usual, and even the birds had stopped singing by the time the large, intricately carved wooden door opened on its own with a soft whoosh of sound.
“Fine,” she grumbled, her worn hiking boots echoing loudly on the marbled floor of the foyer. “But if this conversation goes south, your broody boyfriend isn’t going to be the only one I stop talking to.”
She passed the artwork that lined the walls, beautiful Renaissance scenes of lovers’ embracing and starkly riveting photographs of violent ocean storms. One former guest was a well-known artist, and he’d sent a framed oil painting of the island to Mr. V in thanks. Every tree and flower, every sloping hill and rocky crag, had been infused with soft light, and the island itself was surrounded by mist, giving it an otherworldly feel. Hidden subtly in the waterfalls, streams and ocean waves were couples erotically yet tastefully entwined, leaving Joely no doubt that the painter had an intimate understanding of Eden’s aphrodisiacal qualities. And in a copse of trees, protected from the sun by a canopy of concealing leaves, stood the shadowed figure of a man, his face obscured, observing it all. Forever alone.
Joely loved the painting, though it never failed to tug at her heartstrings. This was how Vardalos saw himself, how everyone saw him except for her. And Eden. The island had embraced him long ago, not out of pity, but because of his spirit. He was a good man, stronger than he knew and the only one capable of creating this place that had helped so many.
Though at this moment she might question his recent decision-making skills and she was rightfully pissed at him, he was more than a shadow in Eden. He was the heart of it all.
Out of habit, Joely patted the naked behind of the Greek statue that stood in the long hall like a decadent sentinel. This place begged for dirty fingerprints and muddy floors. Beautiful and empty and the antithesis of a bachelor pad, it begged for life and laughter, dinner parties and hell-raising children who were sure to break a vase or two. Instead it sat here, unseen and lonely, waiting with its owner for
her
. The woman of his beasty dreams.
“Joely, is that you?” Her boss’s deep voice was coming from his office, so she strode determinedly toward that open door. “I wasn’t expecting you for another hour. Did you get a chance to glance at the files on today’s arrivals?”
Her indignation swelled up again at his question and she swept into the room with the force of a tornado, tossing the thick, crumpled paper with its golden edges and elegant design down on his desk.
“No, sir, Mr. Vardalos, sir, I didn’t get the chance. Do you know why? Because when I opened my door on my way to the dock,
that
was sitting right on top of your precious files.”
Joely planted her hands on her hips and sent him her most judgmental glare, which was promptly undermined by the hank of hair that fell over her eye. She blew it away impatiently. “Say something, big guy. And it better be good.”
Vardalos scowled at the unexpected attack, his brow furrowing as he snatched up the offending object and studied it closely. She noticed his hair was still wet and his shirt unbuttoned. Way too casual a look for him. He didn’t look like he’d been expecting her. After all this time he must not know her very well if he thought she’d take this lying down.
“It’s an invitation.”
“That higher education of yours keeps paying off. Thank you so much for clearing that up for the peons. You mind telling me why it has my name on it? I know how seriously you take these things. You’ve told me often enough.” She raised her voice to make sure he was listening as he turned the card around in his hand in thoughtful silence. “So often that I’m completely confused as to why you chose to use one as a practical joke. This
is
a joke, right? It has to be, since this
never happening
was part of our verbal contract when I agreed to stay on.”
The large, scarred man walked over to his desk and set down the envelope, reaching for a slender brass key in his pocket to unlock the top drawer. It was where he kept them, she knew. The invitations that were sent only to those he’d carefully selected to be guests of Eden. He pulled one out and compared the two. As if he didn’t know they were identical in every way.
As if he didn’t know.
A chill raced up her spine and the truth hit her so hard she nearly stumbled. How could he not know?
“How?” she repeated out loud.
Theodosius was not a happy man. “I honestly have no idea. This is impossible. It
is
an invitation, and the writing is mine as well, but I didn’t do this, Joely. You know I didn’t. You always know.”
“I do now.” She started pacing, shaking her head. She should have sensed it right away, but her emotions had gotten the better of her. Her fear and the feeling of betrayal that had engulfed her when she thought Vardalos was behind her unexpected invitation.
“Well, that’s a load off,” she said to break the tense silence that had descended. “This is good, right, big guy? It’s a copy. A fake. A fake doesn’t count. Someone in your employ is playing a prank on me, completely oblivious to the fact that I have no sense of humor and could have them thrown out of my plane for mutiny.”
Theo was still rubbing the stock between his fingers. “It’s not a fake, Joely. I helped create the stock myself, remember, for the sole purpose of these invitations. The man who designs them for me is only given enough material to make what I require, and he is paid handsomely enough to be exclusive. It is the same.”
Joely wasn’t sure how he knew the difference. How he could feel it. “It’s still just paper, isn’t it? It’s harmless.”
“Harmless?” Anger transformed his face into a fearsome mask, his scars stretching and jaw tightening. “Someone forged one of my invitations and recreated my handwriting flawlessly. If this is a prank it isn’t harmless. It’s dangerous. But I can’t begin to guess who would do it, or why. Perhaps we should get Security involved.”
She didn’t like where this was heading. He had his paranoid beast face on again. He’d get everyone involved and talking about her. She tugged it out of his hand. “It doesn’t matter, big guy. You didn’t send it. You didn’t sign it. It isn’t an actual invitation.”
Joely made sure he was watching as she tore it up into as many pieces as she could and let them fall on the floor around her. She ignored his flinch at the action.
“You are destroying evidence.”
“I’m solving a problem.”
Unless it was the island…
She definitely needed a personal day. Soon. The island was miraculous, but she doubted it would go to the trouble of forging Vardalos’ scrawl and sending mail to her rooms. She needed to forget about it entirely, its arrival and her reaction to it, and focus on her work. That was what she did best. That was all the fantasy she needed.
“Since I’m here and I didn’t get a chance to look at the files—rough outline—who do I need to be today? Invisible pilot, humorous distraction or supportive ally? And please tell me I’m not transporting a werewolf anytime soon. Wanda is a small craft and she doesn’t do wild animals.”
He stepped away from her, avoiding her eyes, an expression of concern on the unmarred side of his face. “You never have to be anyone but yourself, Joely.”
Vardalos didn’t understand how much she enjoyed her job. She was the gatekeeper, the first stage of the Eden experience for most of the guests, and for that her abilities were a gift she enjoyed. The island could be overwhelming on its best days. Lord knew she’d been thrown for a loop the first night she’d spent here. That was why she loved being Eden’s representative almost as much as she loved flying. Loved seeing the doubt and insecurity transform to hope and wonder on each new face when they realized nothing would ever be the same—it would be better.
He looked so uncomfortable she was starting to get nervous again. “Can I at least have a hint?”
“Two guests, both male. Courtney Stiles was a last minute addition. I wasn’t sure his need was all that dire but in his letter he was so adama—”
“Courtney? You get letters you ignore all the time, but you let a man named Courtney wrangle an invitation?” She chuckled until he sent her a speaking look.
“He prefers Court—and, I’d assume, people who don’t laugh at his name while he’s on vacation. And I chose to invite him because he’s a close, personal friend of your other passenger.”
Joely shifted and crossed her arms. “Roger that, big guy. So I’m picking up Stiles and his good buddy…?”
“A return visitor.” Vardalos moved to sit behind his desk, buttoning his shirt with slow, precise movements. Too slow. Too precise.
I won’t like it.
A return visitor she wouldn’t like. That didn’t narrow it down much since he knew she didn’t approve of his occasional decisions to double down on the rare invitations. There were too many people out there who’d never had a single dream come true, people who deserved what the island could give them. She
knew
there were. She’d met more than her share of them over the course of her life.
“You’re afraid to tell me. Is it that gold-toothed widower who called my Wanda a deathtrap and asked to see my pilot’s license?” She pressed her palms into the desk and tilted her head playfully at him. “If so I’ll be nice, I promise. Only a little extra turbulence on my joy ride.”
Her boss sighed heavily. “It’s Austin, Joely. And before you say it, yes, this will be his fourth visit. Not that I have to explain myself or my reasoning to you, but he and I were friends once. Good friends. Trust me when I say he has more than earned his right to revisit Eden.”
Austin. “Austin Wright is coming back? Today?”
Why didn’t I know that? Didn’t I dream about him last night? Wasn’t that why I woke up before the sun to train in the gym until I stopped seeing his smile and feeling his hands on my body?
She tried not to think about it. There had been no reason to imagine last night’s dream had been any different than the ones she had on a regular basis. A very regular basis. Austin Wright was just a conveniently attractive man that her subconscious had decided to cast in her erotic fantasies. It didn’t mean anything.
Something is coming.
Someone
is coming.
Was his visit what she was afraid of? Why did her reaction to the man always upset her? He was a wealthy guest who knew the boss and so got special attention from the staff, which she disapproved of. He was serious, and as a rule she didn’t trust a serious man who wasn’t Mr. V. He was too…
Too what? Intelligent? Sexy? Interested in her?
Joely could still remember the smile in his light-gray eyes when he’d gotten off the plane in Miami after his initial visit. That smile had replaced the broken, haunted visage he’d worn when he arrived, which meant Eden had done its job and earned another satisfied customer. She’d been happy for him then.
She hadn’t been able to stop herself from committing his handsome face to memory as he disembarked—the strong jaw and thick lashes, the unfairly sensual shape of his lips. It was only when he’d grimaced in frustration as he was settled back into his wheelchair by his driver that she’d remembered that staring was rude.
His second trip to the island, Austin had arrived for the flight on crutches, and the third time he’d used a cane, and both times she’d flown him back to the island, those piercing eyes had studied her and seen through her in a way no other guest had bothered to before.
He’d started to talk more during their trips. He’d listened intently to her purposefully short responses and, in her opinion, heard too much in her answers. And his smile… He smiled in a way that made her stomach knot up. Made her think about what he was doing on the island the entire time he was here. The man had gotten under her skin.
Worse, Vardalos had never given her a single hint, either in his files or their conversations, about why Austin had to keep coming back. How many unspoken fantasies and heart’s desires could one man have? Who were they about?
What wasn’t the boss telling her? “Are you going into business with him? Is he blackmailing you with some juicy bit of scandal from your past?
Four times
, Mr. V. Guests don’t get invited back four times.”
“Unless I want them to.” That voice told her the discussion was closed and Joely had the infantile desire to throw a genuine tantrum.
Was the universe trying to drive her crazy? First the phony invitation and now… Oh God. Was it a coincidence? It had to be. No one else could know how often Austin had invaded her dreams.