Stranded With The Billionaire by Brynn Paulin
Chapter One
~ Lily ~
The silence was almost deafening. I stared at the bowl of soup before me, almost afraid to pick up my spoon and eat any. Lord knew what would happen if I dinged the utensil against the dish and created an unholy clatter. I mentally rolled my eyes but couldn’t hold back a small smirk. Making sound? An unspeakable horror.
My gaze lifted to take in my parents, who were seated at either end of the modest-length table. This one only seated eight. The larger table resided in the second dining room they rarely used—“they” because I had never been invited to those dinners. Inconvenient children weren’t allowed. Now that I’d graduated college, I wondered if that would change. Unlikely since I didn’t plan to stick around. Until this point, they’d run my life, mostly from afar. Even from a distance, they’d still maintained iron-fisted control over my education, lifestyle and social life. God forbid I should embarrass them. I never had, in part because I had plans for my future and in part because I’d once hoped to earn their favor. Eventually, I’d stopped caring about the latter.
As of five hours ago, I’d graduated with my teaching degree—a graduation they hadn’t bothered to attend. I’d flown home to see them and tell them my news: I had a job, I was moving away and they didn’t need to bother with me a moment longer. I was ready to make it on my own.
It might seem cold, but these people were strangers, despite birthing me. I knew the staff better than I knew my own mother and father.
Hands in my lap, I fingered the bracelet on my wrist and waited until I could flee to my room. First, I had to break this oppressive silence and deliver my news. I glanced over at Eleanora, my mother and found her scrolling through the phone that lay beside her dinnerware. Scandalous!
I almost snorted at my sarcastic thought. Apparently, anything was permissible when ignoring the others at the table. A fleeting look over at Martin, my father, showed him splitting time between perusing a file folder of papers and glancing toward the dining room entry.
Two of the servants came in through the kitchen doorway. The head maid, Marta, set down a tray with covered dishes on the sideboard. Coming to me, she gave me a small sympathetic smile then looked in question toward my untouched bowl while the other maid cleared my parents’ soup dishes. I offered a small shake of my head and motioned for her to take it away. She frowned but tipped a single nod.
“Marta,” my father snapped, his tone having nothing to do with anger and everything to do with his caustic, no-nonsense personality. “We’re expecting a guest to join us for dessert. Show him in when he arrives and set a place across from her.”
Her? He couldn’t even say my name? Offhand, I wondered if he even knew it. A silly thought because I knew he did. It was just too much bother for him. Whatever. I’d be out of here soon.
“Yes, sir,” Marta replied. She returned to the tray she’d brought in and retrieved my main course. Moments later, she set it before me. She pulled a small envelope from her apron pocket and slipped in onto the table under the edge of the plate. Her hand brushed against my arm, giving me a covert pat on the shoulder as she moved away.
Covering the envelope with my fingers, I drew it off the table and onto my lap then turned it into my pocket, thankful I’d chosen to wear the tailored blazer to dinner. Refocusing on my plate, I assessed the quiet-quotient on the china. I could eat the roll, perhaps spear a few beans and cubes of potato. Marta knew me so well and had made this easy for me. More so, she knew my parents and how they reprimanded me for every little thing.
I took a few bites, keeping an eye on my dad so I could find an opening to tell them my news. It was him I needed to watch. My mom was probably scrolling TMZ or the like. Equally possible was that she was texting her latest lover. Who knew? I didn’t, and I couldn’t care less which it was.
The main portion of dinner passed in much the same way as the soup course had, with no one speaking and prevailing silence other than the ever-so-faint classical music playing from hidden speakers, almost too quiet to be heard. I barely touched this food, either. If I had a different family, they’d know I hadn’t eaten any meat but fish in eight years, having maintained a mostly vegetarian diet other than the very rare bit of seafood.
That would work out well with my new job. My adviser at school had gotten me in touch with his brother a couple months ago. Professor Rutherford’s sibling had a small school on his private, plantation island in the western Pacific. It was one of the thousands of Micronesian islands. They already had a teacher, who I’d spoken with, but they needed a second. It was an amazing opportunity for a newly minted teacher, and I imagined, with it being an island, we’d eat mostly fish.
“Marta,” my father said as the maids cleared away the main course. “We’ll wait for dessert until—”
The doorbell chimed, interrupting him.
“Ah, that should be our guest now. Show him in.”
Marta nodded, and I watched as both my parents pulled up their game faces, my dad slipping away his work and my mom putting away her phone. Her hands smoothed over her perfect platinum hair and equally flawless clothes. When I glanced back over at my father, he’d stood, looking rigid yet domineering as he waited. Odd. Whoever this was must be pretty important.
“Mr. Ewing,” Marta announced from the room’s entry.
“Kyle,” my father boomed, moving forward to shake the man’s hand as my blood ran cold. “I’m so glad you could make it to meet our Lily.”
“Soon to be my Lily,” the newcomer replied, his voice raking over me and raising goose bumps of terror down my back.
His Lily?No damn way.
My head stuttered around toward him, horror dropping everything into slow-motion. What the hell was happening here?
Both my parents were smiling. The three of them were laughing together. I couldn’t fathom anything beyond the screeching in my head. This was the man who’d assaulted me four years ago. He’d almost raped me. No. Way. I had to get out of here. Now.
I jumped to my feet, my chair scraping on the hard-wood flooring as I looked for escape.
“Lily,” my father said. “This is Kyle Ewing. He’s the son of one of my board members, who’s also the CEO at ATL Financial.”
“Lily,” Kyle said, pulling my ice-cold hand into his and squeezing my fingers too hard for comfort—it hurt, though any touch from him would have been too much. “I’m pleased to meet you finally.”
That was how he’d play it? I glared at him. “Get your hand off me,” I rasped, yanking away my hand.
“Lily Slater!” my mother hissed at me, but Kyle seemed unaffected, merely smirking at me.
Oh, so everyone knew my name now?
“We’ve met,” I announced to my parents, refusing to say anything that could be construed as nice.
“Good!” My father clapped his hands. “That will make this easier?”
I highly doubted that. “Make what easier?”
“Kyle has agreed to marry you—”
Agreed to… “What?” I exclaimed.
“Oh yes, everything’s arranged,” my mother cut in. “Just a little more than a month. End of June. The invitations went out this morning. You have a fitting tomorrow afternoon.”
“No.”
“I can’t wait,” Kyle said with an oily smile. His eyes held a promise that terrified me to my core. He had plans for me, and I wouldn’t like them.
“No,” I repeated, but my mother ignored me, going on about the ballroom she’d reserved and the flowers.
“I’m not feeling well. I’m going up to my room,” I whispered, suddenly glad I hadn’t found the opportunity to tell my parents about the job. I had no doubt, if they knew, they’d do everything possible to block me.
“Well, if you wouldn’t wolf down your meal, you wouldn’t get a stomachache. It’s good we’ve arranged this marriage for you and you’ll be home for a bit so we can get your weight back under control. It looks like you chubbed up a bit these past few years.”
My lips parted slightly as I stared at her then I pressed my mouth closed to hold in my anger. My fingers curled into fists. Besides the fact I’d barely eaten, my weight was just fine, and I worked out. I’d gone from a girl’s body to a woman’s. Yeah, I was curvy, but there was no point arguing with her. So, I held my tongue.
“It’s okay, Mrs. Slater,” Kyle cut in, his smarmy tone churning my stomach in earnest now. “I think Lily is just fine. I can’t wait until she’s all mine. I’ll make sure she has a strict regimen to maintain her figure.”
Excuse me!What the hell?
I couldn’t take a second more of this. Perhaps, my parents shouldn’t have left me on my own so much, allowing me to grow up and apart from them. If they thought they were running my life, they thought wrong. Very wrong.
“If you’ll excuse me—”
“We will not,” Eleanora interrupted. “Sit down, Lily.”
Remaining firm, I gripped the back of the chair with one hand as I faced her. “With all due respect, mother,” which was none at all, “if I don’t leave now, I may vomit all over your pretty dining room, and I’m sure that wouldn’t be acceptable.”
“How dare you speak like that at the table and in front of our guest.”
“I’m sorry; I don’t know a code word for vomit. Perhaps, I’d be more to your genteel liking if I’d seen you more than a handful of days the past eight years. You could have taught me the correct terminology.”
Perhaps, you’d know what this asshole did to me—not that I’m at all confident you’d care.
I wanted to scream it out, accuse him, but I had enough experience with Martin and Eleanora to know what they’d do. They’d shove the blame for the incident on me. Boys were boys, and I’d probably incited it. That’s what they’d say anyway, taking his side and humiliating me. I wouldn’t give Kyle the satisfaction of that victory.
My father guffawed before covering it with a cough. I suspected that had more to do with me standing up to my mother than my actual words. “Lily,” he said sternly, masking his brief amusement. “I think you should go up to your room.”
Exactly where I wanted to be, anyway.
“Thank you. I will.” I gave him a nod, and while my mother sputtered, I left the dining room without a single glance at Kyle. Marry him? Like hell.
“She’s full of fire,” he commented behind me.
“If you say so,” was Eleanora’s disparaging reply. “She’s probably going to sulk because I called her fat.”
After that remark, I was thankfully out of earshot. As soon as I knew it was safe, I ran as fast as I could to my room, almost afraid Kyle would follow me. I immediately locked the door then leaned against it, glancing around the space that hadn’t changed much since I was entering junior high. Why should it? I was never here. And I wasn’t staying here now.
I made a beeline for my purse and pulled out my phone. I was expected at Blue Water Plantation in three weeks, having been given time to clear up my affairs here in the States, so to speak. I’d be mostly out of reach for mainland civilization once I was on the island, so the manager who’d handled my hiring had thought I might need time. I needed none. Especially now. Lucky for me, I knew the allotted time was just a courtesy, and they really wanted me there sooner.
I’d spoken with Mr. Rutherford’s assistant, David, several times since I’d been contracted. Taking a deep breath, I pulled up my email app and punched out a message to him, letting him know I could start sooner than expected, as soon as tomorrow, actually. I knew from speaking with Stacy, the other teacher, that they’d been short a second instructor since Christmas when the other teacher had eloped and moved to Iowa. Stacy had been doing double duty ever since.
After tossing the cell on my bed, I walked into my en suite bathroom to get ready for bed. I wasn’t leaving the room again tonight, so I might as well be comfortable. I’d barely washed my face when a notification dinged.
It was probably my best friend, Stella. Wait until I told her this crap with Kyle. She’d bust a gasket.
I tossed the washcloth onto the counter, reached for my moisturizer then smoothed it into my skin as I headed back to my phone. To my surprise, it was from David.
Dear Ms. Slater,
If you are available now, we can send you a ticket to travel tomorrow. We would be thrilled to have you start teaching next week. Please let me know, and I’ll book your flights.
Best,
David Westbrook
Blue Water Plantation
I blinked at the message. That was far better than I’d imagined. I immediately let him know I could leave the next day. Fifteen minutes later, I had a ticket departing the Gerald R. Ford Airport at midmorning. David’s accompanying note told me someone named “Silas” would meet me after my last flight then escort me by boat to the island. Whoever that was…
