Chapter Ten

Amadeo

Bending, I grab Zoe around the thighs and lift her over my shoulder.

"We're not hiking back now. Not when I want you so badly."

She laughs as I head toward the jungle. "Are you going to ravage me here?"

"No, as much as I'd like to have you here and now, the bugs are ridiculous and I refuse to end up with a mosquito bite on my dick."

"Then where are you taking me?"

"We're taking the helicopter."

"What?"

I stop, setting her down on her feet so I can pull out my phone. "Don't all billionaires have helicopters?" I smirk. "Confession. As soon as I found out Christian had one, I had to buy one too."

She swats me. "You did not." She looks around. "Is there even cell service out here?"

"Of course. It's my property, so I made sure."

Her eyes widen. "You own a waterfall?"

I kiss the shock off her lips. "Can anyone really own a waterfall?"

It's only a five-minute walk to the clearing where a helicopter sits on a huge concrete pad. There's a large hanger behind it where the chopper must normally be stored.

"Can you fly it?"

"Can Christian?"

She rolls her eyes and I give her ass a squeeze.

"Twitchy palms, Zoe."

"You have a psychiatrist on speed dial? I think you might have an obsession."

"I think I might too, but not with the books." My intense stare makes her shiver. "It's mostly for emergencies. The island doesn't have much in the way of emergency services and it seemed smart to invest in the chopper just in case, especially with so many options for daredevils around here."

"And don't forget all the rich old men who've indulged in fine scotch, cigars and caviars and have bad tickers." She taps her chest over her heart, cocking a brow.

"Fine, them too."

She laughs and I shake my head, smiling wide. "Get in the helicopter," I say, holding open the door. And then just for fun, I buckle her in like a control-freak billionaire.

Taking a quick photo of her smiling face, haloed by the headset, I start the chopper.

Her excitement is palpable as I give her a tour of the island and its beautiful mountains, rivers, and coastline.

When we're over the ocean, I point out a superpod of dolphins and a small group of pilot whales. She points out the shadows of several great hammerheads less than a hundred meters from the shore.

She looks at me wide-eyed and I put my hand on her knee, giving it a squeeze.

"Want to see our cliff?"

"Our cliff?"

I nod. "Yeah, I'm changing the name next week. Zomadeo's Cliff."

She rolls her eyes, but her smile is wide. I swing the chopper around and she points, wiggling in her seat.

"Is that it?"

"It is."

She makes a gesture of wiping her brow. "No sharks."

I point. "And that's our beach."

She frowns now. "Why are there people on it?"

"Because your great-grandmother likes to wear a thong and some of my guests are prudish assholes."

She looks closer. "That's my Gran-Gran!" I glance down where she's pointing, but quickly avert my eyes. Yup, that's her great-grandmother, topless on a lounger someone must have dragged over there for her.

"It is. Too bad she's hanging out with some of those land sharks."

With a mischievous glint in her eye, she replies, "If only we had some water balloons in here."

"Speaking of your Gran. I'm going to be staying off-site while she's here."

"Did she proposition you? I swear she doesn't mean it. She's just feisty." She chews her lip, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

"Other than to grab my ass in front of one of the other guests she thinks is hot, no. But I gave her my villa as part of our deal. She keeps all of her ‘fabulous' appropriately covered at the resort pool and she has the run of my villa and private beach."

"Good plan." She suddenly seems quiet, so I squeeze her knee again.

"What's wrong?"

She turns in her seat, as much as it allows and bites her lip. "You didn't want to stay with me?"

Now I swallow.

"It's okay. I know you're just my vacation Daddy." Her eyes shift to the ocean beneath us. "I just got out of a relationship and you're still dealing with your ex. It's not like I'm proposing to you."

She glances at me shyly, before looking at an inlet near the island harbor where hundreds of people dot the piers and sandy beach.

"You'll get no entanglements from me."

I should feel relief with her statement, only I don't. And suddenly swimming with those hammerheads we saw seems less dangerous than thinking about why I don't.

Am I, the king of casual, no-attachment sex, actually falling for Zoe Wayz, the epitome of messy and complicated?