[Invitation to Eden 20.0] The Island of Eden Read Free Page A

seat behind her, though the words have no heat. She replies, and I have to turn back to catch what she says.
    “You’re not a beast, you know. You should remember that before you forget you’re just acting.” Her tone is matter of fact, like she couldn’t care less one way or the other. It’s a refreshing change, after leaving people who were never-ending founts of demands, of needs.
    But she’s wrong. I built my empire on charm and sophistication. But now... with my face so scarred...
    “I’m not acting. And you don’t know as much as you think, so stop talking and fly the damn plane.”
    There hardly seems to be a point in trying to be something more than what I’ve become.
    ***
    I wake up when my ears start popping. The roll of my stomach tells me that we’re descending, and I prop myself up in my small seat, surprised that I slept at all.
    It couldn’t have been more than two hours, but it’s more sleep than I’ve had at once since the accident.
    “Wakey, wakey, eggs and bacey.” Joely calls back from the cockpit. Flying the plane has made her downright perky, and it’s fascinating to watch the absorption play over her face as she expertly maneuvers the small aircraft down through the air. It’s because of this that I don’t look out the window until the plane has coasted to a stop.
    Suddenly desperate to experience it up close rather than through a pane of glass, I pry open the door. Toeing off the hand-tooled leather sandals that a former assistant purchased for me for some warm weather vacation in a previous life, I jump into the water feet first, not knowing or caring how deep it is.
    It’s warm, like a tepid bath, and wets my jeans to the knees as I shield my eyes and take a first look at my island.
    My sanctuary.
    It’s small enough that I can see how far the land extends, even from this close up. And yet there are swathes of sparkling white sand, rocks that slopes upward into a small mountain, the thick canopy of a verdant forest.
    Paradise.
    The only sound is that of the water rippling in the warm air, and the quiet tick of the plane’s engine as it cools off.
    The sun is low in the sky—not long until sunset. The heat is intense, a damp kiss—reminding me of Greece in a way that New York never did.
    As I stand there, momentarily overcome, I feel that heat start to melt the ice inside of me.
    “I’ll help you get your things to shore.” Joely breaks the silence by plopping into the water behind me. She’s rolled the legs of her overalls up above her knees, and she has my new knapsack strapped to her back, and a cardboard box in her thin arms.
    “You’re far too small to be lugging around things like that,” I snap and take hold of the box. I’m more irritated that she’s interrupted my moment of peace than I am that she’s carrying things. “I can manage it.”
    She holds firm to the box. I’m reminded of some of my childhood friends, and the way they would glare at their irritating siblings.
    “Joely. Let go.” I can’t even remember the last time someone so blatantly ignored my orders. It’s... weird.
    “You’re awfully bossy,” she comments, relinquishing her grip on the box so suddenly that I stumble backward a step. “Used to being in charge, I’m guessing. It’s not your most attractive quality, big guy.”
    “You have no idea,” I murmur as I adjust the box in my arms. I stand six foot two, and I have a lot of muscle, but damn it, this thing is heavy. She has no business trying to lift it, let alone haul it to shore.
    “So is it a rich thing or a Greek thing?” Hooking her hands in the straps of the bag on her back, Joely starts to wade to shore. I resist the urge to dunk her in the water—someone needs to teach her a little bit of respect—and instead decide to shock her.
    “Actually it’s a sexual dominance thing.” As I speak I think that this wide-eyed sprite probably doesn’t even know what that means.
    But she just shrugs, much the same way as