Paradise Found Read Free Page B

tile roof of the main building was of colonial Indian design. The curve of the archways, metal railings and mosaic tile along with the lush landscaping of towering palms and lacy ferns lent it exotic flair. Daemon drove under the porte-cochere and parked.
    He hopped out the car and walked over to the passenger door, opening it. He held out his hand and Victoria grasped it, alighting from the car. For a moment she felt special, as if Daemon could change the atmosphere.
    A Hindi doorman attired in crisp white tunic and slacks with a turban wrapped about his head, approached. Daemon tossed the car keys and the man caught them with a nod and a smile.
    “I didn’t know pilots had so much clout,” Victoria said, surprised, as she followed Daemon into the open lobby.
    “Apparently, you just don’t know pilots,” Daemon replied with a wink.
    She definitely didn’t know anything about Daemon Wells. As they strolled through the lobby with its ornately carved reception desk, fine rattan furnishings with silk cushions and pillows, scattered Indian rugs, brass and ceramic objects d’art, swirling ceiling fans, mosaic tiled floor and squawking parrots, the resort staff stood at attention. Each uniformed man and woman nodded and smiled in acknowledgement. She had dated some very wealthy men who were not treated in as high regard. Why was Daemon treated like a dignitary?
    Daemon led her through the main lobby and into an attached dining room. The hostess smiled, and without a word, grabbed two menus, and escorted them to a round table set outside on a private railed balcony with an unobstructed view of the ocean.
    Victoria had never been to this side, the exclusive side, of Beau Vallon beach. Though mid-day, this stretch of beach was deserted with glistening sand and crystal waves undulating to shore. Not one person was sunbathing or strolling or participating in water sports and no raucous laughter or animated voices to interrupt. Funny, she had to return to the Islands to be treated to quiet privilege. Yet, her mother was still hired help. A sense of guilt washed over her. Daemon pulled out a chair and after she sat, he chose a chair across from her.
    “I prefer the seclusion of this spot, away from all the tourists and their noise. To really experience the Seychelles, one must be immersed in the beauty of nature,”
    Daemon said, a distant look in his eyes.
    “You not only speak like a native, you think like one.” Victoria met his gaze.
    “Sometimes I think one has to experience the world in order to appreciate a place like this. Life, especially in the States, is so hurried and stressful in comparison to the solace found here. Don’t you agree?” Daemon asked.
    Victoria squirmed in her seat, uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. On one hand, she had to agree. After all, slowing down was part of her reason for returning home. Yet, here she was planning to commercialize on it. The tug between doing right for herself and doing right for her fellow natives was strong. She came home to prove herself as a success both personally and professionally. Was she willing to pay the price for it was another story?
    “There is a lot to be said for both ways of life,” she decided to answer.
    “So tell me, what made you return home?”
    She smiled. “I agreed to a drink, not an interrogation.”
    “Okay.” He raised his hand and an elegant Hindi woman in a sapphire sari appeared at their table. Turning to Victoria, Daemon asked, “What would you like to drink?”
    “A Seybrew.”
    The waitress wrinkled her brow as the request. Of course, it would seem strange to order an ordinary island brewed beer in a five-star resort. The local beer was just another one of those strange things Victoria had missed while away.
    “I … I’ll have the same,” Daemon added as the waitress shook her head upon leaving.
    Victoria shrugged. “What can I say? I had a taste for a beer.”
    “No problem. You just keep adding to your