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“The tallest peak there is called Te Manga,” Jared said. “It’s the highest point in the country—a little over six hundred meters high. The other peak nearby is Te Rua Manga. There’s a tall rock on the peak called the Needle. If you’re up for a hike, the view is impressive from either peak. If you’re lazy, you can buy some great pictures in the gift shops.”

Given Lexi’s earlier clarification on what constituted hiking, it was safe to say we’d never see those views except on a postcard. Lexi leaned forward in her seat, staring out the window. “Jared, what’s that building on the right?”

I followed Lexi’s gaze to a two-story modern building with lots of gleaming aluminum siding and large glass doors. It was entirely out of place among the rest of the single-story cinder block or concrete structures, most of which had flat or corrugated metal roofs.

“Oh, that’s our new police station,” Jared said. “It was just completed a year ago. It was funded with a boatload of Chinese money and is quite controversial around here.”

“Why is it controversial?” Lexi asked.

“Well, the Chinese have been giving the police department special training and lots of new equipment, including boats they can use to patrol the islands, bulletproof vests, radios, and, of course, the new police station. Some people are accusing them of trying to buy influence.”

“Why would the Chinese want to buy influence here?” Lexi asked. “Do they want to turn it into a special tourist destination? Or do you have valuable minerals they want?”

Jared shrugged. “Everyone is asking questions like that, and no one really knows the answers. We do have some minerals in the ocean around our islands, but they’re not especially rare and are hard to mine. Our biggest exports are pearls, pineapples, and bananas, and most of those go to New Zealand. It’s hard to see where China benefits from that.”

“Do you have any other industry?” I asked.

“In recent years, we have gotten into offshore banking. I don’t know much about it, but some nations are accusing us of being a tax haven for rich people. I’m not sure how that works, but apparently, it’s been bringing in good money for the country. But combined with the Chinese helping to support our police force, it’s making some people uncomfortable and wondering if what we’re doing is above board.”

We didn’t have anything to say to that, and there weren’t a lot more sights to see along the road, so we drove the rest of the way in silence with the windows down. Our resort was in the Muri Beach area on the southeast side of the island. We planned to stay here for a week and then take an hour’s flight north in a small plane to the island of Aitutaki, or what was known as the romantic island, for our second week.

Jared dropped us off at the resort check-in, and after we checked in, a bellman led us to a luxurious bungalow perched on the edge of a private beach. The second we walked in the door; I knew this was going to be the perfect spot for a quiet and relaxing honeymoon.

Light streamed in through the open windows and French doors, and gauzy white curtains fluttered in the breeze. Lexi immediately walked across the room to fling open the doors to a private veranda. The aquamarine water sparkled in the sun as the waves crested against the surrounding reef. The sand on the beach looked pristine. But it was the large, freestanding hot tub, set on the veranda and overlooking the ocean, that made me smile.

“Wow, this is spectacular,” Lexi said as I came up behind her, wrapping her in my arms.

“Better than even I expected,” I agreed.

“I’m guessing we’re going to get a lot of use from that hot tub.”

“I’m guessing you’re right,” I said.

She smiled, and I left her still admiring the view to check out the rest of our room. My gaze drifted to the expansive bed—a king-size masterpiece draped in airy white linens, the canopy above billowing like clouds. The steady easterly winds eliminated the need for air-conditioning, although the bungalow apparently had ceiling fans for the hottest days. The floor was made of a dark, rich wood, probably native to the island, and the lavish bathroom just off the main area was spacious. It had a roomy and sleek design, and the polished marble counters gleamed in the light. The double rain shower configuration and large glassed-in area with a bench promised relaxation and comfort.

A cozy sitting area was tucked into one side of the room. The space was intimate, with a sleek, modern television mounted on the wall. The room was clearly designed to feel like an extension of the outdoors, with a white sofa and teal pillows, inviting us to sink into their comfort. Local art adorned the walls, each piece telling the story of the island. A silver bucket with a bright teal bow—presumably to match the sofa pillows—and a bottle of champagne sat on the coffee table, along with a platter of local fruits, wrapped cheese, and crackers.

Lexi came in from the veranda and sat down on a corner of the bed. Her cheeks were pink from our excursions in Hawaii, her eyes aglow, her hair up in a messy ponytail. My heart stumbled in my chest. She was my everything. I’d never expected this level of happiness, and I still wasn’t convinced I deserved it.

“I need a nap,” she declared, sitting on the side of the bed and taking off her shoes. “That was a long flight from Hawaii.”

“It was shorter than the flight from Dulles,” I pointed out.

“It felt longer for some reason. Probably because we were so relaxed last night.”

“True.” I joined her on the bed and removed my shoes as well. “But it was a tiring flight. Nap and then dinner at the resort?”

“Nap, dinner at the resort, and then a long soak in the hot tub in the moonlight,” she suggested. “Alone. No paparazzi, no runaway pigs, no guys in tight red Hawaiian shirts trying to take our picture. Just you and me.”

“I can’t think of anything more perfect,” I said, meaning it with every fiber of my being. I tucked her body against mine as we set our heads on the pillow and closed our eyes. The breeze drifted over us, its softness carrying the smells of the ocean and beach. It reminded me of home in Italy, and I began to silently congratulate myself on finding this remote paradise.

As if she read my mind, she spoke. “Great choice on location, Slash. I think I’m really going to like it here.”

“Me, too,” I murmured. “We may have finally found the most isolated yet beautiful spot on Earth.”

“And no sight of my black cloud,” she said. “Except for the pig incident, and I’m not sure we can blame that on the cloud.”

“I’m not blaming the cloud for that,” I agreed. “And to think I was worried about a volcano. But if a runaway pig is the worst that happens on our honeymoon, I’ll be satisfied.”