Page 22 of Omega
And then, abruptly, she turned away, tossed her hair, and stalked away, almost angrily, through the surf.
I’m unable to emphasize how utterly alien that behavior is for Layla.
She’s the epitome of the independent woman—and not in the angry-feminist sort of way. She won’t bitch out a guy for opening a door for her, and if he offers to pay for a date, she might let him if she likes him. But she’s fiercely independent. She never asks for help. She’s not the sort to hold a guy’s arm or be handed down from a truck, not the type to engage in any kind of public touching. Around me, at home, when we shared an apartment, she might let me see her kiss her current boyfriend, but that was it. She’s not a hugger, not a cuddler, and certainly not a trail-her-hands-down-his-arms girl. And certainly not a gaze-with-rife-and-conflicted-emotion-into-his-eyes girl.
But yet that just happened.
WithHarris.
With Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome, Mr. Strong and Silent, Mr. Cool as a Cucumber in Any Situation, Mr. I Can Kill a Man Without Flinching.
I exchanged a glance with Roth as he lifted me out of the skiff.
“What the hell did I just see?” he whispered.
I could only shake my head. “Fuck if I know, babe.”
* * *
The house was incredible. Roth had arranged it, so of course it was. But…incrediblebarely describes it. It was only one floor, but it sprawled out to cover over fifteen thousand square feet, carefully crafted to make the most of the views, perched on a slight rise that looked out over the Caribbean, each room facing the water on one side and the forest on the other. The kitchen was the centerpiece, taking up the entire width of the building, connected in an open floor plan to a sitting room and a dining room. All four exterior walls of the building were folding glass doors that could be pushed open from corner to corner, making it totally open to the salt-scented breeze and the soothing sound of the surf in the distance. To the left and the right, walkways made of what looked to be reclaimed driftwood meandered away, leading to freestanding bedrooms each with anen suitebathroom—which included cleverly hidden outdoor showers. There were six bedrooms in total, three to the left of the kitchen and three to the right, arranged in a semi-circle around the main structure and connected by the same driftwood path to the kitchen, to each other, and to another large structure opposite the kitchen.
The secondary building held a movie theater, a gym, a wine cellar, and a small library. Each room occupied an outer quadrant, with another sitting room at the center. Every exterior wall of the entire home could be slid open from corner to corner, even the movie theater, which used glass that could be electronically tinted to block out the light so one could watch a movie during the day.
In the center of the property was a swimming pool lined on one side by a tiki-hut bar and lounge chairs on the other. The courtyard also held a fire pit surrounded by semi-circular couches, and an outdoor kitchen—a grill, a pizza oven, an induction range top, and a built-in under-the-counter refrigerator.
Roth took us all on a tour, pointing out all the various features. Even Layla seemed excited by the place. We ended the tour in the kitchen, sharing a bottle of white wine. “All the bedrooms are equal, in terms of size and amenities,” Roth said. “So it doesn’t matter which one you pick.”
“When you said you had a place in Turks and Caicos, I wasn’t expecting this,” I said. “Why haven’t we come here before?”
Roth lifted one shoulder. “It’s brand new; I had it custom built. This is the first time I’ve been here myself.”
I tilted my head. “But you said—”
“I did have a place in the islands, but I sold that several months ago,” he explained.
“Why?”
He glanced at Layla, and then Harris. “Would you excuse us?”
Harris put a hand—just three fingertips of his right hand—to Layla’s lower back, and subtly but effectively guided her out of the room.
When we were alone, Roth returned his attention to me and sighed. “Lots of reasons. First and most importantly, I was on record as the owner. I bought it during a time when I hadn’t heard from Vitaly in many, many years. I’d hoped he’d forgotten about me. I assumed he had, I guess, so I figured it was safe to own property in my own name. I sold it, knowing I’d never want to go there again, because he could easily find us there. When I built this place, I purchased the land and hired the contractors through a series of false corporations, which I dissolved after the construction was complete. It’s inaccessible except by water, and it’s owned by a company that can’t be traced back to me.”
There was something he wasn’t saying. “Roth.” My tone of voice was all I needed.
“My previous property in these islands was a getaway. It wasn’t a home, but more of a private resort, I guess you could say. When I needed time away from the chaos of Manhattan, I would retreat there.”
I read between the lines. “But you weren’t alone, is that what you are saying?”
He nodded. “Precisely. Not alone.”
I swirled wine around the bowl of my goblet. “Explain.”
“Why?” he demanded. “Surely you understand without needing a detailed explanation.”
“You know every last detail of my life, every guy I dated or slept with, absolutely everything. I, on the other hand, know little or nothing about your past, romantically speaking.”
He nodded, letting out a sigh of acquiescence. “True enough, I suppose. This requires more wine, however.” He reached under the island in the middle of the kitchen where there was a wine refrigerator, and withdrew another bottle of chilled white wine, opened it, and refilled both of our glasses. “The first thing you need to know is that I don’t have a romantic past. The only woman I would claim any sort of romantic attachment to would be Gina, and you know about her.”