Emerald Island: A Billionaire Bedroom Romance

Chapter 7

Sophie awoke to the sounds of quiet music somewhere in the distance. Classical. Maybe cello? That was strange.

The light filtering into the bedroom was bright. She must have overslept. She'd have to dash to the store to open it in time. She hoped she hadn't missed any early morning shoppers. She sat up and gasped in pain. Her head. She laid back down and slowly started to realize she wasn't in Los Angeles.

No, she was on Emerald Island. Wasn't she?

But not in her villa. In fact, nowhere she had ever seen before. Soft silk sheets in a dark gray, lush pillows, an enormous mattress.

She had gone swimming and the tide had dragged her away. She must have hit her head on the rock. But how was she here? And where was here, anyway?

Looking past the bed, she saw floor-to-ceiling windows and gauzy curtains filtering the light. Gleaming hardwood floors. Large framed canvases on the walls featured modern art with appealing splashes of color. This certainly didn't look like the island clinic, though she supposed you never knew at a place like Emerald Island.

Sliding out of bed, she realized she was naked. Of course: she had left her swimsuit and sundress on the beach. She realized in embarrassment that whoever had brought her here must have carried her naked body for quite some distance.

Looking around, she saw an open door leading to what looked like a door. Hanging on a hook was a grey silk robe. Slipping it on and tying the clasp, she tried the other door and found herself in a large open airy space. The room was dominated by more floor-to-ceiling windows featuring a breathtaking view of a cliff with beach and ocean just below. Sitting on a couch looking out the window was a man. Even though his back was to her, she could tell by his slightly wild head of chestnut hair and broad shoulders that it was the caretaker.

She coughed to alert him of her presence.

He turned and smiled. "Awake? How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I think. My head hurts," she was both happy and confused to see him being so pleasant. She had gotten used to his hostility, and the change was welcome, but slightly disarming.

"That's to be expected. You got into quite the scuffle with that rock."

"That's what I figured," she said. "I guess I should thank you, by the way. For saving my life."

He smiled again. It was a handsome smile, all gleaming white teeth and roguish dimples. "All in a day's work. Figured it might ruin your vacation if you drowned."

She laughed. "Yeah, that wasn't really on my vacation bucket list."

She felt his eyes on her, and suddenly felt self-conscious in the skimpy robe. The silk felt good against her thighs, but it was reeling. She tightened the strap again, hoping she wasn't showing too much cleavage.

"So," she said, crossing her arms. "What is this? A special rehab spot for nearly drowned guests?"

"Something like that," he said. "It's my house."

She tried not to look too surprised. "Your house? Caretaker must be a pretty sweet gig."

"Oh," he said, and looked serious for a moment. "Right." He looked away for a moment, considering. She hoped she hadn't offended him.

"I guess I should tell you," he said. "I'm not exactly a caretaker. I mean, I am, but... I'm also the owner."

"Of this house."

"Of the island."

She looked at him for a moment, not comprehending. "But you specifically told me you weren't Erik DeWolf's son!"