won’t accept any excuses. Back my brother and you’re dead to me.”
“I did try to warn them, Mr. Sinclair.”
“Don’t call me that. Not while my brother holds the same title.” I raked a hand through my hair, my mind already on a plane going to defend my dominion from infidels. “Give me twenty-four hours. I’ll make my brother realise the error of his ways.”
Vengeance would never be so sweet.
I hung up and instantly called another number while striding toward the bathroom. The open air space didn’t look out into a private garden like most of the villas along the ocean did. My personal home didn’t share the beach with goddesses. Instead, it was tucked away in the fronds of huge palms, jackfruit trees, and lime bushes. Heliconias and orchids added colour, enticing birds and butterflies. But it wasn’t the flora and fauna that ensured I’d built my villa inland instead of coastal…it’d been the waterfall.
Nirvana splashed constant and majestic, the perfect backdrop to my shower. Most of the time, I just bathed in the basin formed by the splashing falls. This morning, however, I had no time to waste.
Cal answered on the third ring. His voice catching with a sleep-filled croak. “Sir?”
“Book me a flight to San Diego. Leaving immediately. Charter a flight from Jakarta if you need.”
“What? Right now?”
“Yes, right now.” I rolled my eyes. “Do it.”
“Why are you going to Sinclair and Sinclair? Just communicate online like—”
“Cal, we’re friends, so I permit such liberties, but don’t mistake our dynamics when I ask you to do something. I need a flight. So book me a goddamn flight.”
“It’s because we’re friends that I’m asking.” His voice hardened. “The only reason you’d be leaving is if your brother—”
“For fuck’s sake, I’ll handle it.”
“Ah, shit. Drake’s being a cunt again.” He didn’t ask it as a question. Just a statement, followed by his unwavering loyalty. “I’m going with you.”
“Like fuck you are.” Throwing my toothbrush and other toiletries into a bag, I quickly stormed to my walk-in wardrobe and tossed shirts, shoes, and suits onto the rattan chaise lounge in the centre, working out what I’d need.
Something that said ‘I’m done with your bullshit.’
Something that screamed cold-hearted murder and could hide bloodstains. Lots of bloodstains.
“Last time you had a run-in with Drake, you—”
“It won’t happen again. I’m just going for a friendly chat.”
“Bullshit.”
“You’re staying here.”
“Not if you’re going.”
“I need you to run Euphoria. To welcome the guests. To keep the goddesses safe.”
To keep Eleanor from other men. To protect her. To keep her on my shores.
“I’ll get Arbi to do that. He’s aware of the requirements of this place. I trust him.”
“I don’t.” I zipped up the army green duffel, uncaring that priceless suits were scrunched and stuffed in its depths. “You’re staying. I’m leaving. Call the pilots. I want to be airborne in thirty minutes.”
* * * * *
My fingertips pressed against the helicopter’s windows as the sky traded smoky dimness for coral spiels of dawn. Soft coral deepened to glowing scarlet, quickly losing its crimson in favour of golden sun.
We descended from sky to tarmac, landing at the congested airport of Jakarta.
Cal had arranged a private plane to get me to Manila, Philippines, before connecting with a first-class fare to Los Angeles and another private flight to San Diego. A diabolical mess of a journey.
I didn’t like visiting overpopulated cities. However, my other reason for not travelling much these days was it took so fucking long. Next thing I’d look at improving on would be air transportation.
There had to be a better way.
A faster way.
A teleport would be best.
It’d popped into my head as a joke but so had VR to start with. I’d had a kinky dream about a man stepping into a chamber where he could become anything he wanted and fuck whoever he desired.
That fantasy had become a reality.
Perhaps teleporting remained impossible, but it wouldn’t hurt to investigate other outlandish possibilities.
Unbuckling the five-point harness, I waited for the pilot to slide the fuselage open before hopping onto the already steaming tarmac. The sun had barely risen, yet the temperature on the black ground surrounding the hangars and airstrip pumped out heat.
I’d miss the mugginess—the tropical warmth that acted like a physical entity instead of an unseen element.
“This way, sir.” The co-pilot beckoned me to follow him. We didn’t have far to walk from one landing pad to another where a sleek silver jet waited.
I nodded in thanks and climbed the steps into the cream leather, chocolate piped