Romance: North: (Hot New Adult Bad Boy Romance, Alpha Male Rock Star Rebel Romance) (Contemporary Mystery and Romantic Suspense Short Stories) by Jade Allen Page B
Authors: Jade Allen
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invitation was for someone else.”
“Was there a name on the card?”
“No, just a web address.”
The woman’s voice brightened, “In that case, it’s very much your card. This is part of a secret promotion Eden Resort is hosting prior to its official launch; I believe a few cards were distributed through random circulation."
Smart PR move…
Rayne could hear typing and clicking in the background. “You’re actually very lucky, Ms. Baker. I've just checked the reservation, and it seems that you have been assigned the Lotus Suite, one of the most expensive suites on the island. There’s yoga, massage and private dining included in your package, which… yes, you’re entitled to over $18,000 worth of value for a six day, seven night stay.”
“I’m sorry, wha t? Did you say an $18,000 stay ?”
“Yes.” The disembodied voice was practically beaming down the phone.
“Do I need to purchase anything for this?”
The woman laughed, “No, not at all. It’s an exclusive invitation. A bit like what travel agents get to review resorts.”
“So I am to review the resort in exchange for over $18,000 of value?”
“That’s the plan.”
Rayne sat, astounded by the opportunity that landed in her lap. “So, when do I leave?”
****
Rayne massaged her temples and smacked her lips together, desperate for a steward to provide her with a glass of water. She had been hauled out of bed at 4 am and taken by private car to a private airport where she had boarded...a private plane.
There were two other guests on the plane, though none had yet to say hello. The first she met was a man with stiff, swept back blonde hair, a gingham shirt and beige slacks. Despite the ungodly hour, he seemed preened and ready for a midday outing. The Tommy Hilfiger wannabee deemed Rayne worthy of just a small nod before staring pointedly out his window.
Okay, not to worry--he’s just one prick.
The second guest had arrived as Rayne was just tipping back the final contents of a fresh mimosa: a stunning woman with a magenta pixie-cut. The woman was swimming in furs, constantly peering over her sunglasses.
It was at this point that Rayne had to admit she felt underdressed. Her ensemble of dark-washed jeans, leather boots and layers of cotton jersey stood in another world. The magenta vixen had chosen to associate with the blonde bastard behind her.
The conversation between the two guests seemed to bubble along pleasantly enough, though they seemed to be discussing designer brands as though they were people. Then it dawned on Rayne that they actually did know the designers and they were talking about them.
The magazine, the fashionable woman; the ease she had walking in stilettos, who was that woman who was supposed to have this card? I’ve made a grave mistake…
Before Rayne could think of a surprise illness that would send her back home, there was an insistent tap on her shoulder. Turning, Rayne came face-to-face with the magenta pixie, a fixed smile emblazoned on her professionally made-up face.
“Hi there, I don’t think we’ve met. My name’s Billie Toms,” she held out her hand.
“Oh--hi, Billie. I’m Rayne Baker.”
“You’re not of the Baker House Fashion family, are you?” Billie’s eyes widened.
“No, I’m afraid not. I’m of the…” Rayne thought screw it “I belong to a prominent financial institute; unfortunately, my terms of agreement don’t allow me to mention the company’s name.” Where was this coming from?
Billie nodded in understanding; Rayne had obviously passed some internal test.
“So you’re here to review as well?”
“You could say that. I’m sure there are some other members of my team who would like to come along with their wives and girlfriends--or both.” Rayne smiled conspiratorially.
Billie smiled and sat back into her chair; the plane was readied for landing.
****
Rayne exited the plane into a blast of warm humid air and a vague scent of coconut oil
“Was there a name on the card?”
“No, just a web address.”
The woman’s voice brightened, “In that case, it’s very much your card. This is part of a secret promotion Eden Resort is hosting prior to its official launch; I believe a few cards were distributed through random circulation."
Smart PR move…
Rayne could hear typing and clicking in the background. “You’re actually very lucky, Ms. Baker. I've just checked the reservation, and it seems that you have been assigned the Lotus Suite, one of the most expensive suites on the island. There’s yoga, massage and private dining included in your package, which… yes, you’re entitled to over $18,000 worth of value for a six day, seven night stay.”
“I’m sorry, wha t? Did you say an $18,000 stay ?”
“Yes.” The disembodied voice was practically beaming down the phone.
“Do I need to purchase anything for this?”
The woman laughed, “No, not at all. It’s an exclusive invitation. A bit like what travel agents get to review resorts.”
“So I am to review the resort in exchange for over $18,000 of value?”
“That’s the plan.”
Rayne sat, astounded by the opportunity that landed in her lap. “So, when do I leave?”
****
Rayne massaged her temples and smacked her lips together, desperate for a steward to provide her with a glass of water. She had been hauled out of bed at 4 am and taken by private car to a private airport where she had boarded...a private plane.
There were two other guests on the plane, though none had yet to say hello. The first she met was a man with stiff, swept back blonde hair, a gingham shirt and beige slacks. Despite the ungodly hour, he seemed preened and ready for a midday outing. The Tommy Hilfiger wannabee deemed Rayne worthy of just a small nod before staring pointedly out his window.
Okay, not to worry--he’s just one prick.
The second guest had arrived as Rayne was just tipping back the final contents of a fresh mimosa: a stunning woman with a magenta pixie-cut. The woman was swimming in furs, constantly peering over her sunglasses.
It was at this point that Rayne had to admit she felt underdressed. Her ensemble of dark-washed jeans, leather boots and layers of cotton jersey stood in another world. The magenta vixen had chosen to associate with the blonde bastard behind her.
The conversation between the two guests seemed to bubble along pleasantly enough, though they seemed to be discussing designer brands as though they were people. Then it dawned on Rayne that they actually did know the designers and they were talking about them.
The magazine, the fashionable woman; the ease she had walking in stilettos, who was that woman who was supposed to have this card? I’ve made a grave mistake…
Before Rayne could think of a surprise illness that would send her back home, there was an insistent tap on her shoulder. Turning, Rayne came face-to-face with the magenta pixie, a fixed smile emblazoned on her professionally made-up face.
“Hi there, I don’t think we’ve met. My name’s Billie Toms,” she held out her hand.
“Oh--hi, Billie. I’m Rayne Baker.”
“You’re not of the Baker House Fashion family, are you?” Billie’s eyes widened.
“No, I’m afraid not. I’m of the…” Rayne thought screw it “I belong to a prominent financial institute; unfortunately, my terms of agreement don’t allow me to mention the company’s name.” Where was this coming from?
Billie nodded in understanding; Rayne had obviously passed some internal test.
“So you’re here to review as well?”
“You could say that. I’m sure there are some other members of my team who would like to come along with their wives and girlfriends--or both.” Rayne smiled conspiratorially.
Billie smiled and sat back into her chair; the plane was readied for landing.
****
Rayne exited the plane into a blast of warm humid air and a vague scent of coconut oil
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