It was a temple of sensuality.
The bathtub—if one could call it that—was a deep, square mini-pool in the center of the room. Sunken into black stone, steam rose from its surface, and flower petals floated along the top.
My. My.
To the right was a glass shower built for two. Rainfall spouts. Jets on every wall. A bench.
To the left was a vanity area with gold-rimmed mirrors, drawers filled with fresh products, brushes, skincare items.
There were robes.
Fluffy and heavy.
Towels folded in perfect thirds.
A dish of chocolates rested beside a carafe of cold water and a glass.
This is. . .different. Like. . .pure luxury. The very definition of a soft life.
Everything had been prepared for my stay on the island.
Everything had been thought through.
Pleasure.
Power.
Beauty.
I turned slowly, heat blooming in my belly and behind my ribs.
“And that is the end of the tour.” Sako gave me a final bow. “Please let me know if you will need anything else. I am always close by.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh. I almost forgot. Your friend, Mr. Patterson said that you would need a hair braiding specialist flown to the island. Are there any particular ones you already work with?”
“Uh. . .” I tried not to laugh. “Zo said I needed someone to braid my hair?”
“Yes. He mentioned the beach and ocean, saying you wouldn’t get in the water unless you had your hair braided.”
I shook my head. “Yeah. But. . .it’s not like we’re going to be on the island for a long time.”
Sako’s expression turned grim. “We may. . .”
Oh. . .fuck. He’s right. We might be here for a long time. . .
I swallowed. “Okay. Better safe than sorry. Yes. I have a specialist I work with, but she’s in New York.”
“We can fly her in.”
“Oh no, that’s not necessary.”
“That is fine. We will get her.”
I blinked. “You want to fly out my stylist from Brooklyn?”
Sako nodded, dead serious. “Yes. We will go to her and ensure she is in full comfort on the way here. First-class flight. Luxury villa. Masseuse. Personal chef.”
