She picks up a beautiful wide wide-brimmed sun hat. “It’s made from dried reeds we picked around the river that runs through the island near the waterfall. My granddaughter weaves it for me,” she tells me. “Your cheeks are already too red from the sun.”
I gingerly touch my cheeks, blushing darker. “I did put sunscreen on, but I swam a few times already, so it must have washed off,” I explain.
“This wild sun is hotter than the city sun; you must be careful.” She places the hat on my head and turns me toward a small mirror hanging on the wall. The hat looks super cute. It’s really gorgeous. I’d love to have it, but I can’t.
“I’m so sorry, I don’t have any money on me to buy it from you,” I explain, handing it back to her.
“Don’t worry, darling, it is yours. The island welcomes you,” she tells me, placing it on my head again.
“Are you sure? I can come back tomorrow and pay you. How much is it?” I ask, my heart warming at her kindness.
“It is yours. As I said, the island welcomes you. I recognize a beautiful soul when I see one,” she says. “You are like sunshine. Glowing and bright.”
The grin that spreads across my face is filled with humble gratitude. I reach out and hug her, which seems to take her by surprise for a second, before she lifts her arms and hugs me in return.
“I’m Stef,” I say.
“I am Lillia,” she smiles.
After meeting the woman, I continued exploring the village. A man cooking fish outside his house offers me a piece to taste. It tastes of the ocean—rich, fresh, and salty, and it leaves an oily residue on my tongue and makes my stomach growl for more.
I continue exploring until I walk straight into Marlen.
My heart sinks in fright, and I wince, waiting to be scolded for leaving and being gone for so long.
“Hi, island girl,” he smiles, reaching up and touching the brim of my new sunhat. “This is really cute.”
“The lady gave it to me. She was so kind,” I explain, surprised by his friendliness.
“You’ll find the whole village is generous like that. It’s a true community. People share and help each other without a moment’s hesitation.”
My tummy growls loudly, and I blush, placing my hand over it. “Sorry, I haven’t eaten yet,” I say, horrified.
He chuckles, “Come on, there’s a place here in the village that you’ll love.”
We sit on a blanket in front of a low wooden table, filled with flame-grilled fish and rice and vegetables grown on the island. The food is magnificent. The view is breathtaking, and to my surprise, I’m having a lot of fun with Marlen.
He laughs and reaches over to pull another piece of fish loose, using his fingers. “The first time I met Mikhail, he convinced me to try sea urchin. It’s not something I recommend.”
The restaurant owner, who is also the chef and our waiter, laughs loudly. “You pulled a face like a child,” he calls out, overhearing our conversation.
I laugh loudly too, the mango and coconut cocktail going to my head a little.
Marlen tells me lots of stories about the island and the people here. He speaks as though they are part of his family, too, as though he has a deep fondness for them and this place.
I watch him with fascination. His body is relaxed, his face is open and welcoming. He laughs freely and doesn’t look guarded at all. This isn’t the same man who walks around the mansion back home. This man is kind, happy, and warm.
Over the next few days, Marlen and I explore more of the island together. He takes me hiking to the waterfall. We swim in the much colder water that comes from the rocks. The more timeI spend with him, the harder it is for me to see him as the enemy. It’s confusing because I’m enjoying myself more than I should be.
At dinner in a colorful restaurant in the village that night, we’re laughing again, and we’re sitting too close together. Our legs are touching beneath the table, and I’m leaning toward him.
In this moment, I realize something dangerous. My attraction to him is getting stronger. Day by day, I’m being pulled toward him, physically and emotionally, and I simply can’t allow it. He’s already made it clear that I have no effect on him. The memory of his words still stings me when I think of them the night we kissed. Rejection. Raw and brutal.
My heart constricts when I realize how reckless I’ve been. I’m letting myself fall for a man who kidnapped me and is holding me prisoner. None of this is real. This is all… this is…
“I’m ready to go home,” I say, standing up in a hurry, overwhelmed by my emotions.
“Oh, but you didn’t finish your dinner yet,” he gestures over the calamari steak and coconut salad.
