A man stepped forward as they disembarked, bowing slightly.
“Mr. Blackwood. Welcome.”
Rhys inclined his head with effortless entitlement. “Mr. Álvarez doesn’t greet his guests himself?”
“He’s waiting above, sir.”
“Very well,” he murmured as he strode down the dock. Over his shoulder, he called. “Come along, Camille. Don’t dawdle.”
A steward offered his arm because she’d been abandoned. “Allow me, miss. The deck boards can be slick.”
She lost her escort at the stone steps and climbed alone, Rhys and his long stride having left her far behind. It was deliberate and part of his role. He didn’t cater to his property. She was expected to follow along, like a good pet.
She tried not to dwell on that, savoring the scent of jasmine in the air and her few moments alone, which she doubted would be many on the island.
Gaby arrived at the top slightly winded, where Rhys waited, not for her, but to greet Álvarez, who swept down a rock path from the main house, flanked by men the size of Leland and Mateo. She glanced back, reminded of their bodyguards. They’d been on the boat with them but had disappeared once it docked.
“Lucien,” Álvarez said warmly, as though greeting an old friend. “It seems meeting socially has become a habit for us.” Like a game show model, his sweeping gesture encompassed the grounds and the three-story mansion behind him. “What do you think of my little island?”
“Impressive,” Rhys murmured. “And away from crowds and prying eyes. I’m envious.”
“Mmm, it is my own little world,” he said, smug satisfaction heavy in his tone. “But for all its beauty, the best part is… I make all the rules.” He turned. “Come. Let me show you to the main house.”
They were led through open-air corridors where sunlight filtered through carved stone and trailing greenery. Gaby noticed how the staff paused in their duties to bow as he passed, like he was the most powerful man in their orbit, but royal to boot. When he stopped and gave a housemaid directions about the placement of a vase filled with striking red-and-gold long-stemmed blooms, she could have sworn she said, “Yes, Majesty,” when she hurried to obey.
Startled, Gaby inhaled sharply.
Rhys cleared his throat to cover, commenting, “Those are stunning. What are they?”
“I’m thrilled you asked. Exotic flora is another little hobby of mine. I employ a botanist and have a greenhouse on the island.”
“Are these native?”
“They are now,” he said with a chuckle. “Gloriosa superba,” he announced, full of self-importance. “In layman’s terms, flame lilies. They are a work of art—intricate, hypnotic, and as beautiful as they are toxic.”
A perfect metaphor for the island.
“You’ve come at a most fortuitous time,” Álvarez said, smiling as he moved up the walkway. “I have many surprises prepared for a lover of beauty and fine art.” His eyes settled onGaby—cool, assessing, making her skin crawl. “Your muse will fit right in.”
Dread pooled in her stomach as she tried to imagine what twisted entertainments he had planned.
“We’ll tour my collection at length when all my guests arrive, but just for you, Lucien, I thought you might enjoy a private sneak preview ofLa Caduta.”
Rhys’s interest was immediate, controlled. “I would. Thank you. I’ve looked forward to seeingTentazioneagain since losing it at the auction.”
Álvarez’s smile widened, unapologetically gloating. “Some collectors cling too tightly to what should be released.”
He didn’t take the bait. “Some works belong with those who understand them.”
“It’s uncanny how much we think alike, my friend.”
Gaby didn’t look to see his reaction, but she was certain Rhys concealed his disgust at Álvarez’s attempt at flattery.
They passed through a stone portico into an expansive foyer. Paintings lined the walls, and statuary nestled in recessed niches, each individually lit to its best advantage. Gaby wasn’t an expert, but even she recognized a few pieces, or at least the styles they mimicked.
A storm-dark seascape that looked like a Turner. A portrait with the unmistakable brushwork of a Sargent. A still life so vivid it could have been a Dutch master, all gleaming fruit and shadowed silver. Cari and Simone would have lost their minds in here except for all the gaudy gold frames.
Still, the room was all about money. The collection alone could have fed a small country for months, maybe years. And this wasn’t even the main attraction.
