Free Once Upon a Stormy Night by Zee Monodee

 
     
    Chapter One
     
     
    “You need a shag.”
    Lars Rutherford stifled a smile. He rolled his eyes and watched his Skype correspondent/boss/friend, Stellan Elriksen, do the same on his laptop screen. Behind Stellan, in the posh office of the Kensington flat, Magnus Trammell traipsed stark naked in a hangover haze. After dropping that one slurred line, he stumbled out of the office, probably in search of more booze to ease his hangover.
    “What’s he doing at your place at—” Lars peeked at his watch and figured the time difference, “—one p.m. on a Saturday afternoon? And how come he’s even awake at this time?”
    Stellan shrugged. “He hit the button for the wrong floor, as usual. Heard him trying to get in at ten this morning. He was so wasted, I let him crash here rather than take him up to his flat.”
    Magnus strolled back into the office, still unclothed and clutching a green Heineken bottle. Taking a long swallow, he perched on the back of the executive chair, peering over Stellan’s shoulder. “You’re both in need of a good shag. How the hell can you go for so long without a woman?”
    Lars chuckled, finding Magnus the dose of lightness both he and Stellan needed, the perfect merry complement to their posse. The three musketeers, their mothers called them. The women had grown up together in Sweden, gotten married around the same time, and even had sons within a month of one another. The boys had shared cribs, playpens, bedrooms, dorm rooms, and holidays between England and Sweden, for as long as they could remember.
    Their first thirty years had been filled with fun and parties, but Lars’ thoughts focused on the past five years, when they’d come into themselves as grown men. Stellan, a shipping magnate who’d recently taken over his father’s business. Lars his trusted right-hand man and second in command, while Magnus sailed on his family name and fortune to be known as one of the most famous playboys of the European jet-set society.
    “Don’t tell me there aren’t any women on that island of yours,” Magnus said.
    Lars exchanged a glance with Stellan. Their business meeting had come to a striking close—serious and Magnus mixed like oil and water.
    “There are,” Lars replied.
    “And?” Magnus prompted. “You’ve been there, what? Eight months now?”
    “Seven and a half.” And a long seven and a half months it had been, too. He’d been happy when Stellan asked him to take charge of the new division in Mauritius. Delighted to make his home for a while on the tiny island hailed as the Tiger of the Indian Ocean, even though he missed spending time with his friends. But he hadn’t realized that the culture there would also deprive him of the company of women.
    “Not even one hookup?” Magnus continued.
    Lars shrugged. For all Mauritius came across as a modern and thriving business center, its society still lay entrenched in the mores and norms of a traditional one. He encountered more society mamas intent on getting their daughters married than ladies who wanted a tryst. Not looking for love, or a permanent relationship, he found it safer to avoid the locals, who would only want to take him on a trip down the aisle.
    If the right woman came along, he’d reconsider. But he doubted he would find her here.
    Magnus put an arm on Stellan’s shoulder and leaned forward. Stellan shrugged him off and stood. After another swallow of beer, and appearing nonplussed, Magnus slid into the vacated chair and faced Lars with a smile on his face. “I know what you need.”
    “A shag. I know.” He leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. His freewheeling friend cooked up the most incongruous schemes; he looked forward to some entertainment.
    “Right. And I know just how to make it happen.”
    “He doesn’t need you to tweet to the party crowd in Mauritius he’s looking for a bed partner,” Stellan said on a sigh.
    “Piss off,” Magnus replied with a wave of his free hand.