Free Once Upon a Stormy Night by Zee Monodee Page B

with joyous laughter while their parents tried to keep up with them. Lars smiled. He liked this island, liked the courtesy and general good manners of the people.
    His tall, Viking build, blond hair, and tailored business attire immediately placed him as a foreigner. Not many men, not even the executives, wore suits here. He stood out even next to the white inhabitants, something about him screaming expatriate from a mile away.
    If the women he met in his business and social circles weren’t intent on getting a big diamond out of him, life would have been perfect.
    Lars took in a deep, salt-filled breath as he emerged on the marina, near the cinemas with the paintings of retro actors on its walls, and the two-story, colonial stone edifice of the Blue Penny Museum. He headed toward his Athena 38 at the far end of the pier, the thirty-nine-foot-long catamaran the only vessel still docked today. Good weather, a mild breeze and no clouds, made it the perfect time to take an afternoon sail before the cyclone season kicked in with full force in December, a few weeks away.
    But even the anticipation of a trip on the clear blue waters of the Mauritian lagoon failed to lift him up, and unbidden, his thoughts went back to Magnus’ words.
    Bloody hell —he did need a shag, and if one came along without the probability his one-night partner would drag him down the aisle, he’d take it.
     
    ***
     
    What on earth was I thinking ?
    The question rolled forth and ebbed like a giant tsunami wave, gathered force then hurtled itself against Simmi Moyer’s head.
    The answer clattered inside her brain with even more strength—she was bent on escaping her mother’s recriminations. The long, sideways glances from the old goats she called “Auntie” at every wedding, funeral, gathering, or party in their family. The whispers of the younger crowd who labeled her a dried-up, frigid, bitch—the Ice Dragon.
    At thirty-three, it didn’t matter if she had already reached the post of Vice-President, Legal Affairs, of the biggest conglomerate on the island. That she had scores of people working under her authority. That she closed deals day in, day out with efficiency, always making her company emerge the winner. Or that she earned a salary of over two hundred seventy-five thousand rupees every month when the average annual household income in Mauritius hovered around four hundred thousand rupees.
    No—Simmi remained unmarried and childless, and nothing else mattered. Worse, she didn’t even have any prospects for matrimony. Men were wary of her because of her job status, women hated her for achieving so much so young, and society mamas ticked down her biological clock loudly. They looked for the mothers of their future grandchildren, not for their sons’ happiness with a well-suited woman.
    In less than a month, on December thirty-first, she would turn thirty-four. On a whim, she’d decided to celebrate and not give a damn about society or her mother. She’d booked a trip to France and bitten the bullet—she had contacted Madame Evangeline’s 1Night Stand and placed a request. She’d figured Madame Eve would hook her up with someone in Paris, but she’d been wrong. The woman had found someone for her right on the island.
    As she stepped out of the thatched-roof reception area of the Mauritian branch of Castillo Resorts and Hotels on the rugged southern coast of the island, a gust of wind propelled her toward the waiting golf cart. Her villa stood at the far end of the property. Secluded and private—exactly what one expected for a one-night tryst.
    Heat crept up her body and stung her cheeks. She lowered her head so her driver wouldn’t see the shame turn her pale complexion crimson. She’d managed to hold her dignity intact at the reception desk, despite her certainty the front office clerks knew her purpose for visiting the resort. She’d debated whether to wear a disguise, but since Madame Eve had signed her up under her real