Free The Secret Heiress by Judith Gould

Frans. The plane . . . the party.”
    He pulled her close again. “We have time,” he said with a smile. He began kissing her passionately again, and Bianca gave herself up to the moment completely, to him, to the joy that they’d found together. For one of the few times in her life, she felt that she was completely alive.
    We’ll get to the plane on time, she thought, and if we don’t . . . ? This is worth it. This is worth anything.

Chapter Five

    St. Barthélemy, the Leeward Islands
     
     
     
     
    P aradise Rock, the entire seaside resort, had been taken over for Nikoletta Papadaki’s birthday party. PPHL owned the resort, and it had always been totally booked for the months of January and February. But over the protests of several executives, Niki forced the manager to cancel all reservations that had been made for the week of her birthday. For her twenty-first-birthday party she was calling the shots, and nobody else was going to have a say.
    “Poseidon’s Orgy” was the theme engraved on the invitations that went out to guests from around the world, and they had been instructed to costume themselves appropriately. Around one of the swimming pools the international-society set talked, drank, and danced, more than a few of them dressed in “fish scale” bikinis or thongs and variations on sea-related costumes. A young heiress from France was attired in a revealing outfit consisting of cleverly placed seashells and little else, and her Argentinean boyfriend, not to be outdone, wore nothing but a cascade of Capiz shells artfully applied to the front of a thong. Like many of the other guests, they had devoted hours to ensure that their costumes were made and fitted in time.
    For their enjoyment, mermaids and mermen—magnificently built young strippers who had been flown in for the party—swam, posed, and cavorted among synchronized fountains that leaped into the air. Blue and green lights accompanied the airy patterns created by the jets of water, adding to the dazzling display. In the background, the trance mixer DJ Scary, who had come from Paris for the occasion, pumped out the music. It was a crowd he knew well, having played at parties around the globe for varying mixtures of the same set and their friends and hangers-on.
    At a distance from the noise of the party three of the few older party guests stood in a group, chatting and drinking. Their faces wore smiles, but they weren’t happy.
    “Paradise Rock is almost unrecognizable,” Angelo Coveri muttered after taking a sip of his red-wine spritzer. His gaze swept the scene. “The entire resort looks blue and green.”
    “As well it should,” countered Sugar Rosebury dryly. “Especially considering the millions of company dollars that have been squandered.”
    “What are you three talking about?” Honor Hurlstone asked as she joined them. “You look like the three witches in Macbeth conjuring some sort of plot.”
    Sugar laughed, and the women exchanged air kisses. “You look heavenly,” Sugar exclaimed. “I love your dress.”
    “Thank you,” Honor said. “I thought it was appropriate. This embroidery looks like seaweed or something, doesn’t it?”
    “Hmm,” Sugar said, fingering the delicate silk between her fingers. “And coral. It’s absolutely gorgeous.”
    “So is yours,” Honor said, “but then you’re always dressed like a million dollars.”
    “You both look beautiful,” Yves Carre said.
    “Have you seen Adrian?” Angelo Coveri asked. Adrian Single was the New York CEO of PPHL and in charge of North and South American operations and had been Nikos Papadaki’s most trusted ally. He was the glue that held together the board of the gigantic corporation, but perhaps most importantly, he had always been the only person who could influence Nikoletta since her father’s death.
    “He’s right behind me,” Honor replied.
    Approaching them, Adrian took a glass of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray. “Is everyone