Free [Invitation to Eden 20.0] The Island of Eden by Lauren Hawkeye Page A

too bad. I will never call him Master.
    “Thank you for your hospitality, but just so you know, it won’t stop me from asking questions about you.”
    “You are free to ask whatever you want.  It does not mean you will get the answers you are looking for.”  There’s challenge in his smile and then he’s out the door, shutting it behind him.
    I can’t hold back the grin. I may not want a Master, but men who let me push them around don’t do much for me, either. Being challenged? It gets to me in a big way.
    I wander into the adjacent bathroom. My eyes widen at the giant soaker tub. Oh, hell yes! Even my fancy apartment in Miami doesn’t have one of these. I might as well take advantage of the facilities. It would be downright rude not to, so I twist the taps until lovely steaming water comes spilling out—I’ve been too occupied to realize how cold I am, down to the bone.
    Snooping through the cupboards yields bubble bath scented with, yes, lilies. It makes me smile as I pour a couple capfuls in and start peeling off my clothing.
    “Oh Lord,” I groan as I sink into the hot, sweet smelling water. Once I am submerged to my chin, I close my eyes and rest my head against the back.
    Wallowing for a minute is amazing. A treat after almost, you know, dying . But I need to organize my game plan to get the goods on Theo, aka Master of all. He’s a man with plenty of wealth and power, and experience tells me that, because of that, there have to be some nasty little secrets under all that manly charm and gloss.
    No one is as virtuous as he seems—case in point, his sexy-time visits to BDSM clubs. But that’s not his secret, I’m sure of it. He’s got something else, something that put some shadows in his eyes, and I’m going to find out what it is.
    And then? Then I’m going to write the best expose on this place and my father is going to beg me to stay on at the magazine. Which I won’t do. No, I’ll go someplace that will appreciate me.
    Though hopefully he’ll forgive me for losing his boat.
    The thought of spilling the secrets that this man so clearly wants to keep hidden gives me a momentary pang, but I push it back. I’ve made no secret of what I’m doing here, after all. It’s not like I’m lying.
    Once I’m done the heavenly bath, I wrap myself up in a fluffy white robe, pull my hair back since there’s no getting a comb through that nest without a deep conditioning treatment, then go out into the bedroom.
    There’s a dress laid out on the bed. At least, I think it’s a dress. It might be a nightie, it’s so skimpy, with spaghetti straps and a low neckline and a high hem.
    So that’s the way it’s going to be, huh?
    He probably thinks I’ll refuse to wear it.
    I’ll show him.
    I pick up the dress/ lingerie, expecting it to be a size two or four and way too small for me, but it’s a size fourteen and perfect. Hmm. I need a lot of room for these boobs and butt of mine. I’m a curvy girl and proud of it, but I’m surprised he noticed.
    I shimmy into the slip dress and adjust my boobs. For a moment I feel panicked at the thought of going anywhere in this—it’s so skimpy and he neglected to provide any underpants. But I’m not backing down from this challenge.
    Plus, looking in the mirror... I might not be a stick figure, but I look pretty damn good. Not bad, Noelle. Not bad at all .
    I take a deep breath, and then open the door to get this party started. I nearly run right into Theo. He grabs my arm before I can fall over. Something electric sears my skin and I flinch away. He drops his hand and I can see the change in his eyes. He almost looks wounded.
    But Mr. Smooth covers up the emotion in the space of a blink, giving me a quick once over. I’d expected to see some heat in his expression, but the man gives stoic a new meaning. “You look...better.”
    My lips twist in what I hope is a convincing smile. “Well, aren’t you the smooth talker?”
    He rolls his eyes. “I will escort