Exposure_A Stone Billionaire Series Novel Read online

  “Sometimes if it's a hard pill to swallow, it's easy to redirect your anger. Especially if the person that information is about… isn't there,” Tinsley looks guilty.

  “Oh?” I raise an eyebrow.

  “I’ve screamed at Noah over nothing before, and every time he just takes it, he lets me scream,” Tinsley shakes her head.

  “Now that's a man. Corban just yells back most of the time,” I say.

  I miss him.

  We both laugh, and I feel a release of pressure on my chest.

  I can forgive Corban, and I've been a little harsh on him.

  Maybe.

  My worries start to fade when one of Noah's staff members suggest we pull out the jet skis.

  *****

  “I'm not sure how to apologize to Corban,” I admit.

  “Women are like that I've been told, just go back and do what women do, I'm told that is very effective as an apology,” Tinsley giggles.

  “It's not even just that. I was mean,” I laugh. “I can't believe he puts up with me.”

  “He loves you,” Tinsley explains as she explores the clothes in her closet.

  Clothes in a closet.

  On a yacht.

  This is the sort of luxury people only dream of.

  This actually perplexes me as to why she has clothes on his yacht.

  Quite the assortment of them too.

  “He'd have to love me a whole lot,” I scoff at her.

  “It's written all over his adorable face, in every glance,” she pauses tossing a royal blue silk dress my way. “I’ve known Corban and long time, and Corban looks at you as though he's going to lose you, like he loves you that much. He found something so great he's afraid he's going to blow away in the wind,” her voice is soft.

  She has a way with words, and all I can muster up from her revelation is, “Are you serious?”

  “Noah saw it too. After dinner the other night Noah and I were talking about the two of you, you both seemed seriously in love. Obviously angry at each other, but you both seem very much in love. It's no wonder you got married,” She smiles at me, and it's the first smile I see all day that looks like a genuine smile.

  I wonder if it has anything to do with the way she was talking about herself and Noah.

  But that's not at the forefront of my mind.

  I like the way that she says we belong together.

  Corban and I.

  Tinsley insists on sitting on the top deck for dinner, since there's virtually no wind, just off the beach on Noah's island.

  We haven't gone anywhere, we're just on the yacht, like a mini vacation.

  I don't understand why she insisted on his full staff, without the captain and crew, but then I see servers and plates of food.

  “Oh, look,” she notices the chef coming out with two plates of food as the lights of the yacht come on.

  Fresh fish, a tomato dish and some sort of mashed potato that is wonderfully light and fluffy but spiced at the same time.

  We finish every bite without being too full along with an entire bottle of wine and then start another.

  “So, you still have feelings for Noah then?” I ask finally, wondering if I should ask.

  I'm almost afraid to.

  Tinsley laughs, blushing and throwing her head back. “Of course, I do. Not that I expect this to work out, after all this time,” She admits

  “Oh boy,” I sigh.

  I pour more wine, from the second bottle, into her glass.

  “We're going to need something stronger tonight,” I say

  “I'm not much of a drinker,” Tinsley admits. “Red wine, I drink because I'm Italian, and that's what we drink with dinner.”

  “Well consider me your guru for a second,” I suggest. “And I'm suggesting something stronger. So, we can hatch a plan to get you and Noah together.”

  “Back together,” Tinsley corrects me as she leans over a bit in her chair, considering this. “Have you ever been to Italy?”

  “No,” I confess.

  “Noah swore he would take me to Venice again, I just don’t know if I can trust him. There’s so much between us. Fanculo,” Tinsley swears in a language I barely recognize.

  “Was that Italian?” I raise an eyebrow.

  “Yes, I speak a few languages, mostly Spanish and Italian. Too many summers in Italy with relatives,” She calls to one of the servers in Spanish to demonstrate. “Tequila para nosotros por favor. Once you learn one, you know most of them”

  Shaking her head Tinsley sounds exasperated now. “I speak four languages, I have a degree, we have a past, there's so much between us. I just don’t know if what we have is strong enough to survive whatever comes next.”

  Maybe tequila isn't such a good idea?

  “Have you two had a conversation about this?” I ask.

  “Several,” She hangs her head in shame. “It just feels like, we can’t solve what we’re fighting about. He insists something, then I insist and then it’s just a mess.”

  A bottle of golden liquid with a label I can't read is placed on the table along with shot glasses and Tinsley doesn't notice.

  “You know, all these years, he’s always been in the background. We had that secret relationship when I was younger, broke up. But we carried on, meeting in Venice every so often, and then I was engaged,” she huffs. “Then I was engaged to Connor, whom I hate, and Noah and I still carried on behind everyone’s backs. We’ve always been there for each other and now I’m not sure we can overcome anything else.”

  Then she notices everything has been set down and sobers up slightly, like a bowl of fruit has sobered her up.

  It makes me laugh a little bit.

  “It’s confusing,” She rubs her temple.

  “Oh my god, whatever,” I blurt out, rolling my eyes.

  I open the bottle and pour us two shots, right to the rim.

  “Just take a shot,” I explain, “It'll help us come up with a plan.”

  It's like I have to remind her.

  “Okay,” She nods. “I've never done this.”

  “You've never done tequila?” disbelief is written all over my face.

  “Never,” She shakes her head.

  “Ever?” I still can't believe the woman hasn't ever done tequila.

  “Never,” She shakes her head again.

  I give the back of my hand a quick lick, then dump salt carelessly across the damp spot. “Do what I'm doing, Tins,” I order.

  Tinsley mimics my movements, like a marionette.

  “You hold the lime, you lick the salt, take the shot, and then cram the lime in your mouth, and suck it. Then brace yourself,” I instruct.

  I lick the salt, and I toss the booze back. Swallowing the tequila, I stuff the lime right in my mouth, ripping all the fruit off the rind and chewing it until I swallow.

  Tinsley licks the salt, takes the shot, and then sputters and coughs, before sucking on the lime.

  “That wasn't too bad,” she says, trying hard to regain control.

  Her eyes are watering, she swallows hard and picks up another piece of lime. “I need like… something else. Soda or water.”

  “How do you feel?” I prod for answers

  “I said I need soda,” Tinsley is easily confused when she drinks, no wonder their relationship is confusing.

  “Do you feel bolder, I mean Tinsley,” I clarify.

  “What?” Tinsley repeats.

  “Like… do you feel more confident?” I ask.

  “Okay…” Tinsley responds confused.

  “Okay,” I try to rectify this. “If Noah were here right now, what would you say to him?

  “I would,” she drifts off and stares into space for a moment. “I would tell him to tell the goddamn truth! I would tell him to man the fuck up!”

  Tinsley suddenly covers her mouth, like she doesn’t swear that often.

  Maybe it’s something else?

  “Okay we’re getting better here,” I nod before I pour more shots.
/>   Tinsley sputters and chokes less on this one.

  “It burns,” she tells me hoarsely.

  “It’s supposed to,” I remind her.

  “I just don’t know if love is enough, you know?” Tinsley asks. “What if after all this time, the love just isn’t enough?”

  “But what if it is?” I remind her.

  “If it isn’t I might as well become a nun,” Tinsley whines.

  “Well you aren't getting married, so you may as well just go for it, unless you're going to a nunnery, in that case, I say we finish the whole bottle, tonight!” I slam my fist down on the table.

  “Yes!” Tinsley pours us two more shots. “But this is maddening.”

  “Just tell him you want to work it out!” I croon all too loudly.

  “I don't even know what I would do without him in my life,” She whines and she looks petrified at the thought. “The time we spent apart was just horrible, and then the engagement and my life has been upside down,” Tinsley looks about to start sobbing, and I rub her back a little.

  “It's okay,” I croon.

  “That's what I told myself, for all those years. I told myself it was okay,” She begins to tear up.

  What have I done?

  “Just do another shot!” I command, and she instantly downs the tequila, coughing and sputtering again.

  I follow suit because I have no choice.

  “Just have sex and think about the consequences later?” I suggest.

  Even in my inebriated state I know that's a terrible suggestion.

  Sex will not fix anything.

  “Oh my god,” Tinsley whines. “And the sex is so incredible, I literally cannot resist that man. He’s like… I can’t even explain it. You know, I’ve only ever slept with Noah, and I’ve never felt the need to sleep with anyone else because he’s so satisfying.”

  Her words just make me think of Corban, that that feeling of spurring him onward when he hears his name coming from my lips, and the instant attraction I felt when I first met him is refreshed in my memory.

  I feel boldness from the Tequila and now?

  Nothing can come between us!

  Now I understand why we got married in the first place.

  Alcohol.

  Not that alcohol is the reason we are still married, but it can heighten feelings, you otherwise don't realize.

  “I do love him,” I sigh as I pour more shots.

  “And I love Noah!” Tinsley wails.

  “Don't do that. Don't. Take a shot,” I urge her not to cry, and Tinsley sucks on a lime.

  The bottle looks way emptier than it should.

  I don’t remember drinking that much.

  Another shot goes by.

  “You have been in love with him like forever? Right?” I ask. “How did you know? Like I know I love Corban, but like… am I in love with him?”

  “We can see that you're in love with him. I told you that,” Tinsley repeats.

  We stumble away from the table together, holding onto each other for dear life as we approach the stairs down to the lower level, in search of more alcohol.

  “Tequila por favor,” I say to no one as we walk unevenly together down the narrow steps.

  This is the only Spanish phrase I know.

  We continue to stumble and land on the soft cushions at the back of the boat, giving up to stare at the stars.

  “We're so small,” I tell Tinsley. “We're small and stupid because we can't just… not be stupid.”

  “I think I'm drunk!” She hollers.

  “Me too. I also think… that was most of a bottle of tequila,” I stumble through my words.

  “Or the whole bottle,” Tinsley corrects me with a hiccup.

  We laugh hysterically for no reason at all.

  Chapter 15: Corban

  May 11, 2017

  There's a knock at Noah's office door, and one of the men from Noah's yacht is at the door.

  “Sir, they're… they're a little drunk.” He says.

  “What?” Noah raises an eyebrow. “How can they be drunk? Tinsley doesn't drink.”

  “Sir they're refusing to get out of the dingy, it's beached on the sand, they're singing. You may want to come,” He tells us.

  The man looks nervous as all hell.

  “What?” I ask.

  I glance from Noah to his employee.

  “I've never heard my wife sing,” I tell Noah.

  “Tinsley isn't a singer,” Noah says worriedly.

  “I told you, you may want to come,” the man tells us.

  He is damn near laughing now

  Noah and I make our way down to the beach, where Tinsley and Ava are covered in sand, stumbling all over the dingy, enacting the flying scene from Titanic screaming the lyrics to a song.

  Not exactly singing, but hilarious none the less, as Tinsley topples over.

  “Oh my god… she's in the water!” Ava screams, convincingly at that, as she pretends to dive in and I wonder just how much they had to drink.

  “Two bottles of wine, and the tequila,” One of Noah's employees reports.

  “The one I was saving?” Noah asks, the look on his face is a mixture of disappointment and impressed. “Good on them, but that's going to hurt tomorrow morning.”

  Right on cue, Ava starts puking in the sand, and I rush to hold her hair back as she tries to talk, but nothing comes out, except for too much tequila.

  “It's okay,” I rub her back.

  Noah just shakes his head, because he's holding back Tinsley's hair a few feet away. “It's like they knew we were going to walk away in a few moments,” Noah laughs.

  He scoops Tinsley up in his arms, listening to her muttering, calming her down as he carries her up into the house.

  “My, my you're covered in vomit. Let's get you cleaned up,” Noah shakes his head. “And you drank all the tequila.”

  “All of it?” I hear Tinsley ask. “Because I can't feel my teeth.”

  “Well, that's an odd thing to say,” I'm talking to myself as Ava looks up at me, groaning.

  “Are you dead?” I ask.

  “Tequila… one tequila… is enough,” she groans again.

  “Not for you apparently,” I shake my head. “Come on, let's get you in the house.”

  I brace myself for her to fight me, and when she doesn't, I scoop her up in my arms, puke and all, carrying her upstairs into the bedroom that I usually use before putting her in the shower, with the water on nice and warm.

  “You're hot,” She tells me as I peel away the puke-soaked clothes.

  “So are you,” I tell her, trying to stifle the laughter.

  Taking care of drunk women isn't high on my priority list, but she's probably the hottest drunk woman I've ever had the pleasure of meeting.

  “I'm still mad, but you're hot,” She reports back.

  “Of course, you are,” And I watch as she falls right over, sitting down, in the rain shower.

  “Ugh, Ava come on, stay upright for two seconds so that I can clean you up,” I groan

  It's going to be a long night.

  ***

  Ava does the death walk into Noah's immaculately clean dining room.

  Tinsley has her head down on the glass dining room table, she groans every few minutes and sips her coffee, but says absolutely nothing.

  Ava looks dreadful, she's taken a shower, but she seems bewildered and confused.

  She sits across from me, a seat between her and Tinsley, at a table that could probably seat twelve. Noah is sitting at the head of the table, with the view of the beach and the ocean in front of him, casually flipping through a magazine, with himself on the cover.

  “Good morning Ava. I trust you helped yourself to some aspirin?” He asks.

  “Aspirin? Where?” She asks desperately.

  “Magda can get we get Mrs. Ava here some aspirin, probably an antacid and some coffee,” Noah calls.

  I laugh, because Noah rarely does anything for himself. His housekeeper Magda must
be about sixty, and he takes her everywhere and pays her well. She has no husband or kids, and she seems just about happy as anything to take care of him and whatever he needs.

  It's an odd relationship indeed, but who wouldn't want to spend weeks in Fiji when all they must do is cook really? Because Noah employs a cleaning staff as well, and the gardeners at work outside.

  “I think I know where I am now,” Ava croaks.

  “You didn't know where you were?” I'm a little shocked.

  “My last recollection… was taking shots… and then puking… and then nothing,” She croaks again. Then she accepts the pills and coffee from Magda.

  There's more silence as Noah, and I flip through the same magazine.

  “Is this narcissistic?” I ask, looking up at him.

  “I didn't ask them to make me man of the year or put me on the cover. How could that be narcissistic? I just happen to be reading the magazine. Though I will admit, the picture is quite good,” Noah smirks.

  “Quite,” I repeat laughing.

  I watch Ava take a few sips of her coffee, then a bite of one of Magda's buttery croissants before she attacks it full force and swallows the whole thing in maybe three bites.

  “Oh my god. Is she French?” Ava grabs another croissant.

  “Or Italian, or Spanish. She can cook everything,” Noah quips.

  The answer is always different, a running joke, because Magda speaks all the romance languages well, but she is French, and she bakes the world's best croissants.

  “She could be a billionaire selling those croissants alone,” Noah nods.

  “Agreed,” Ava swallows another one, practically whole and I decide that's another thing that I love about this woman, she's not afraid to eat.

  She passes one to Tinsley, and eventually, they are semi-intelligible when they talk, which is when I can finally ask, what exactly happened.

  “Well… we went swimming,” Tinsley starts, blushing slightly, obviously recollecting something.

  “And then we had dinner,” Ava recalls. “We drank too much wine… there was a bottle of tequila and then… well, I'm sure you gentleman know the rest.”

  “You were singing,” Noah smirks.

  “The crew told us to come get you because you wouldn't leave,” I laugh. “You tried to save Tinsley from drowning… in the sand… after re-enacting a pretty famous movie.”