Exposure_A Stone Billionaire Series Novel Read online

  I'm not a hand holder, but as I find my hand slipping into hers, it's comfortable.

  Ava barely notices, and frankly, neither do I.

  If I'm going to hold hands with anyone, I would rather it be Ava, of all the women I've met, she is the one I like the most.

  She's the one I'm most likely to want around.

  Almost immediately she spots a fishing boat, the man who owns it about to leave for the day, and drags me towards him, a devious smirk on that adorable face of hers.

  “Ava, we're not doing this,” I try to protest. “We're not going fishing.”

  “You said you wanted to learn,” She smirks.

  Then she drags me further towards the man.

  “Come on,” I protest.

  “This is your chance,” Ava's grin is infectious as she drags me towards the boat.

  Thankfully the fisherman speaks English, and when she offers him some money to bring us aboard he readily agrees to let us come aboard with a case of beer.

  He uses nets, to catch more, while a couple of rods lay in the bottom of the weather-worn boat.

  The man, Vishal, seems happy. Maybe because of the cash?

  Or, maybe it’s because life in this peaceful little village is more relaxing than New York?

  There's a good inch of water in the bottom, but Ava doesn't care as she jumps in and we cast off.

  She helps Vishal with the net he shows her.

  I pick up one of the rods.

  “You won't catch much with that,” Vishal laughs. “But you can try.”

  “He's never used a rod before,” Ava's eyes sparkle in the sunlight, and I realize there's more than she's letting on.

  “I’ll show you Corban,” Vishal says. “Okay, you do it like this.”

  Vishal easily casts the rod in the water. He points to the little bobber in the water.

  “Once you see that moving,” he begins to reel the rod in. “You start to reel it in. Hopefully, it's a fish, not seaweed.”

  “Okay,” I take his instruction, knowing I won't be any good at this as I prepare to cast.

  “Wait!” Ava and Vishal shout at the same time.

  “What am I doing wrong?” I frown, sitting down to take a sip of my beer.

  “Worms,” Vishal points to the bucket. “You need to put bait on the hook,”

  Vishal finds the hook and sticks a worm on it nice and good for me before turning to Ava. “You've been fishing before?” he asks.

  She's helping him with the net, and her crocheted dress, in light ivory, looks hot with a red bikini underneath. I watch the dress rise above her thighs.

  “A few times,” She laughs. “Weekend trips and that,”

  There's a shrug in there, and I understand that she's talking about work.

  Handy little thing she is.

  I tug on the back of her dress, and she squeals, swatting at me.

  I swear he's flirting with her.

  “You should show your fiancé how it's done then,” Vishal smirks, finishing his beer.

  Ava prances over to me, moving to my other side to give Vishal some room, before picking up a rod and threading a worm on the hook flawlessly.

  She casts wider than I manage to.

  “The key to this,” she whispers. “Is total silence, or else you scare the fish away.”

  “Then you better shut up,” I bounce back at her with a wide grin.

  “Shah, dear,” She puts a finger to my lips, and I want to suck on it but think better of it.

  She makes me hot, every second.

  The day is just beginning to get hotter, but out here on the water, it's not too bad.

  The scenery is lush, the sea water smells fantastic with the water lapping at our feet on the bottom of the boat.

  This feels like paradise to me.

  Anywhere Ava is, it's paradise.

  Then I see my bobber go underneath and I reel the line in as fast as I can manage.

  Before the line snaps.

  Ava laughs, and Vishal shakes his head.

  It's going to be a long day.

  But I am determined to catch something before today is over.

  Ava reties another hook for me, and I manage to get a worm on.

  I catch more and more seaweed, Ava comes up with nothing.

  Between the three of us the case of beer disappears, and Ava finally comes up with what Vishal calls a Spanish mackerel.

  To me, it's an ugly little thing.

  “It’s time to go in for dinner anyway,” he tells us. “My wife will wonder where I am.”

  Ava stares down at the scaly little thing in her hands.

  “I'll have my wife clean it for you, and teach you how to cook it,” Vishal offers.

  Ava is delighted, and over more beers, we eat mostly burned fish that is just as satisfying because we, and by we, I mean mostly Ava, caught it ourselves.

  “You don't cook much?” Avvy, Vishal's wife laughs at Ava.

  She speaks just as much English as her husband.

  Ava laughs. “No.”

  “I'm more of the chef,” I admit.

  It's true. I make an effort to cook whenever I can, I learn as much as I can so that I have one healthy thing in my life.

  Ava seems surprised by this, she masks it well though.

  She whispers in a low voice. “Since when do you cook? Do you even have time for that?”

  “I make time,” I whisper back, then kiss her on the forehead.

  “What are weddings like in New York?” Avvy asks.

  I open more beer for the four of us.

  “They're usually a big affair,” Ava explains. “Large receptions, too much food, too big for my taste.”

  “Mine as well,” I agree.

  “You should do what you want to,” Avvy tells us. “Weddings are about the marriage, aren't they?” She asks.

  “We should just get married on an island somewhere,” The words come from us in unison, and we both end up laughing.

  I know the two of us have had too much to drink, and there is absolutely no way this is happening.

  No way.

  We're not even really engaged.

  “Cheers to that,” Ava clinks her bottle against mine and then explains to a confused Avvy and Vishal what a “cheer” is.

  ****

  May 4, 2017

  My mouth is dry.

  Dry and when the words come out, they are incoherent, and I feel like… like I'm drowning in my hangover. I

  move to the toilet fast enough to vomit into the toilet, narrowly missing Ava who is curled up on the floor.

  “Are you okay?” I manage to mumble after she looks up at me.

  “I'm dead,” She tells me with absolute certainty. “I'm dead.”

  She leans against the vanity, pulling her legs against her chest, she's wearing one of my t-shirts and the bikini bottoms from yesterday, mostly dry.

  I realize I don't remember a thing from last night.

  I don't know where my phone is; I don't know where her ring is, I don't know what happened. The last thing I remember is finishing all the beer we bought before going to the village, and the next series of events becomes… extremely blurry.

  I don't think there was sex.

  I'm sure I would remember if there was sex.

  Or would I?

  “I think we were extremely drunk last night,” She says before she looks at the watch on her wrist. “It's almost one in the afternoon, I think I just threw up for like an hour.”

  “Oh my god don't say that,” I mumble before I start puking again.

  “Nothing came up but bile after a bit. I need food, and aspirin,” she croaks.

  “Call room service,” I try to get the words out, but all I can taste is the vomit coming up.

  I hear the water running, and Ava sets a glass of water down beside me before stumbling away.

  I manage to drink the whole glass, before vomiting that up.

  This is as close to alcohol poisoning as I've ever come, I t
hink, as I manage to get back in the bed. “I haven't gotten that drunk since I was twenty-five.”

  “I am twenty-five,” Ava shivers in the sheets as she dials room service, speaking into the receiver.

  “Hello, room service? I need aspirin and food. What kind of food? Hangover food. Okay. Thank you,” she croaks again.

  We lay in bed together for a few moments, Ava curling up beside me.

  I can feel morning wood, and part of me wants to touch her, run my hands all over her body, I can see parts of her exposed that I want to feel.

  Flashes of last night come back.

  We had sex.

  I can't remember if it was good sex, but there was sex involved.

  “Okay,” I tell her, before I bury myself in the sheets.

  Just as I begin to drift off there is a knock at the door.

  “You get it; I think I'm naked,” I groan.

  “You're wearing a shirt,” Ava tells me. “You're wearing a shirt,” She repeats as she shuffles over to the door. “That can't be room service,” She is suddenly alert. “I just called.”

  “What?” I sit up in bed as she opens the door.

  Avvy and Vishal are standing there, looking relieved.

  “Oh good, you are here. We were a little worried about you last night; you two were extremely drunk,” Vishal says.

  “No shit,” Ava sits down on the couch. “Come on in, make yourselves at home… we just ordered food.”

  “They almost wouldn't let us in, but we were here with you last night,” Avvy explains.

  “You were?” Ava looks back at them as they take one step inside the bure and Ava gives me a curious look as I sit up in the bed.

  “We had to drive you home; I've never driven a car before. That was exciting,” Vishal announces as his face lights up.

  What am I in for with the rental company?

  “Then you insisted on celebrating at the bar, and you paid the man at the desk to let us in, so we stayed at the bar very late, you two had much to drink, celebrating,” Vishal adds.

  “Celebrating what?” Ava's asks confused.

  Her confusion is as thick as mine, and through the fog of the hangover, I feel like I vaguely remember something. “I remember talking about the wedding.”

  “You don't remember?” Avvy looks at us, slightly worried.

  “Remember? We talked about getting married on an island…” Ava trails off.

  The expression on her face goes from one of confusion to total recognition as she looks down to her hands because when I look down at mine, they are no longer barren of anything.

  No longer barren because there it is, a gold band.

  A simple gold band.

  “Ava…” I start.

  “Corban,” She holds up her hand. “What is this?”

  “What is this?” I ask her in return.

  “You don't remember? Getting married?” Vishal asks.

  “Holy shit!” Ava exclaims, her face serious. “I dared you to marry me, didn't I?”

  I watch her face change as everything comes back to her in a flash.

  “Oh my god, this actually happened!” her voice comes out a squeak.

  “Yes, we drove to the registrar office with your passports; we were your witnesses,” Avvy confirms.

  Ava looks as though she's going to puke again, putting her hand over her mouth as she swallows hard.

  “Are you okay?” Avvy asks.

  “I'm just really hung over,” Ava recovers quickly.

  Then room service comes, and I wonder what we just got ourselves into.

  Chapter 5: Ava

  May 5, 2017

  Sucker punch.

  When I was six, and I was led by a social worker into a room with plenty of overused toys, touched by other children, all I could think was when was I going home to mom and dad?

  When she told me I wasn't going back, and that mom and dad were gone, it was like being sucker punched on the playground by that mean girl, that always used to push me around.

  I would say inevitable fall and get the wind sucked out of me; it was like a sucker punch.

  At the tender age of six, I knew my life was never going to be the same again.

  This feels the same because I know now that whatever feelings I have for this man, that I've known only for a week, are real.

  It's a sucker punch, finding out that I made a snap decision in a moment of weakness and I know barely anything about the man.

  I know his parents are divorced, I know he's close with Noah Stone, I know he dated a string of beautiful women, and his ex-girlfriend is a troublesome model who brings a lot of difficulty to the table.

  I know that the simple, real life I wanted to live as Ava James is suddenly out of grasp, slipped away like the sand slipping through my fingers as I sit on the beach.

  I pick up sand and let it slip through my fingers.

  I watch the sand like my old life is slipping away.

  I cannot tell Isa one word of this.

  The answer comes to me: a simple, quickie divorce, and be done with it.

  I cannot explain that while I was in foster care, because he doesn't even know that part of me, I lived with a Catholic family, who taught me a lot, and I still go to church on Sundays.

  I don’t consider myself Catholic, like my parents were, but I don't believe in divorce.

  I don't even know what he believes in.

  I've barely been able to look at Corban, though we played along enough for Avvy and Vishal to have an excellent breakfast with them.

  Then I avoided Corban the rest of the day.

  But now I can't avoid him anymore as I turn back for the bure, to see Corban standing on the deck.

  “So, we should probably talk about the nondisclosure agreement now, for both our sakes?” He asks.

  “That's what you want to talk about? Not our legal, real marriage?” I ask, holding up my hand, finding it curious that we're both still wearing our rings.

  The pure gold band means more to me than I thought it would, and I can't bring myself to take it off.

  “Well, you’ve been avoiding me, so I figured that topic was off the table, or are we going to have another fight on how I can't call you Ava, considering I married you?” Corban sounds angry.

  “Yes, you married me, and you don't know a thing about me. You want to discuss the quickie divorce now or later?” I shoot back.

  “That's what you want? Better sign that agreement now then,” The sarcasm in Corban's delicious voice is so thick I can taste it.

  I slap him hard across the face.

  “Married or not,” I point at him rudely. “You don't talk to me like that, Ava or Bexley.”

  “Oh Ava, come on,” He shakes his head as he rubs his cheek.

  “Fine,” I relent, then I cross my arms and sit on the couch. “I'll sign the damn agreement, then we can go get your damn divorce, and you can be rid of me. But you owe Isa the full fee, regardless.”

  “I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you. This is to protect you as much as it is to protect me. More so you than me, what do you think is going to happen to normal little Ava James if anyone gets wind of the fact that we got married?” Corban spouts back.

  I press my lips together and say nothing because those are the exact thoughts that have been swirling around in my head.

  My wish for a normal life is gone, and I have real feelings for a man I married utterly by accident.

  An accidental legally binding marriage.

  Who even carries around their passports in a foreign country anyway?

  A woman and a man who forgot to take them out of her purse, that's who.

  I feel as stupid as I've ever felt, like the day I sat in front of Isa and realized how much of a cut she gets, and how little she was paying me.

  It was more money that I hoped for, but less than I thought.

  I felt incredibly stupid but somehow lucky.

  Why do I feel somehow lucky now? Because I have some sort of f
eelings for him that I entirely cannot decipher? Or that he wants to protect me by having me sign a contract that ultimately, will just defend him?

  “Can I at least just tell you, that what I remember from yesterday, was the most amazing day I've ever had in my life? This isn't what I asked for you know? Finding a woman that brings out the side of me I've wondered about my whole life? I went from high school, onto my bachelors, then straight to my masters, to running a highly successful business, ending up a billionaire, I never had time to live my life, and I finally feel like I'm living it and you are a big reason for that,” Corban starts.

  “You dragged me into everything yesterday, and I hope you realize none of yesterday would've happened if you hadn't been there. You are stunningly stubborn, and impossibly hard to agree with, but, you're the only woman that seems to be able to draw out another side of me. I've been on vacations with other women, but you know what? I haven't even looked at my phones since I've been here with you. That means something to me. I don't know about you.” He declares.

  His brutal honesty does mean something to me, and I feel tears sliding down my cheeks. “I just thought you'd automatically want a quickie divorce since you brought up, that,” I point to the nondisclosure.

  “I don't want to sign it. I don't want to sign it because what happens between us stays between us; I'm not Rowan, I'm not going to broadcast our private business because it's our private business. It makes me feel like you don’t trust me,” I explain.

  “I do trust you though,” Corban replies.

  “You don't even know me, you don’t know the half of it,” I tell him. “You know nothing.”

  “So, tell me?” he urges me. “Tell me something, anything?”

  I feel vulnerable, but not enough to admit anything, so I stay quiet.

  “Alright. Well, I planned a little thing for us today. Get dressed, put a bikini on. I'll see you outside in half an hour, okay?” he says.

  “Alright,” I nod.

  I let him kiss my forehead, because it's a welcome gesture, especially when he doesn't mention the nondisclosure agreement again.

  I'm in danger of falling hard for this man because there's nothing that can stop me from telling him everything if he starts asking questions again.

  ***

  When I walk down to the beach, Corban is standing by a dingy, with a man waiting to take us to a luxurious speedboat, sitting in the distance.