The Billionaire's Wife

By: Holly Rayner







Kissing me on the cheek and then sending shivers down my spine and arms as he went in for a quick nibble of the neck he said, “You look good enough to eat.” I felt myself blush and he laughed. “You’re my wife now; you don’t have to blush anymore.”





“It might take me a while to get used to that. Why don’t we practice? Call me Mrs. Scott?”





“Mrs. Scott, your suite is ready,” he said.





I heard myself squeal like a happy little child. Throwing my arms around his neck, I said, “I love it! I love you! Thank you for all of this.”





He grinned. “We’re just getting started little one.” That time he kissed my lips and as I felt his tongue slip between mine, I thought that I’d never been happier.





Not long after we came up for air, I looked up just as the yacht was pulling into a private peninsula. The water around us was blue-green, clear and so calm there was barely a ripple on the surface. In the background of that beautiful picture were the most beautiful mountains I’d ever seen.





“Oh Aiden! What is this place?” His island was gorgeous, but this one also seemed to have civilization on its side. I could see what looked like a huge resort on the side where we were approaching.





“We are coming in on Rodney Bay and over to the east there is the Atlantic Ocean. That island you see there is Castries, Saint Lucia, and we will be staying in a villa in that resort you see there.”





“It’s incredible, all of it! What are those mountains there in the background called?”





“Those are actually volcanoes,” he said.





“I’ve never seen a volcano before. Look, they have green and purple on the tops of them.”





“The green is the vegetation that grows over them,” he told me. “And the purple is hardened lava, I believe.”





“This is the best honeymoon ever,” I told him.





He laughed and said, “It’s only just begun.”





The yacht let us disembark along a private boarding strip on the far side of the island. I saw a small landing strip there too for airplanes. Aiden told me as we were getting off the yacht that this Island was one of the biggest. It definitely looked big when I was looking at it from the ferry, but now that we were standing on it, it had a serene kind of quality to it. We were picked up by a young man in a golf-cart type vehicle. One of the crew from the yacht had our luggage there and ready to go. The man with the golf cart was very pleasant and he spoke English but with a very quaint French-Creole accent.





He drove us to our suite which looked like a large, round hut on the outside. He unloaded our luggage and we followed him inside. I was breathless as soon as I saw it. The interior walls were stone and the floors were the shiniest marble I had ever seen. The young man sat down our luggage and went over to the far side of the room. He pushed a button and the blinds moved open, showing one full glass wall that looked out onto a flawless white beach and a clear ocean. There was a private patio between us and the sand and it looked like some kind of pool as well. The young man told us it was called a plunge pool. It was for wading when you didn’t want to go into the ocean. There was also an over-sized hammock hanging across one side and a dining area with a charming little bistro table on the other. This place was the true definition of a haven.





“The beach is one mile,” the bellhop said with a smile. “It’s so full of natural beauty and very romantic for long walks. It’s lit at night with oil lamps so you can come and go safely at any hour.”





“It’s lovely,” I told him, but that was an understatement. The inside of the suite had a large sitting room which we were standing in with a stone fireplace and a large, plush, sectional couch and recliners. The table in the center of the room had a marble top and held a brass decanter and a bottle of chilling champagne. The antique vases around the room were filled with fresh tropical flowers that added a bright splash of color to the space. He led us through an inside dining area and a small kitchenette, and then to the pièce de résistance, as he put it, the bedroom.





The bed was an over-sized King with a white mosquito net draped over the at least ten feet tall four posters on the bed. It looked like a person might sink all the way through it if you lay down on it with its soft, downy comforter and big over-sized pillows. There was an antique dresser and armoire and the bathroom had a sunken whirlpool tub and a walk-in glass shower with two heads.





“Aiden, this is…I don’t even have words for it.” This kind of luxury had to cost a fortune, and once again I was trying to comprehend that.

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