BILLIONAIRE Island: Idyllic Mischief Read Online Free PDF Page B

furniture across the floor when you clean,” the roar shook at the shimmering tranquil garden. “How many fucking times have I told you idiots the same fucking thing?” Sasha's husband, Tolar could shout loud enough to bring the house down around our ears and Indie couldn't stop from covering back inside herself with a quake of trepidation. Shit, she'd hoped he wasn't at home, away on business.
    “Hallo Sweetie,” Sasha switched from meeting Indie's eyes with a glare of meaning she didn't comprehend, to smiling adorably at her giant husband. Indie could never get over the aberration of his height and how he dwarfed everything around him, making it seem child-size.
    “Darling, I have told you to get the servants to work quietly. I don't like the noise of furniture being pulled about and I don't like them yapping out back.”
    “It is their home out there, Sweetie, I can hardly tell them to 'shut it' when they're off-duty.”
    “It's my home and they will fucking shut it or find another place to live,” Indie cringed as Tolar's booming voice shattered around the peaceful terrace. Sasha, nonchalant as ever, must have become accustomed to what was in fact his normal speaking voice. Tolar had only one gear when it came to speaking-shouting orders. “Oh, hallo Indie. You're here, are you?” He noticed her and bent all the way down to peck her cheek. His head was the size of an ogre, his mouth a gaping gash wide enough to gorge a shovel. The skinny Indian man with molasses eyes, strong enough to bear all of Indie's suitcases at once, barely reached Tolar's wide waist. Greeting over, he turned back to his wife. “Tell them Willy and Horst are coming for dinner so they know to make enough meat, they never cook enough fucking meat, idiot black religious fanatics.”
    Indie's eyes widened, expecting a tirade from Sasha against the racial slur, seeing as she was half black herself. She acted as though she hadn't heard.
    “That's okay, Indie and I are going out for dinner so you should have enough.”
    “Darling, you aren't going out again,” Tolar announced, a touch of menace in his voice making Indie quiver again. She just could not settle into relax and loosen the tension when he was around.
    “Of course we are, Sweetie,” Sasha smiled breezily up at him. “It's Indie's first night and I want to welcome her. We haven't seen each other for ages and I don't want to inflict Willy and Horst immediately.” Indie was about to say it was okay, she didn't mind, but the couple had locked eyes in silent battle, Sasha smiling sweeter than fields of sugar cane, Tolar roiling around within as though trying to reach a decision.
    “Okay, you go tonight for Indie's arrival but tomorrow you stay home with me.” He turned and strode back into his house.
    “Whatthefuck was that about?” Indie mouthed at Sasha.
    She shrugged and looked back over her shoulder so Indie knew she didn't want to say anything because the walls obviously had ears. “Take a shower and rest up for an hour,” was all she said. “We'll leave at eight.”

 
     
    Chapter Four
    Indie was too super-stimulated from the long journey and a glowing new world to sleep, so she went for a swim and after a shower was completely reinvigorated. She slipped into the short black sheath of dress she'd bought at Liberty in London before leaving, an entire day's salary (a very good salary) for barely a yard of fabric. The value was all in the drape. The dress hovered miraculously on her curves, dipping in back with a deep swathe almost to her waist, while somehow cupping her untethered boobs in a sensuous lick of black silk jersey. The tiniest underwear so as not to ruin the effect with ridging around the middle and a screaming high pair of black silk peep-toe heels was all she needed to finish getting dressed.
    “Wow.” Sasha threw open the door and strode into the room. “Great dress, we just need to get you a tan on those ghostly legs.” True, her skin was pallid as