SUN-BLASTED BODIES WERE ABSENT on the La Digue despite the palm trees dangling over the beach creating a perfect cocktail-sipping shade. La Digue was a walking trail, with jungle tumbling down a hill on one side, winds between massive granite boulders to reveal a sandy beach so perfectly white and with water so exquisitely turquoise, it seemed unreal.
Dapper, in casual wear, Andrew waited at the dock. He looked gentle with his tattoo exposed and the absence of a scowl on his face. One could tell that he was prepared to have a casual, laid-back evening. Impatiently, he glanced at his watch repeatedly.
The terrible knot in Amara's stomach tightened, even more, as she walked toward him. The frown on his forehead disappeared when he noticed her. He smiled. "Hi?"
"Hi."
"You came?"
It had surprised him and he struggled to hide it.
"I came."
Andrew took an uncertain step towards her and clumsily scooped her into his arms. He twirled her around. His laugh was a beautiful thing just like the rest of him – sweet and genuine. It was full of warmth. It meshed well with his laid appearance and made him seem that much more approachable.
"You know what this means right?"
She nodded.
"I'm glad you came. I have many questions, but we don't have the time for them." Gently, he set her back on the ground and took her hand. "There is a party on a yacht docked not far from here. There are a few people I'd like to introduce you to. Thank you for coming. Shall we?"
"Of course."
Amara gripped his hand as he walked down the dock where boats were moored in a line. The turquoise ocean was clear, and it silently rocked a mega yacht filled with people moving about inside. The name Cattleya was calligraphed at the front with a drawing of an orchid.
"Is this yours?"
"Yes. I purchased it after my first big paycheck years ago," he explained. "It was the first time I ever visited Khana."
"Why the name Cattleya?"
"The Cattleya orchids were my grandmother's favorite flowers. She planted them in our home garden. I loved her. We spent a lot of time together during my childhood, gardening. She died a few days after I purchased it. I couldn't give it any other name."
She squeezed his hands. "You're sentimental, I like that a lot."
He brought their intertwined hands to his mouth and kissed the back of her hand. "Thank you."
Andrew helped her maneuver up the steps of the yacht. The idea to wear a body-hugging dress suddenly felt stupid.
Inside, a few people mingled over drinks. The men were wearing khaki shorts, polo shirts, and loafers, mostly without socks. The women wore tiny skirts with plaid blouses or even shorter sundresses. As Andrew moved past the crowd, introducing her to several people, she enjoyed the thrill of being sheltered in his arms. Although she felt out of place, she tried to put the thought out of her mind. Class divide was just an illusion.
Andrew's friends and acquaintances were friendly, but she expected nothing less. They seemed to respect him, more than the usual kind that a human being had for another in a position of power. As if they feared him. But what was there to fear?
Leaning closer, Andrew whispered into her ear, "my best friend will be here soon. He's the groom and the one I couldn't wait for you to meet."
"Okay."
"You seem tense," he said.
"I'm out of my depth, but I'm fine."
His smile beamed. "You are... fine."
A woman, in a rush, interrupted their conversation and dragged Andrew away before he had the chance to properly introduce her. He shot her an apologetic smile before dissolving into a large group of people.
Amara grabbed a drink from the servers walking around and moved outside. It was not often to see a sunset- gold horizon over the water. That was her privilege as she gazed out the kindling sea, enjoying the new feeling of a moving yacht. It was a watery wonderland.
"I'm going to go out on a limb and say you're not from here."
Her serenity had been interrupted. A warm brown face stared at her, and she stared back, enthralled. His eyes looked exactly like Andrew's. Same honey-colored eyes.
"How do you know?" she asked.
"It's customary to introduce yourself to the host before swilling their booze." He chuckled softly. "You didn't."
"The host?"
"James," he introduced. "I'm the party planner."
Amara took the hand he offered and let hers linger on his for a couple of seconds before it got uncomfortable.
He had strong arched brows with a cut on the left side and eyelashes so thick they made her jealous. Cords of muscles shaped his entire body; strong arms, bold thighs, and a firm chest. He was tall, almost a foot taller than her.
"Amara, right?" he asked.
She eyed him skeptically.
"I tend to find out information about beautiful women." He grinned. "Your name is just as beautiful as you are. I could say it all day."
Amara couldn't help but smile back when he smiled at her. He was handsome and charismatic. Goosebumps rose to her arms and the hairs on her neck stood in awareness of his nearness and the huskiness of his voice. There was a presence about him. He was the type of man who commanded the attention of a room once he walked into it. No questions asked. Formidable.
"Thank you. Nice to meet you, James. I'm sorry for not introducing myself. You're right, I am not from here. I didn't know about the customs. "
"It's fine." He glanced away from her for a split second before returning a charming smile. "You can make it up to me."
Suddenly, he took a step back and she felt a kind of loss that she couldn't explain. As if someone had yanked a safety blanket out of her arms. Before she could look back at where his eyes had moved, Andrew stepped behind her and slid a hand around her waist. She didn't have to look back to know it was him. His scent was distinct: rosewood.
"I see you two have met." Amara glanced up at him but Andrew was focused on James. His lethal stare felt painful and piercing as if it would tear him into pieces. "Jamie."
"Andrew," James called back. "How have you been brother? It's been a while."
"Fine. I can't complain," Andrew replied curtly.
Amara grabbed her throat. She could feel it constricting and it made it hard to breathe. "Brother?" She asked in such a low tone she wasn't sure either of them had heard her, not with the way they were looking at each other. She could cut the tension with a knife.
"She's a beautiful woman," James commented, looking at her straight in the eye. It made her shiver a little, no wonder they had the same gaze. "You're a lucky man."
"I know," Andrew replied coldly.
Amara convinced herself that the tension she felt between the two was her imagination. They were brothers, animosity wasn't something that existed between blood. Was it?
James took her hands and pulled them to his mouth for two brief kisses on each. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Amara."
She didn't miss the glint in his eyes, the danger that flashed in them a few seconds before he walked away.
Reluctantly, she turned to Andrew. "I had no idea you had a brother. You've never mentioned him before. Are you not close?"
"Was that the reason you were flirting with him so shamelessly?" he asked. "If you were aware, would you have been less shameless?"
It took her by surprise. Amara glanced at him again, this time, with widened eyes. He watched his brother walk off into the crowd and turned to look back at her. He was angry.