Brothers of Paradise Series

“Not that word again.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, standing. “I should get showered and changed before the makeup artist arrives. Remember, best behavior around the others.”

“I won’t forget,” Rhys vows. And as he starts unpacking his expensive drone equipment, his watch glittering on his wrist in the sunlight, he snorts. “Predictable.”

I’m still smiling an hour later when it’s finally time to slip into our private pool, amidst all the rose petals. I’ve never done a shoot like this, and I do my best to catalogue all of it-the euphoric feeling of being here, the beauty of our surroundings, the soft water on my skin.

These are memories I’ll cherish for the rest of my life.

“Ivy,” Rhys tells me, “as much as I love your smile, you’re going to have to keep it under control for this shoot.”

I school my features back into the carefully neutral position, the elegantly nonchalant one that I know I’m supposed to project. “Sorry. I’m just so excited to be here, you know.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “And it’s charming.”

My smile is back again. “Hey, that’s one of the adjectives on my pre-approved list!”

He chuckles. “And I haven’t even read yours.”

“What does that say about us?”

“That I’m clearly more intuitive. Now stop smiling.”

“Yes, sir.” But it’s difficult to keep it under control, and I’m glad when he calls the shoot and I can finally relax. “We have enough of the hotel?”

“Yes.” Rhys rolls up the sleeves of his linen button-down. “I have a question, now.”

“Oh?”

“After our little… incident in Kenya, do you trust me enough to get in another car with me?”

I bite my lip. “Are we driving to any deserts?”Têxt © NôvelDrama.Org.

“None.”

“Then yes, I’ll get in another car with you.”

He puts a hand over his heart. “Thank God. My ego couldn’t have handled a no.”

He’s rented another Jeep, this time through the hotel. It has no windows and no roof, a monster of a four-wheel drive. “I thought,” I comment, “that you once said you preferred older cars.”

Rhys’s smile is crooked. “There’s more beauty in them,” he corrects. “But I don’t mind a bit of horsepower from time to time.”

He takes us around the island, following the built-in GPS. It doesn’t take long for me to figure out that this, too, is a place he’s been before-and not just once.

Rhys Marchand is getting more and more difficult to pin down.

We shoot all over the island, both in my bathing suit and in the dress I’ve brought along with us. The Bali swing, the rice fields-we’re everywhere, filming and shooting me seemingly having a blast.

It’s not an act.

Rhys grins at me when he turns onto a dirt road. “Last stop for today,” he tells me. “I have a feeling you’re going to like this.”

I grip the side of the car as it dips perilously into a hollow in the road. “The jungle?”

“We can go exploring tomorrow. But for today…” Rhys glances at me, “How do you feel about swimming under a waterfall?”

“Are you serious?”

“I never joke about waterfalls.”

“Of course I want to!”

After a particularly muddy bend in the road, he parks the car next to a trail. “It’s just past those trees,” he says.

And it is, opening up like an emerald hidden amongst the greenery. A beautiful turquoise pool of water with a twenty-foot waterfall roaring into it from an outcrop of rock. A swimming hole.

And there’s no one else here.

“Rhys,” I whisper, because words have failed me. They could never capture this place, anyway.

His words are quiet too. “Stunning, isn’t it?”

“I can’t believe this place is real.”

“Get into the water. You’ll believe it.”

“Good thing I wore my bikini under this.” I tug my dress over my head and toss it back into the Jeep, stepping forward to the edge of the water. It laps against smoothly polished stones. Taking a deep breath, I know this can’t be the end of my travels. This trip can’t be a once-in-a-lifetime thing.

I need this again.

I’m dimly aware of Rhys shooting, but as I walk into the water, that fades away. He doesn’t comment or direct, either, just takes pictures as I stand with the tepid water around my waist, the waterfall directly in front.

“As soon as you’re done,” I call to Rhys, “you’re joining me in here.”

He does, stepping into the water in nothing but his swim trunks. He looks so comfortable here, with the jungle around us and the sky reflected in the water below. Like he’s made for adventure, for travel, for the unknown.

Made to bend the world to his whims.

“Are we done shooting?” I ask. “For today?”

He raises an eyebrow, knowing what I intend. “Go ahead.”

I dive under the surface and swim toward him, not caring that my hair gets wet, that the carefully applied no-makeup makeup is washed away. I break the surface right in front of him and his hands find me beneath the surface.

“How did you know about this place?”

“I was here a couple of years ago with a few friends,” he says. It feels like the most natural thing in the world to wrap my legs around his waist as we stand in the middle of the swimming hole, the sound of the waterfall behind us.