The Accidental Mistress

chapter Nine

Christophe woke to sunshine, more than usual. As if the sun had risen in his room. He frowned and squinted against the fiery hot glare, his vision soon returned with slow focus. He was so tired last night he hadn't noticed that the room was all windows and the blinds were all drawn open. "Shit!" he groaned turning over to bury his face in the pillow. The warm heat of the tropical sun then baked into his back and shoulders.

The phone rang.

Christophe growled in anger. He reached out and grabbed the receiver in his hand and slammed it back down on the cradle. Sleep came like a dark fog covering every corner of his consciousness. It might have been minutes, no more than a half-hour later when fist pounds hit his door. In defeat, he lifted from the pillow and rubbed the fatigue out of his eyes. Christophe snatched back the tangled sheets. When he threw his legs over the side of the bed, he lifted his gaze and stopped. His closet door was swung open. There was nothing inside. He sat there puzzled, staring at the three wooden hangers undisturbed on a clothing bar. Christophe had been certain the closet was closed when he went to sleep.


The knock came again.

Snatching on a pair of trousers, he pulled them up over his bare ass. Who the f*ck would come calling this early in the morning? When he opened the door and Elliot strolled in, he groaned. "What is it?"

“We have a meeting my man. What the hell are you doing?” Elliot asked, stopping to look at the bottle of half drunk Scotch. He picked it up. “Have you started boozing for breakfast?”

“How do we have a meeting when we arrived early? They don't know we're here.”

Elliot chuckled. “You drink too much Christophe. Give it a rest.”

“Piss off,” Christophe grumbled. He hadn't drunk that much. He didn't have the usual thick tongue and achy skull he would have if he finished off a bottle. He only had a foul temper to match his short patience. Christophe dropped in a wicker chair. He covered his face with his arm as he slouched down on the floral cushion.

“Of course they know we're here. I got a call from that sexy ass Baptiste woman, Joi. She said that the manager wants to meet with us first thing. Breakfast. Her name is Zuri.”

Christophe lowered his arm. “What did you say?”

"I said breakfast."

"No. The name?"

"Joi? Zuri?"

"Zuri what?" Christophe sat back.

"How the f*ck do I know?"

Christophe stared at Elliot long and hard. Zuri Baptiste? It couldn't be her. The odds were one in a million that it would be her. Still the evoking of her name in a tropical paradise felt right. “They want to meet?”

“Yep. You going to get dressed or what?”

“Give me a minute.”

***

“You look beautiful!” Joi whispered.

Zuri fixed her head wrap, known by her people as a Bakoua. The cloth kerchief circled the top of her head, tied down flat with a neat bow to the right of her head. Her mother had taught her the art of kerchief bow, past down from days of slavery, as a little girl. She fashioned the scarf nicely like a ceremonial crown. It matched her traditional madras. The hand-sewn dress of light cotton was royal blue with golden cross pattern designs. The peasant sleeves were drawn down from her shoulders and the front bodice cupped and covered her heavy bosom tastefully. The material was ridged and tight around her petite midriff, which made the long skirt flare sweetly from her hips. Before the floor length mirror, Zuri turned. The light fabric swirled at the ankle.

“You think I look okay, I was trying to decide between this one and the red one.”

Joi had chosen a equally beautiful madras. It was emerald green with gold stripes, minus the bakoua. She handed Zuri the pair of large golden hoop earrings she had asked to borrow. “You look fine. You always did when you dressed up. What's going on with you, girl? You've been getting ready for the past forty-five minutes. It's a business meeting. You trying to seduce that hottie executive?”

Zuri bristled. “Of course not!” she snapped, piercing the hoops into her lobes. “Are they up? I mean are they down there?”

"I called that Elliot creep, he said they will meet us."

"Creep? Why is he a creep?" Zuri asked curiously, sitting to put on her anklet, then her sandals.

"He's just that icky kind of man. You know what I mean. The kind that's got a fetish for island girls or something. Thinks he's smooth. No worries, he's not the decision maker though. When he visited, he paraded around père as if he were."

Zuri chuckled. Her mind wasn't quite in the conversation. Last night had been strange but enlightening. Her original plan to go straight for it by offering herself up to Christophe to gain some leverage needed to be amended. Instead she'd teach Christophe Montague a very deserved lesson. “Has JP prepared everything?”

"He has a spread fit for a King. Oh and mère called this morning. Père is already asking about this meeting. He disapproves of us meeting without him present. Zuri, you know how prideful he is. If he finds out about the merger, he may not be happy. You need to explain yourself and get his approval.”

“There's no time for that. Père will just have to trust me. I'll call mère and explain everything to her.”

“Zuri, wait. What are we going to call you?”

“Huh?”

“We can't say Baptiste, this little plan of yours. So what is your name?”

“Oh, I'll take Dumont, mère's name.”

“Are you sure that this plan of yours will work? I still don't understand it.”

“No. But what choice do we have? Let's go.”

***

Christophe strolled out through the open doors to a terrace prepared for morning brunch. The sounds of the ocean and smell of the sea carried in through the open walkways. He passed a few guests, noticing them dressed for early morning swims. Everything about the Oasis appeared calm and serene. But his heart was pounding in his chest.

Zuri? Was it his Zuri? He couldn't decide on whether that would be good or bad news. Yes, he wanted to see her again. But the idea that he would never seemed plausible. Slowly the pieces of the puzzle began to fit. She was West Indian. She was a college student, and this was her home.

"Check it out! Damn, I love the food here!" Elliot said, wagging a boiled red lobster at him and dropping it on his plate. He heaped oyster, shrimp, baked fish along with eggs, bacon and sliced fruit. Christophe just wanted a pot of coffee. A tall dark skinned man dressed in a chef's garb with long flowing dreadlocks tied behind his head approached.

"Bonjour."

"Bonjour." Christophe said.

"Je m'appelle Jean-Paul. Please call me JP. I will be your personal chef during your stay." He extended his hand.

Christophe shook it. "Nice spread. Is all this for us?"

"Oui." Jean-Paul looked over to Elliot who now juggled two plates. He gave a nod to a staff member standing off to the side and the person ran over to offer to carry his cousin's food to the table, while he finished. "We have three other dining terraces prepared for the guest. The Baptiste's wanted this one private for your meeting."

"Baptiste?" Christophe thought that name sounded familiar. He opened his mouth to inquire about Zuri and stopped. She emerged. Her eyes fastened to his. She moved gracefully out of the doors looking like a goddess. Her petite figure was wrapped in a beautiful blue and gold dress with her hair pinned behind a head wrap that fanned out to the right side of her head in a decorative display. She gave him a gracious smile and he swallowed, hard.

"Bounjour Monsiuer Montague... at last we meet," she said as she approached.

Christophe blinked several times. Maybe it wasn't her. No it was her! Maybe she didn't remember him? No. No. Look at how she's looking at you. Oh yes, she remembers. How could she not? He held her stare, barely. His face and neck burned hot as conflict and shame rose in him like a wave of lava. Zuri extended her small hand, dainty with slender fingers. What was he to do and say?

"Well, hello ladies," Elliot spoke for him. Zuri lowered her hand with a frown. She must think I'm an idiot or a cruel bastard for not shaking her hand. F*ck, she caught me off guard. He could barely breathe, let alone touch her.

The ladies gave a sweet nod to Elliot. Zuri dismissed Christophe altogether and spoke directly to Elliot. "I see you've started breakfast. Please help yourself. Shall we?" Zuri walked away toward the table. A staff member raced ahead to draw back her chair as if she was some island queen and then the chair of her sister. It had to be her sister. Equally beautiful, they shared the same features. Christophe shook off his shock and composed himself. He followed and took a seat, one that put him directly across from Zuri.






Why is he glaring at me? As if I don't belong here. Who the hell does he think he is? Zuri fought back her disenchantment over his reaction. She wasn't sure what she expected. Maybe he'd show just a spark of regret or desire for what he passed on. Instead she got a blank, almost hostile glare. She worked on her composure, making sure to never let him see her frown. As she ordered for herself, and coffee was brought to the table, she noticed the other man in their company. His name was Elliot. He was handsome, with blondish brown hair. He had clear grey eyes and a lopsided smile similar to Christophe's. But that's where the attraction ended. The man behaved like a starved child. He wolfed his food down. She doubted he chewed. Sauce dripped from his chin as he munched on greedily. She slipped Joi a look. Her sister smirked and nodded she saw it too.

"So! We came early. Surprised you didn't we!" he exclaimed. "I apologize but my cousin... uh, Christophe is a busy man. So we had too. The place looks good," Elliot smiled, dabbing at his chin and swallowing.

Zuri's gaze moved back to Christophe. He didn't have that stricken look anymore. Now eyes of blue sapphires were piercing with intensity. She tried again at diplomacy. "Is this your first time here, to Martinique?"

"Yes." he said, with a slow smile.

"Then you are in for a treat. We, Mrs. Baptiste and I, have a wonderful plan to help you acquaint yourself with understanding our island customs and the services the Oasis offers to their guests."

"Aren't you two related?" Elliot blurted, wagging his fork at them both. Zuri spoke but kept her eyes trained on Christophe. "No. My name is Zuri Dubois. I work for the Baptiste. I will represent them in these affairs."

All traces of amusement faded from Christophe's smile. He seemed to harden at her news. He looked at Joi for a long moment then to her. Did he remember Joi from the hotel? Did he know she was lying? She felt herself shrink into her seat. If he called her on her lie, then everything was ruined. Maybe she should have told the truth.

"Well I'm sorry for your father’s troubles," Christophe said to Joi. Zuri almost exhaled in relief. "I'm told he's ill?"

"He is. But he's recovering. Merci, Monsieur Montague."

"Can we speak alone?" Christophe asked Zuri. "Now."

Zuri could feel every eye in the room switch to her, including Jean-Paul who stood near the buffet. She gave Christophe a polite nod. A staff member pulled out her chair and she rose. Christophe was out of his seat in one shot marching for the door.

"How about you and I go for a tour. I want to see all of the resort," Elliot said to Joi, wiggling his eyebrows.

Zuri noticed how Joi forced a pleasant smile to her face. "I'd be happy to show you the Blue Oasis."

Elliot licked his lips, looking her over. "I can't wait."

Zuri didn't bother to comment before she walked out. Her sister could handle herself better than she could. After all she was about to confront Christophe. He fell just a step behind her when she passed him. If she stopped abruptly he would be all over her. She didn't say a word. Neither did he, thankfully. The manager’s office behind the reception desk was the only option. Keeping her composure as hotel heiress, she greeted several guest before leading him inside.

"Surprise to see you again, Zuri." Christophe said in a tight controlled voice, before he closed the door.

"I'm sure you are. What has it been, four years?" Zuri asked. She opted for distance. She tried to walk around his imposing blockade to the desk and chair that would give her dominance. This was her territory after all. Christophe, however, countered her move by taking a step left. She was stopped in her tracks. Face to face with him now she had no choice but to look up. Even her dream didn't compare to standing so close. The air in the room tasted thick with tension. She struggled to remain poised, but she teetered between rage and shame. The man thought she had been some whore who seduced him.

"What's with the lie out there?" he asked and the question bulldozed her inner thoughts. Her mind snapped aware.

“I beg your pardon?” Zuri bristled.

"Zuri Dumont? That’s a lie. I know who you are. You think I wouldn't remember you?"

Zuri pressed her lips together. “I said Dubois,” she mumbled. She was busted. Christophe is the head of a billion dollar empire. Surely he couldn't be easily fooled. Her mind failed her on a plausible excuse.

"Are you married?" he queried.

Zuri thought to say yes. It would put her on better ground with him. But somehow another lie to cover a poorly crafted one would just dig herself a deeper hole. She wasn't that deceptive.

Christophe crossed his arms. He took a step forward and Zuri took a step back. "Are you?"

"No"

"Then why are you playing games again with me? Again."

"Again? I never played any games with you. I—"

"I saw you. The morning after you spent the night with me. Joi's your sister, isn't she? The sister whose room number you forgot after a few drinks. For once be honest with me."

"Oh, please. This isn't about manipulating you. "

"Isn't it? You knew I was coming."

"Right?" She threw her hands up in defeat. She dropped them to her hips. "I planned for my father to get sick and you to come here to steal my company!"

"You knew who I was. I'm sure of it. You didn't look the least bit surprised to see me. Smells like a set up to me, sweetheart."

"Get over yourself," Zuri snapped.

"You set this little meeting up. Why pretend that we don't know each other when we clearly do."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" Zuri crossed her arms. "Here's the truth Monsieur Montague. I dropped my father's name for my mother's so I wouldn't bring any shame to my family."

Christophe laughed. "Shame? Are you kidding me?"

"Contrary to what you think, the women of my family don't throw themselves at men. I'm disgusted by what I did four years ago. Even more disgusted that I did it with you!"

That sly smile, spread over his handsome face, soon faded. Ah? So now he wasn't so confident in his superiority. Good. Zuri wanted him to know that he was no dream after the way he treated her. He was more like her waking nightmare. "I lowered myself with you because of alcohol."

"You weren't complaining," he sneered.

"Like I said, my lack of judgment was because of the booze," she snapped back. "My sister Joi and JP don't know who you are. I was hoping to find a way to keep it as such. After all, my priority isn't this reunion    . It’s the Blue Oasis. My hotel."

Christophe stepped away from her. She watched him pace a tight circle. Why was he so agitated? If she meant nothing, this coincidence should mean even less. He was a strange man with his nightly whiskey drinking and sad eyes. She wished she could erase their history so she wouldn't be so curious over his hot and cold manner.

Christophe stopped pacing. For a minute Zuri feared he'd heard her thoughts. But the guarded look in his eyes said differently. It was the same look he gave her the night he chased her from his room. "I shouldn't have accused you of... whatever. I was wrong to imply that you were dishonest."

Was that an apology? He really did suck at being a decent guy. Zuri watched the color return to his cheeks. The distrust still remained in his eyes. But at least he knew better than to verbalize it. She was busted. Fine. She sure as hell wouldn't allow the jackass to think she was trying to deceive him out of some misguided need to be near him. Forget that.


"Okay, let's start again. You're Zuri Baptiste."

"I am," she said, with the upward toss of her chin. "Daughter of Claude and Nannette Baptiste and the owner of the Blue Oasis."

"I'm Christophe—"

"No. You're Stephan Christophe Montague and you want to destroy the Oasis. If we're going to be truthful, then let's start with you and your motives, not mine."

"That's a bit dramatic. I have no intention of destroying anything." Christophe frowned.

"Really? Because I've heard what your company does to small vacation resorts like ours. Hell even the big boys can't keep Montague from draining them dry and turning them into some commercial clone of your franchise. Besides, Monsieur Montague, I know you're not here for the sunshine." Zuri was sure that she came off a bit snide. Not on purpose. He just inspired her to be a bitch.

"This is business, Zuri. How was I to know that the Oasis would lead me to you?"

Zuri didn't believe in coincidence. There was something cosmically wrong with the way she and Christophe were connected. Either he was there to be her ally or enemy in her crusade to save her father's pride and joy. There would be no in between. And since experience taught her he wasn't one for compassion or understanding, she was pretty sure he was the enemy. "Even if you had no tie to me, it wouldn't change who you are and what your company does. I'm trying to save a business my father built with his bare hands. You're here to take it from him."

Christophe said nothing to her accusation. No witty comeback. That made her heart sink. If he had said he didn't want to take the Oasis, she would have felt better about her chances to gain an alliance with Montague. His silence filled her with dread.

Zuri had to regain control. What could she possibly gain by antagonizing the man? She closed her eyes and let go a slow breath. When they opened, she saw him watching her. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something. Maybe an explanation or better yet an apology for the way he treated her. But his mouth closed as well. He wasn't worth the energy.

"I shouldn't have misrepresented myself. For that I—" She almost let go an apology, but her pride refused her permission. "The fact is Monsieur Montague, you are here to buy my company, and I'm here to make sure you understand the resort business in Martinique is unlike the ones Montague run."

"We own resorts in Dominica and Guadalupe," he snorted. "And your position isn't one of enlightenment, Zuri. You want something else."

"Martinique is different than Dominica and Guadalupe!" Zuri seethed. She bit down on the inside of her jaw to keep from saying more. Again her anger was inspired by his smugness. She really couldn't stand him. "You may have heard of paradise, but Madinina is paradise personified. The Blue Oasis isn't some cash cow."

"Evidently," Christophe chuckled.

Zuri clenched her small hands into fists. "But make no mistake. Only the sophisticated and top crust of society grace our doors. La crème de la crème. Nous sommes les mieux. Which means we are different than what you are used to, Monsieur. And if your motivation is only profit, then it would be wise of you to recognize our differences now. I think it only fair that you allow me the opportunity to present my offer."

"What offer? You're bankrupt," Christophe scoffed.

Zuri wanted to smack him. "We are not bankrupt. We have some financial..."

"Bankrupt. I'm dealing with the Blue Oasis collectors not you. If saving the resort is your heart’s desire, then you have two weeks to pay off your debts and send me on my way."

"You like this, don't you? Coming here and acting all smug and superior," Zuri said, despite her vow not too.

"Why would I? Do you really think so lowly of me?"

"I don't think of you at all," she said.

Christophe blew out a deep breath. "This isn't working. Let's talk about what happened between us. Clear the air."

"Let's not talk, period. You're dealing with my collectors, remember? Monsieur Montague, you are welcome to explore the resort on your own. I'll speak with the bank as you suggested. Enjoy your stay." She stepped around him and went to her sister's desk. She sat down with ease, making sure to maintain control. "Close the door on your way out."

Zuri didn't have to look up to see he hadn't moved. She could feel the heat in his glare. But she wouldn't take the bait. She'd already done and said enough. It would be best if he just got out of her sight. Things had deteriorated to the point of disaster. There was no way she could work with this man or convince him to help her save her company. Finally, she did glance up. "What? What do you want?"

"I was wrong to insult you, to talk to you the way I did that night in Chicago. I've wanted to say that to you for years."

"You can save it. I don't care. And let's be honest, Monsieur Montague. Neither do you."

"Stop calling me that! You know my name."

Zuri smirked.

Christophe wiped his hand down his face. He dropped his hands into his trouser pockets. He stood there staring at her. What else was there to say?

"Is there more?" she asked.

Christophe stormed out. Zuri sucked down a deep breath. It was worse than she thought. There would be no way to raise the money she would need in two weeks to stop the sale. What was she going to do? She sat forward and placed her elbows on the desk. She couldn't give up. There had to be better leverage to use.

***

It was a disaster. Zuri provoked him and he'd done the same. Their history fueled her contempt and put him on the defense. If he had known she was here, he'd been better prepared. Instead he f*cked up, royally. Christophe walked through the Oasis. The open lobby led to the outdoor bars and terrace. He wasn't headed to any place in particular. But soon, he found himself on the beach. The ocean with its vast majesty glistened as far as his eye could see. In the distance was a cruise boat. Jet skiers and parasailing tourists frolicked over the turquoise waves. Bikini clad beauties bronzed their skin on beach blankets with large hats and sunglasses to shield their faces. He stood on the hot sand under a sun spawned from hell, taking in the serenity. When he glanced back to the mountainous landscape, he had to admit that Zuri was right about the Oasis. It truly was located on a fertile spot of beauty on the island.

He smiled. She was different; she had a lot more spunk than he remembered. Christophe couldn't deny how beautiful he found her. In fact, she was far more striking than he remembered. Finding her here again was the best stroke of luck he had in a long time.

There was a big problem. She hated him. Christophe had been use to being unpopular but not so much with the ladies. He had once believed it was the Montague name that explained why she ended up in his arms after a night of drinking. How ironic that his name is one of the reasons she despised him now. He heaved a heavy sigh, letting his eyes sweep the people running in and out of the warm waves drifting along the shore. He wanted to know more about her and why she haunted him all these years. More importantly, why she shared the night with him and gave him the most special part of her. She said it was booze, but it sure as hell didn't feel like it. He chewed over an idea. He wasn't quite done with Zuri Baptiste yet.

***

"Hello, Mère. How is he?"

"Bonjour ma fille. Don’t be upset, but we had a setback last night." Her mother spoke in the delicate manner that made Zuri's heart race. She felt her chest seize with tightness.


"Quoi? Père? Non—"

"Some numbness," Nannette quickly added to calm Zuri. "He complained of losing feeling in his side again. The doctors were here this morning. Il fait bien. He's okay. They are monitoring him closely. He's resting, so, well he just needs time to heal, Zuri. He's been pushing himself."

"Are you sure, mère? I'm so worried about him."

"He's strong, Zuri. We know this. Don't be worried. He will be okay."

"What brought it on? Do they know?"

Her mother was silent. Zuri knew the answer. "He's worried about the Oasis, isn't he?"

"You know how he is. He doesn't like the idea of business matters being out of his hands. He's stubborn. He wants you to work with Detrick."

Zuri scoffed. "Detrick Chevalier has no interest in saving père’s companies!" She closed her eyes. This was the worst news ever. She had to do something drastic to keep Christophe Montague and their collectors from pushing her father into an early grave. "I'm making progress. Tell him when he wakes that I have a plan and it will work. Tell him that all is not lost."

"What does that mean? What kind of plan?"

"Trust me, mère. I will be in touch."

"Oui ma chérie, talk to you soon. I love you."

"à bient?t."

Zuri set the phone on the receiver. With her hand to her mouth, she dropped back in her painful silence for a long moment, trying to decipher what her mother hadn't shared. Her father wasn't well and her mother was scared. That was her reality. She pushed up from the chair, resigned to what she would have to do. She would find Christophe Montague and make him an offer he couldn't refuse.

When Zuri left the office, she found Danielle and Francine overwhelmed by a line of arriving guests. She counted thirteen in total. This was the one time when less was more. Too many guest and their services will slack off.

"Are you two okay?" Zuri asked her counter manager.

Danielle gave her a curt nod and returned her attention to the man detailing his wishes to her in broken English. Zuri made a quick exit. She needed to focus on her immediate problem, Christophe. He was going to listen to her. She headed for the terraces. And it didn't take her long to find him standing on the beach. He stared at the sea. Zuri thought of peace bartering words. But there were none. What could she do to get the bastard to hear her out?

Christophe turned from the ocean and headed back to the Oasis. His gaze lifted as he climbed the stairs and focused on her. Zuri chewed on her bottom lip.

***

The last person he expected to see so soon was Zuri. But there she was. Christophe didn't think of himself as a cruel man. Of course he had compassion for her problems. But how were her issues his fault? He didn't mismanage the resort or cause her father's stroke. Hell, he didn't proposition her the night she gave herself to him. He knew he lacked some of the social patience to woo her to seeing him as less of a threat. But he had no intentions of walking away until he figured out why she affected him so strongly.

"I was coming to look for you," he said. "You will show me the Oasis, from its guest services to your financial reports. The ones you keep from the bank. I want to know what your true spend is on a daily basis. I won't waste my time on arguing with you. I'm here because—"

"Okay," she said softly.

Christophe stumbled over the rest of his words. "Okay?"

"I was wrong to attack you personally earlier. It was unprofessional of me. Tonight you will be my special guest at our own version of vaval," she said sweetly. "I can show you hospitality."

"What is this vaval?"

"It's what's we call Carnivale here in Martinique. My hotel gives a much smaller and private version once a week for the guests. Music, rum and the best foods, this side of Mount Pele welcomes you to the Caribbean. You will enjoy it. Consider me the elected Queen Mother." she gave him a playful bow.

Zuri lifted her soft brown eyes under dark lashes and Christophe could barely maintain a coherent thought. He had the nagging urge to touch her.

"Bienvenue." She slowly rose from her bow. "How about we start with a personal tour of the resort? I'd love to show you the private chateau’s or what the Americans refer to as bungalows. The spa services are limited this week, but I can arrange a special one for you."

Christophe studied her for the trick. She was definitely up to something. When she batted those large round eyes of hers, he found it hard to object. Zuri was quite beautiful, and it had been some time since he desired a woman. He'd have to be made of granite not to soften with her standing so close. "Okay, sure. I'd like that."

"Bien, shall we?"

Christophe fell in step with her. She led him along the shaded walkway and pointed out the private chateau’s circling and forming a half horseshoe around the golden sands of the beach.

"If you haven't noticed, Martinique carries a very distinct air of sophistication, thanks to our French heritage. Do you know that the world thinks of Martinique as the Caribbean equivalent to Paris?"

"I've heard."

"Have you?" she asked. "Ah yes, Montague is based in France, right? Are you French?"

Christophe bristled. He wondered how she would respond to his disdain for their shared culture? He wouldn't explain his mommy issues to her. She'd probably think of him as some head case. Christophe decided to change the subject. "I thought you were mostly proud of your Creole West Indian and African heritage?"

Zuri paused. He liked surprising her. She really didn't think much of him. She gave him a small smile and he hoped it was genuine. "Yes, we are. Very much so. You can see it in our food, our language, and our customs. This is what I was trying to explain about the Oasis. It's not just a place to sleep and play at the beach. My family offers a taste of Martinique from the cultural aspect, and travelers prefer that experience."

Christophe wondered how the Blue Oasis had reached it’s financial ruin if this place were truly every traveler’s paradise. The hurricane had reeked havoc on the island, but from what he read, her father had expanded his franchise far beyond its worth.

She finally circled back through to where his suite was. "Monsieur Montague I—"

"Zuri, my name is Christophe, sweetheart. Use it."

She nodded. "Apologies, Christophe. I need to meet with my sister and staff. How about you take the time to relax. The festivities tonight are sure to be exhausting."

Before the actions of his hands registered, he found himself reaching to grasp her arm to delay her from leaving. Zuri stiffened, but she kept the same pleasant smile to her face. "Don't forget access to your records. I'm assuming you have some system I can log into to review them, or maybe you can run a report for me?" If he could offer her any help, he needed to know what type of management they truly had for this place. "I want to see how you manage your affairs. It may help me understand why the Oasis is in jeopardy."

"Oui, of course," she said, withdrawing from his touch. Christophe watched her walk off. Suddenly he had something to look forward too.