Trip

If I thought that Mr Garrison had a private jet, I would be tragically wrong. I don't even know why I think he did. Of course, what I really should have expected was that he demanded that we arrive three hours early for our flight, which, by the way was at three in the morning.

All that I had time to do was tell Cage that I was leaving and to tell him that he should avoid any contact with Bellamy and Kalvin. The latter of which I don't want to think about. I've got an idea of what he was talking about but I could never believe that he would betray me like that, and not even let me know. I was going to rescue him for god's sake. And after what Mr Garrison told me I feel even more burned.

Bellamy had the option to get out of the cage, but he decided to stay hoping that I would come to rescue him, and then the keypad would alert Mr Garrison who would come and demand my ideas.

How could he even know of my idea? Personally, I thought that it was a great idea, but my father and the British nobility didn't share my opinion. They laughed me out of the auditorium, my father came by later to tell me to stop thinking and start concentrating on perfecting myself for my husband. Of course, I didn't listen to him, but it still hurt.

Now I'm feeling guilty of suspecting Mr Garrison, and thinking ill of him when the real bad guy was Bellamy.

To make it up to him I bought him a present from my shopping spree yesterday. For me I brought sandals and dresses, shorts and pumps with strappy tops; all of them multi-coloured. For Mr Garrison I brought a pair of black jeans about his size and a grey shirt made of a soft material, bottomed off with a black converse, and topped with an ultra-suave black hat. Knowing him, his suit case is filled with his suits and money. Scratch that, he's sure to have a conservative amount of money in his pockets.

On the plane ride, I dozed off until we stopped at Miami and I was jolted awake as people started disembarking the plane. Mr Garrison marched his way ahead of me to customs while I scurried to keep up and then after a long wait we caught our connecting flight; of course we were in group four. God forbid he ever travels first class.

Something else has been plaguing me... the ring.

Mr Garrison is looking for me; looking for my proposal and it's too dangerous for me to quit yet. It'll look like I'm running.

I did up a letter of my two week notice last night but I'm loath to give it to him. Despite my assumptions he's been a good boss. Eccentric, but business smart. I don't want to hand in my resignation because I'll miss working for him. But this is safer for me and Cage.

Steeling myself in a move of boldness, I turn to him on the plane and hand him the letter. He glances up at me and takes out a pen. "Are you certain?"

"Yes."

"Then your employment with me is terminated with immediate effect." He clicks the pen and as it glides across the paper to form his signature, I can't help but feel sick.

"Immediate?" I ask. I'd hoped that during the two weeks I'd be able to faze him out.

"You'll receive pay for the duration of this trip." He reaches into his crisp suit and removes a letter also; he places it in my hands, his finger-tips touching mine for the briefest of moments. "This is a letter of recommendation."

"Really?" Has he ever done this before, "Thank you so much Mr Garrison."

"We're on a first name basis now," He says, expression softening for a moment, "Angelica." His voice sounds almost teasing.

I grin at him, "Ruspin."

Filled with sudden courage, I touch his hand hoping to get his attention but instead his entire body lurches into the other side of the seat, into the waiting chest of sleeping man next to us.

"Sorry." I choke out, shocked by his adverse reaction.

Watching me from the corner of his eyes he rights himself in his seat; belatedly, I notice that the man carries on sleeping as though a billionaire didn't just ram into him.

Ruspin regains his fortitude, "I don't appreciate people touching me."

In the back of my mind, I wonder why he's opposing to touch, but at the forefront I'm completely flustered. Mr Ruspin Garrison, the cool collected man, acting as he just did... it tends to throw you off your game. So my brain's go-to answer is to screw with the impulses going to my voice box, "Um, bu- I am so sorry. I had no idea you didn't like it, I swear I'll never touch you again, anywhere, no matter how much you beg me to."

Ruspin's lips twitch slightly as sly amusement fills his eyes. "I certainly want you to touch me... certain parts of me."

My mouth tumbles open and he winks at someone. Looking across the aisle from me I see the three men adjacent smirking.

Flushing I turn my back to them, but I'm faced instead with Ruspin's victorious look.

Payback time, "I thought we agreed to wait until you fixed your problem?" I ask sweetly, and the laughter behind me tells me all I need to know.

"The problem was never with me." hoots resound as I resist the urge to send him skydiving out of the emergency exit.

Having nothing to say to that I glare at him and stare straight ahead. Then for some reason my lips twitch until they force their way into a blow-out smile.

"I didn't know you were that devious a boss." I say with a smirk.

He doesn't reply, just glances at me.

"Not boss."

"Not anymore."

"And glad about it." he says, straight faced.

My smile fades slightly. "Yeah, me too." careful to keep my eyes off of him, I sigh and close my eyes, prepared to pretend to sleep.

Warmth engulfs me and my eyes shoot open as I feel lips pressed against my ear, "Parce que les patrons ne sont pas autorises faire ce." Quickly, I memorise every syllable... google translate and I are going to have a date soon. "I see one of his spies." And by him, I assume he means Michelangelo, "I'm going to kiss you."

I'm going to kiss you. A blinding fog descends onto my mind. I'm going to kiss you.

My heart pounds as I feel his face move from near my ear and moves diagonally upwards. His facial movements are distracting, but his hands are another story entirely, on finds purchase on my waist and the other roams the expanse of my face, over my eyes and on my cheeks... stroking and caressing; leaving a burning trail of passion that I can barely formulate the words to describe, finally latching onto my hair in a possessive manner.

All the while his face is inches from mine, taunting me with it's sharp angles and the spark of desire I see in his eyes. Disregarding his touching rule I plant my hands on his cheeks, surprised at the softness under my palms. When his head dips forward, I manoeuvre mine to meet him halfway.

Our lips meet but there're no sparks, it feels as though I've been submerged into a river of bliss. We don't clash as we do in the office, our lips melt together as though they never want to be separated. He starts off deliberately, purposefully and leisurely licking my lips before his tongue enters the mix. Our kiss goes from sweet and loving to roaring with passion.

Strangely, my tongue is dancing just as fiercely as his. But I don't care, I just want more. Edging my eyes open, I stare at his eyes, which obviously haven't been closed at all. I kiss him back with fervour while daring him to back down. Ruspin closes his eyes slowly as I sigh into his mouth as I remove my hands from his cheeks, sink them into his smooth, sleek hair and twist his head and kiss him back so zealously he gasps and lets out a harsh breath against my mouth.

Slowly, we disengage and I see the desire swarming in his eyes. He leans back casually while I'm almost gasping for air. "That should have convinced them."

My next breath freezes in my lungs, as I realize that it was all for show... all to fool some spies. Discretely, I glance at him only to see him touch his lips briefly and let out a hard breath. Maybe it wasn't all for show. The rest of the rest of the ride is normal, of course, excluding the three pervy guys across from us. Eventually, when they become particularly unruly, Ruspin glares at them causing them to wither in fear.

"What were you going to ask me before?" he demands quietly.

"Oh, I was just wondering where we're staying in this Trinidad place and what exactly we're planning to do."

"Kariwak and treasure hunting."

"Really, where are we treasure hunting?" I turn to him excitedly. A real live treasure hunt and for him to have spent money to get there that treasure must be pretty damn expensive.

He doesn't answer that.

Fine, I'll figure out eventually.

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The entrance to the hotel isn't exactly grand, but has a nice homey feeling, expressed in the intricate wood work of the Amerindian style pillars at the entrance, the automatic door opens for us to enter into the rustically designed reception area. The colour scheme is white and beige with shades of brown.

The receptionist sits on a swivel chair under a thatch roof. Everything looks so calming: the small number of people milling around, the paintings of slavery and plantations just chilling on the wall, the chandlers just minding their own business... until:

"Two bedroom suite, top floor with a foyer." Says Ruspin to the receptionist as the poor bellhop tries to wrangle his bag away from him. I don't have to mention that he's been utterly unsuccessful. "Payment: cash."

The flustered men scramble around and the receptionist glances at me coughing nervously, "Would you like to purchase tickets to our private lake and the waterpark."

On the word purchase, Ruspin's vein beings thrumming and I can tell he's contemplating physical violence... oops. Enacting physical violence more likely, as he uses his duffel bag to knock the bellhop over his head. In conclusion, I can say we definitely do not look as though we're on retreat.

Sighing, I thrust my bags into the bellhop's grasp and he looks at me thankfully. Turning to deal with the next problem just as Ruspin glares at the receptionist and says in a lethal tone, "Does it seem as if I wish to purchase anything?"

Shoving him aside gracefully, I wave away his earlier words, "Of course we'll take them." I say sweetly, hoping to allay any suspicions that my dearest Ruspin might have left them with, regarding our 'retreat'. "And don't mind him, he gets cranky when he has to fly."

The man nods slowly and enters the information swiftly. "Room 706 on floor 7, here's the key card." He says as though he can't wait for us to leave.

As we walk to the elevator, Ruspin, hauling his duffle bag shots the door before the bellhop can enter. Turning in the elevator I glance at Ruspin with a smirk, the bellhop's probably on the second elevator. "You're mean."

His only response is to shift the duffle bag to his other hand. When we get to floor seven, I notice that the decoration colours are different. Up here it's multi coloured, more like an endless abstract painting. There's a railing over looking the parking lot and a green carpet splitting into two junctions. There's a sign in the middle stating that rooms 700 – 753 are to the right. So we turn and walk a few paces until we see the golden sign with our room number.

The door seems sturdy enough.

As Ruspin moves to insert his key card, I pluck it from his fingers just as the bellhop starts scurrying down the hallway and swipe it, blocking Ruspin's way.

As much as I feel relieved that I'll be out of harm's way; I'm equally sad because working for him was one of the most fulfilling things I've ever done.

The bellhop takes this opportunity to deposit my bags in the room.

"Why did you have that letter of recommendation ready?" I demand. On the way up I realized that he had no way of knowing that I would resign, especially after his explanations that no one was tortured. I took the two weeks option because I thought that it wouldn't look as though I was in a hurry to leave... so that I could allay his suspicions.

Non-pulsed, he answers, "From the moment I spoke of the energy you knew I was talking about England's princess."

"I may or may not know something about the proposal." I say with a shrug. I may as well play this to my advantage; give him something so that he won't have to find the princess, i.e. me.

Something in his eyes suddenly rears up like a bucking bronco, but before he can get a word out the bellhop whistles over to us. Ruspin shoulders past him and he looks at me expectantly for a tip. I hand him a dollar and then step into the room and lock the door.

Ruspin hasn't even shifted from his spot a few paces away from the door.

"Explain."

"Where are we going treasure hunting?" I ask.

"I haven't finalized the location, but we shall travel via boat."

"Well then, how much of the idea do you know?" I ask

"I obtained page one of a five page document." He says, clearly not pleased by this. "Most of it was the people it was addressed to and the first paragraph."

Back in my mind I remember that he told me that energy was a half of his plan to become king. "So you know it's about harvesting energy from fault lines and using a siphon or energy converter to change the pressure build-up, which is potential energy, and convert it into other forms?"

I go on for a while, telling him about the energy converter and how I don't remember exactly how to build it. That's a lie, but I can't seem too knowledgeable and besides he's got a brilliant mind... he can figure it out.

By the end he's filled with emotions. They don't show on his face of course, but his eyes gleam.

"I appreciate the information." He says softly.

"You're welcome." I say, grinning broadly at him. This is as close to polite as he's ever been to me.

He nods and grabs his bag before marching towards a door.

I take the opportunity to properly examine the room. to the left of the door is a fully loaded kitchen, including a stove, microwave and dishwasher, to the right is a washing machine attached to the wall. Directly ahead are the sofas, facing a huge flat screen and the sunlight from the adjacent curtains tells me that's where the porch is. I hoist my bag and retrace Ruspin's steps to the door, hopefully leading to the bedroom.

It does. There are two queen sized beds segregated by a night-table with a lamp. On the side of each bed is a cupboard. I see Ruspin's bed closer to the Jacuzzi... holy moly, there's a Jacuzzi! I take the one nearer the alternate porch entrance.

Ruspin is nowhere to be found. So I go to the door after the Jacuzzi. I open it, glance inside and slam the door shut, covering my singed eyes. Firstly, the room is the bathroom. There's a shower with a glass wall, a bathtub with no shower curtains, a sink, a toilet sans door and of course in it is the newest edition to the room: Ruspin.

When he emerges a minute later, I kindly inform him, "You may want to lock the connecting door."

"You may want to knock."

I glare at him, "You ready to go explore?"

"The boat will be ready in a couple of days."

I huff at him. "We're on an island with a rich history and different foods."

He shrugs.

Grabbing my purse I start marching towards the door, "I'll see you later then."

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Tropical fruit is the bomb.

I mean, strawberries and blueberries will forever hold a place in my heart but the silk bananas, avocadoes, fried plantain, pommcythe, pommerac and all the others are wondrous in their own regard. So much so that I bought a pound of each. Much to Ruspin's displeasure.

Maybe it would have been better if he had stayed at the hotel.

All he does is give me this disappointed glare that doesn't affect me. It's not as though I'm spending his money.

As we're leaving the market area a see the food cart across the street and it smells good. Bounding across the road I hail the vendor, "What are you selling?"

"You ah foreigner huh?" he says, leaning against the side of his van, "this is the country's national food."

"I'll take one." I say, then I glance at Ruspin, who has materialized next to me. "Make that two."

As he shifts behind the grill, pouring a floury batter he calls, "Ya want pepper?"

"A little."

The food is comprised of a crunchy fried batter with saucy channa in it's folds. My first taste makes me moan in ecstasy.

"This is great." I tell the vendor.

Then I glance at Ruspin to see he has completely frozen one hand covering his mouth.

"You don't like it?" I ask, shocked. I mean, his taste buds are still alive right, even if they weren't before this food should have been enough to resurrect them.

His eyes are almost watering. Did the food give him some sort of Godly intervention?

"Too spicy fuh you?" the man asks, almost teasingly.

Ruspin shoves it into my hands, "Enough dallying."

But I don't miss the way he breathes rapidly as though trying to evacuate the pepper from his mouth.

On the way back I spot some mango trees and force Ruspin to check them out with me.

We sit under the tree across from a small pond and eat the yellow, gooey fruit. Ruspin refuses to touch it, on the grounds that it's insanitary, to which I reply that it's nature. Giving up on voluntarily feeding him, I shove a bit into his mouth as he opens it to spew his next argument.

He either has to chew it or spit it out, he decides to do the latter.

"Tell me how it tastes."

"Bien." He says.

"What."

"Well enough."

"Please tell me what language that is."

He pauses for a moment. "Le Français."

French. Wonderful... Cage knows French. He can be my personal dictionary.

"What did you say to me on the plane?" I ask. If he's in a telling mood, I may as well take advantage. Behind my back, I manoeuvre my phone out of my pocket and set it to record.

"Mais parce que les patrons ne sont pas autorises faire ce" he repeats.

I grin at him, "You sound sexy speaking French."

I don't know who's more stunned at the statement, me or him. His mouth drops open.

"Merci, personne n'a jamais dit que." He says quietly, leaning closer an intense expression on his face, it's not rage but it's something akin, "J'hereusement que vous ne me voyez comme je me vois."

Like a dream the words flow from his mouth, entrancing me, I'm unconsciously leaning closer just to hear his harsh whisper more clearly.

Sense thankfully prevails. He could be cursing my name and I'm here doe-eyed and swooning for him. He probably wants me to kiss him... no strings attached, but I can't do no strings.

Jumping up with a new vigour to escape, almost bolting away I my haste, when my foot hits a rock and I go sprawling. Sinking actually, submerging in the water and worst of all, Ruspin stands a few feet away from me, witnessing the entire experience.

Terrifyingly, he wades into the murky pond water. In his suit! With a murderous look glinting back at me, I start backing away, thinking that I've offended him in some way.

Grasping my hands he says, "People are coming. I heard guns." His grip tightens on mine as I finally hear the sounds. "Take a deep breath."

My eyes widen as I realize his plan, he shoves me under the water; only it isn't in a murderous rage...