Page 80 of The Forbidden Billionaire
“I’ll just put the headlights on,” Caesar says. “I know the rough direction.”
“I’m serious!”
“I have a Helicopter Night Rating,” he tells her, opening the door for her. “Stop worrying.”
She climbs in, still grumbling. I chuckle and follow her, joining her in the back seats. Caesar shuts the door, goes around to the pilot’s side, and gets in.
We all buckle ourselves in, put on our headphones, and adjust our mikes.
“Can everyone hear me?” Caesar asks.
“Yep,” we both say.
He runs through his checks and starts the blades turning. Soon, he’s lifting off the ground, and within a minute or two we’re heading out over Waitemata Harbour.
The sun is low in the sky, and the ocean looks as if it’s made of molten gold and copper. The Sky Tower disappears behind us, and we pass over the motorway that crosses the Harbour Bridge, which is lit by the glow of car headlights.
Beside me, Aurelia is quiet, looking out of the window. Caesar points out a few sights as we pass over them, but he doesn’t say much in between, and so I look out of the window too, lost in thought.
Gradually, the Hauraki Gulf gives way to the rugged Northland coastline. The setting sun reveals undulating hills dotted with sheep, bays and headlands, and flat-topped extinct volcanoes covered in native bush.
Aurelia rests her temple against the window, and I wonder whether she’s dozed off. When I tip my head to see, though, I discover her eyes open. She sees me looking and turns her head, and we study each other for a moment. She doesn’t smile, and as I watch, she swallows hard.
My hand is resting on the seat between us. Slowly, I turn it palm up. She drops her gaze to look at for a long moment. Then she slides her hand into mine, and I curl my fingers around hers.
We sit there like that for the rest of the journey. If Caesar notices, he doesn’t say anything.
The sun is now dipping below the horizon, and the view to the east is sliding into darkness. There’s just enough light to see some of the 144 islands of the Bay when they start appearing, green-topped like emeralds.
Caesar begins to angle the heli down, and says, “Not far now.”
Evermore Island is large enough to support its own town, vineyard, and luxury resort, yet small enough to cross in under half an hour by car. It lies just past the main towns of Russell and Paihia, adrift in the Pacific Ocean. As we approach, I can see the lights of Port Evermore clustered in one corner, and a sprinkle of lights like a necklace circling the edges of the island, a ring of luxury homes for the wealthy.
But it’s the blaze of light from the easternmost edge that draws my attention. Caesar described 35 South as a private coastal estate, and now I can see what he means. A tall building—the main hotel—curves around a huge complex of buildings, villas, and pools, all lit up so they glow in the semi-darkness. North of it is a range of tennis courts; south of it is a long white-sand beach with a private jetty. The rest of the estate is surrounded by a high wall, and I can see the security lights even from up here.
Aurelia exhales, long and slow, and I know she’s seen them, too. She’s going to be safe here. Relief sweeps over me, so strong it makes my throat tighten with emotion.
Caesar speaks into the headphones, announcing our arrival to them, and heads for the large H on the southern side of the complex, some distance from the hotel. He lands the helicopter and switches off the engine and, relieved at the sudden silence, we remove our headphones.
A couple of guys are walking over to us. One, dressed in black trousers and a white shirt, is possibly a member of staff, because he goes around to the back and starts unloading ourcases. The other guy walks toward Caesar’s door. He’s tall and dark-haired with a short beard, dressed in jeans and a light-blue polo shirt. His sharp haircut and large watch suggest wealth without flaunting it.
Caesar gets out while we unbuckle ourselves, and he goes over and shakes hands with the guy. Then they come over and open our door. I climb down and hold up a hand to help Aurelia, and she jumps down beside me.
“Welcome to 35 South,” the guy says. “I’m Gabe.”
“This is my sister, Aurelia,” Caesar says, “and her CPO, Luke Grayson.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Gabriel says, shaking our hands, “although not under the circumstances, obviously. But it’s good to have you here.” He looks down at his polo shirt and scrubs at a streak of dust. “Sorry about my appearance—I was helping unload a shipment of wine from the vineyard.”
“Don’t you have staff to do that for you?” Caesar asks, amused.
“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” Gabriel grins. “Do you want to come in for a bit?”
“No, I’ll head off. My girl’s waiting for me.” He smiles—he must mean Maddie. He gives Aurelia a last hug. “You let me know if you need anything. I can be here in ninety minutes. Okay?”
She nods. “Okay.”
He shakes my hand. “Take care. You know where we are if you need us.”
