Captive In Eden. Karen Van Der ZeeЧитать онлайн книгу.
middle held a miniature version of the hotel and grounds that would be constructed in Ecuador. Maps, photographs, blueprints and artist renderings were displayed on the walls.
Twenty-five acres of primal rainforest would be cleared for the project. Roads would be built, hiking paths hacked through the jungle, a boating dock built at the river’s edge.
Wealthy tourists would flock to the hotel from where they could discover the miracle that was the rainforest, and gawk at the indigenous people living there, who, of course, would gawk back.
Having had a good look around, Sky left the room. Sean was deep in conversation with two other men, smiling and looking animated.
Sean was handsome, charming and smart. She’d liked the charming part of him the best, at least when she’d first met him a few months ago. Lately it was beginning to annoy her. He liked being charming a little too much. The smart part had some problems too, as far as Sky was concerned. She hadn’t immediately noticed this, but it had become more and more obvious that Sean was manipulative and controlling, character traits that made her want to run screaming for the woods.
During the drive over to the party, the atmosphere had soured as soon as she had mentioned her trip to Mexico. He had stiffened and waves of disapproval had billowed forth from him.
‘A month?’ he’d said, incredulous.
‘Yes.’
‘Sky, you can’t leave for a whole month. I need you.’
This was supposed to make her feel good—loved, wanted.
It made her furious.
She didn’t get angry easily and she’d stared rigidly out of the car window trying to stay calm, trying to find the humour in the situation. But Sean was being selfish and it simply wasn’t humorous.
She watched him now as he was being his charming self, feeling her heart contract. It was going wrong. Again it was going wrong. Again there was that terrible sense of loneliness at the realisation that she had to do her dreaming and hoping by herself.
With Josh she had shared everything and together they had planned and dreamed. He had thought everything she did with her camera was magic; she’d thought everything he wrote with his pen was magic.
She sighed and took a drink from her champagne. She was twenty-seven years old and she was never, never going to find another man she could love. She was going to end up sad, single and childless—lonely and unfulfilled. She looked down at the bubbly champagne in her glass and grinned at her own melodrama. Sometimes, making fun of her own fears made them easier to face.
Still, eight years was a long time to be alone, a long time to be lonely. None of the other men she had known since Josh had been able to fill up the emptiness. Maybe something was wrong with her. Maybe subconsciously she picked the wrong men, for whatever perverse, hidden reason.
The large French doors stood open and the outside gardens beckoned. The wildlife outside was much more interesting than the wildlife inside, so she slipped out into the cool evening air.
It was a lovely spring night with lots of stars and a half-moon. Discreetly hidden outdoor lights illuminated the gardens, creating a romantic, fairytale atmosphere. Being outside made her feel better. Cocktail parties were not exactly her scene, and certainly not this kind. The people in the room represented a lot of power and wealth and the very air was charged with it. It was a bit intimidating, especially when you were more used to communing with spiders and squirrels than with people. She was afraid she’d say the wrong thing to the wrong person. One of her flaws was that her mouth sometimes got away from her. She’d say things before thinking about them. This was not always appreciated, and when she was wrong it was mortifying.
Footsteps came down the path and she recognised Chase Montana. She felt her body tense for no reason that made any sense except that he had a magnetism she reacted to involuntarily. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want to react to this man.
‘Nice night,’ he said, taking a sip from his drink.
‘Yes,’ she said. He was awfully tall. Of course, almost anybody was tall next to her five feet two.
‘Did you see the mock-up?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘What did you think?’ He looked at her with interest, as if it mattered what she thought. It mattered nothing. She was not a potential investor in the project and had no connections with it one way or another. Was he just making conversation?
Not for a minute, came the automatic answer. He was not a man who wasted time making idle chit-chat. He was talking to her for a reason, whatever it was, and what he wanted to know was what she thought of the project.
She hesitated. Watch your mouth, she admonished herself. He glanced down at her and smiled faintly.
‘Go ahead.’
‘It’s going to be a beautiful hotel, and I’m sure the grounds are going to be magnificent.’ This was true enough.
‘But?’
‘I didn’t say but.’
His eyes studied her face. ‘Ah, but there is a but,’ he said slowly. ‘I can see it in your eyes. You do not altogether approve.’
No, not altogether. She scrambled for appropriately polite words.
‘I don’t know all the details and circumstances and I’ve never been to Ecuador. I don’t like giving uninformed opinions.’ Boy, that sounded good. She was proud of herself.
His mouth quirked. ‘Very commendable. However, you do have an opinion?’
‘Of course I have an opinion.’ For some reason, his questions made her uneasy. She sipped her drink and looked off into the shadowed gardens. She was truly making an effort to keep control over her tongue but he was not making it easy.
He looked at her questioningly. ‘Are you going to tell me?’
The man was impossible. She sighed. ‘To tell you the truth, Mr Montana, it bothers me. The hotel is very large. It will hold a lot of people.’
‘The better to make money.’
Irritation flared up inside her. Money. As if that excused everything.
‘Yes. But that’s not what bothers me.’
‘The making money part?’
‘No. There’s nothing wrong with making money. What matters is how, and at what cost, and to whom.’
His eyes narrowed and he studied her for a moment. ‘And you have your doubts as to whether this project will be making money in a responsible manner,’ he stated slowly.
She looked straight into his eyes and threw caution to the winds. ‘Yes. From the information I got from the display, I understand that the hotel will be put in quite an isolated area of primal rainforest. From the photos and that anthropological little blurb on the wall it is obvious that the indigenous people there live very traditional lives and have had little contact with the outside world. Bringing in large numbers of wealthy westerners into a place like that is irresponsible.’ So there, she’d said it. He’d asked for it.
His face was shadowed in the dim light. ‘Rainforests are big tourist attractions these days,’ he commented.
His attitude aggravated her no end. ‘I understand that,’ she said tightly, ‘but a hotel full of people with cameras and video recorders and watches and sunglasses is going to have a big impact on the place and not all positive!’ She took a deep breath. ‘Everywhere in the world we can see the damage tourists do!’ She was off and going. ‘In Kenya the wildlife is suffering because too many tourists disturb their natural living rhythms. Tropical reefs are damaged and fish species become extinct because there are too many divers! We’re wiping out traditional cultures, sometimes entire tribes by introducing them to the joys and comforts of modern civilisation!’
She