“Besides the horse ranch, this is the second most thoughtful gift anyone’s ever given me.” Better than flowers or chocolates, too. Sending professionals to help with this tedious labor makes me feel surprisingly pampered. For someone like me, it’s downright romantic.
“You’re very welcome.” He bows his head.
I bend down, grab my purse from under the table, and produce my keys.
He hands them over to one of the men.
Marus smiles and then looks me over. “Now, let’s see about a dress.”
“I have one at home. It’s not much, but it’ll be faster than—”
“I have something else in mind. Come.” He holds out his hand once more.
I hesitate to take it. “It’s just—I don’t really need new clothes,” I argue politely, “and then there’s the whole trying stuff on. It could take hours to find something that fits right.”
“Please?” he asks sweetly. “It would give me great pleasure to do one more nice thing for you.”
I stare up into those hypnotic blue eyes. I can’t help feeling like I might do anything for him if he promises to never stop looking at me like that. Cherished. Desired. Beautiful. But I’m the new Ginnie. I stand my ground. I won’t give away pieces of myself to people who don’t deserve me. That being said, he really wants to do this. And what’s a relationship without some compromise?
“Okay. But nothing too expensive,” I say.
He gives me a wink. “Your wish is my command, Ginnie.”
“Ha, funny.” I take his hand and make a real wish. I hope trusting my gut is the right thing to do.
Chapter Twenty-One
During the drive in Marus’s black Mercedes, filled with the delicious scent of his citrus cologne and the leather seats, he doesn’t speak much. At least, not to me. He’s on the car’s speaker with some guy named Jim—his assistant, I assume—and some woman named Shayna—Marus’s lawyer?—trying to work out an issue with cargo that’s heading to an island. I would feel peeved over being ignored, but I’m getting a behind-the-scenes look at how Marus operates.
I listen closely to every word. He’s sharp. I’ll give him that. And he knows a lot about export laws and dealing with red tape.
So he hasn’t forgotten everything from his life as Mason McMillan. Because it sounds like just the sort of experience one would get while working for your family’s whisky business. I wonder what else he remembers. Just the things the doctor told him, or more?
“I’m tied up for the next few hours,” Marus says to his people, “but I’ll check in with you both tonight. I want that cargo delivered.” He ends the call and is silent for a long moment.
“Genie problems?”
He doesn’t smile. “More like corrupt customs’ problems. Not all countries operate like the US.”
“Is the island for the man we’re going to see tonight?”
“No, it’s for my inventory. When an island comes up for sale, I buy it, and we get everything set up.” He flashes a glance my way, but keeps his eyes on the road. “You’d be surprised how many people wish for their own private island, and I’m fresh out.”
“Yeah, that’s not weird; you having an inventory of islands. Nope. Not at all.”
“If you’d like one, I’ll probably have a few too many by the end of the year. The new owners usually end up unhappy and leave.”
“Why?” I suddenly imagine myself lying in a hammock, the tropical breeze caressing my skin as I sip a piña colada. Sounds wonderful to me.
“They quickly figure out that some dreams are meant to stay that way. Isolation and solitude is an acquired taste. Even if family or friends join them for a while, the novelty wears off. They begin feeling cut off from the world and end up going back to their old lives. It’s why I make sure any properties are legally owned by my trust with a custodial lease to the person. They get to treat it like their property in every way, but it allows me to manage things—change names on the lease, sell, whatever.”
“What if they stay?”
“Hasn’t happened yet, but if it did, the island is theirs to enjoy until their death.”
“Their families don’t inherit the land.” I remember the fine print on the wish contract.
“No.” His blue eyes are intensely focused on the road. “I changed the rules after the first island owner died of a heart attack. His relatives fought over who got what. I decided that watching families fall apart over greed wasn’t part of my mission. My new policy allows me to sell off idle assets and move cash around when I need it. I get to help more people.”
This is a far cry from my initial impression of Marus being some random loon who follows a bottle around and thinks he’s a genie. He runs his operation like a real company. He just happens to be in the wish-granting business.