[Invitation to Eden 20.0] The Island of Eden by Lauren Hawkeye Read Free Book Online Page A

revenge.
    I have the key to it, the literal key, in my hand.
    The Bayside Marina, where I am currently standing, moors over a thousand boats, every type of boat imaginable. From luxury yachts that cost more than I make in three years, to boats that I would hardly even call a dingy. For my purposes I need something in between—a
    boat that can take me about five hundred miles off the coast to a small private island called Eden. And I just happen to have a key to one.
    I walk down the galley to the electronic keypad that will let me into the actual marina.  I have the code, have had it for years, ever since I once drank a yuppie ex literally under the table, after which he confessed an awful lot of his secrets, including the code to get to his boat.
    No, I didn’t steal his keys. I’m not that crazy. I’d just been bored.
    I did, however, steal my father’s keys this afternoon... the ones to his boat. He owns four, so I don’t think he’ll miss this one. At least that’s how I’m justifying it to myself.
    Keying in the code, I push open the door and walk down the dock to slip 52. My bag weighs a bit on my shoulder, but I figure it’s the consequence of what I’m about to do and not the actual weight of what I carry inside. Heaven knows I’ve disobeyed my father—hell, we butt heads on a daily basis—but I’ve never gone this far.
    But he just won’t listen. I know I’m onto something with this Eden place. I’ve heard too many rumors... and you know what they say about smoke and fires, right?
    And these fires are hot .
    I first heard whispers about Eden five months ago, so quiet that now I can’t even remember where they came from. Probably I’d been hooked when I’d discovered how hard it was to find information on the place—a secretive private island, owned by a Greek billionaire who’d all but disappeared a decade earlier? It sounded like a soap opera, and there’s a reason that people get hooked on those things for thirty years and more.
    One particular rumor spoke of a big time movie star who’d tried to buy a vacation package there, only to be rather rudely turned away—that’s right, the little island in the Bermuda Triangle was invitation only.
    Well... I was hooked.
    And then... talk of BDSM dungeons and secret desires and wish fulfillment of any imaginable thing filled my ears. No one who left there told the same details—it was though they were each visiting an entirely different place.
    And then there was the Master. Theodosius Vardalos, heir to a European shipping empire. Once engaged to the very comely Celeste Singer, he’d dropped very determinedly out of the public eye ten years earlier.
    Most sightings of the elusive Greek lately... they’ve been at very exclusive, very private clubs... clubs catering to every kink I’ve ever heard of, and lots that I haven’t. And it gets even stranger... as best as I can find, he stretches out these visits as long as he can, going months and sometimes even a year between them. And he rarely visits the same one twice.
    I’d been lucky enough to find one of his... I guess the term is submissive ... yeah, one of his submissives . Anyway, I’d found one who’d been willing to talk to me.
    She’d never seen him before the night they... oh, let’s call a spade a spade. The night they fucked. Never seen him before, hasn’t seen him since. Hadn’t even seen him during , since he’d worn a hood that covered his face, though the woman had led me to believe that that wasn’t really all that uncommon in the fetish community.
    And she’d given me more details. Details about the man’s kinks, his desires.
    I like to be honest with myself, so I have to admit... I was really intrigued. Why? I have no idea. The idea of letting any of the men I’ve ever been with tie me up and have my way with me? So not happening.
    But the right man?
    Well.
    I’ll have to think about that some more. After I return from my mission. And nothing on this earth is