The Billionaire's Secret (An Erotic Romance) Page 2

  “No.”

  The interrogators brow twist into a frown and he takes a deep breath. “May I ask why not?”

  “How will that benefit me? Will telling you why be advantageous to me?”

  “Was killing him in the first place advantageous?”

  “Yes, he needed to die.”

  “And that benefits you how?”

  “It doesn’t,” I say, looking the interrogator in his eye. “Not directly. You know, they say there is an exception to every rule. This was the exception, because something far more important than me was in jeopardy, and I wanted to save it.”

  “But you won’t tell me anything else?”

  My head lowers, and a wave of grief washes over me. “I don’t have the right. You will hear it, but not from me.”

  “Then from who?” he asks, tapping his pen against the interrogation table.

  I play with my cuffed hand, rattling the handcuffs against the bars of the table that hold me captive, while picking at the nails of my other hand. “You’ll know when she tells you.”

  My interrogator wasn’t happy with my answers, but it wasn’t my job to make him happy. I stand by everything I said. If anyone would tell the police the details, it wasn’t going to be me, because I had no right. I was guilty, and played a hand in my niece ending up in the situation she did. To tell the interrogator here would be no better than betrayal. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell him, but that I couldn’t tell him. It was a right I did not possess.

  The following day in my cell went just as expected. I sat, or lied in bed, staring at a plain white ceiling, with only the fetid stench of body odor and excrement to entertain me. No books, no electronics, no music. Just me, a cell, and a wall. I’d wanted to read a good detective novel, or a criminal psychology book, but my request were denied. I doubt I would be able to enjoy it with the wailing that went on in the room beside me. Whoever was in that cell, they were throwing a tantrum. My only hope was that they wouldn’t be a nuisance as I tried to get sleep. Then again, sleep was something I would be getting a lot of anyway.

  While locked in my cell, I had time to think about things I normally wouldn’t. My first thought goes to agent Wilson Gray. During my time in the FBI, we had partnered up for a few assignments, and I was well acquainted with him. He always had an interest in me, but I tried to keep my personal and professional matters separate. Either way, I just wasn’t that into him. He was an attractive man, but our personalities were just too incompatible. But…what if he had been the one? What if I had taken an interest in him, and felt that he was someone I could confide in, would things have ended differently? Would I have called the police, or would I have trusted him? Would our little fling have been more than a vanity fuck? I would never know, and the reality of it was that I didn’t care for him.

  I may have been different in my way of thinking, but I was still a woman, and as such, I did fantasize about finding someone who accepted me for my true self, someone who allowed me to throw away the affectation, and who wouldn’t run away at the first sign of difficulty. I sort of found that in my sister, and my niece brought out a side of me that I didn’t know existed. But that love was familial. I wanted romanticism in my life, or at least, I thought about it. But maybe Gray was right, maybe that man didn’t exist, and I was merely allowing fantasy to obscure reality. I don’t know, and even if he did exist, look at where I am.

  The rattling of an iron bar beating against my cell interrupts my nap. “Wake up,” says the officer in a callous voice. The wailing in the room beside me had turned into what seemed like sobs. “Shut up,” the officer barks, banging his bar against the other cell. The voice dies down into mere whimpers, intimidated by the gall of the officer. It was a pathetic sight.

  “What do you want?” I ask.

  “Come with me.” After being cuffed and let out of my cell, the officer takes me to the interrogation room. He pulls out a wooden chair. “Sit down.”

  “Do you have anything softer?” I ask.

  “I said, sit down.”

  I sigh and plant my ass into the uncomfortable chair. The officer removes the cuff from my left hand, and then cuffs my right hand to the table. After doing his job he leaves. “It’s not my fault they rejected your application,” I mumble under my breath.

  A few minutes later, a man of authoritative stature enters. He was a middle aged man who wore a sheriff’s hat and had a desperado mustache; he had a dignified confident look about him, with each stride he took signifying his sense of certainty. He gives me a warm smile; a first in this facility.

  “How are you Ms. Nakatomi?” he asks, in a gruff voice.

  “I’ve been better,” I respond.

  “I’m John Connors, the police chief of this precinct.”

  “Sora Nakatomi.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He puts a bulky folder on the table. “You have impressive records. Straight A student, National Honor Society, Masters in criminal justice in only four years, with a minor in criminal psychology, and a promising FBI agent, or should I say former agent?”

  “Former is more accurate at this point.”

  “No past criminal history, no known mental illnesses, and yet you murdered someone in cold blood, and then surrendered…” he stops himself. “Planned to surrender, but changed your mind?”

  “Fear can do strange things to a person.”

  “We got the full story from your niece and father.”

  “Were they helpful?”

  “Yes, and we investigated the victim. I don’t say this often, but the stuff we found makes me glad someone put him down.”

  “But, it won’t change anything will it?”

  “It’s not up to me, but that isn’t why I’m here.”

  My eyelids lift. “Then why are you here, police chief?”

  “Because I want to see justice in the world, and due to the nature of your crime, you qualify for a secret project we’re running jointly with an influential corporation.”

  I cross my legs. “What does this mean for me?”

  The police chief rests his arms on the table and leans forward. “It means you could have another chance. Sora, you want to see your family again? You have things you still want to experience right?”

  My eyes drop in thought, and I don’t speak. I wanted nothing more than to see my sister and niece again, and the idea that my soul searching, even though I had no idea where to start, would continue, lit a beacon of hope inside of me. “But why me?”

  “Because I feel you deserve it.” He pushes at his eyeglasses. “May I ask you a question?”

  “…Go ahead.”

  “Do you have a lover?”

  What kind of question was that in a situation like this? I don’t know where he’s going with this, but I’ll entertain the thought. “No.”

  “When you see your sister’s daughter, do you think about having your own children?”

  “I’ve thought about it before Rin came into this world, but when she did, I…” I’m at a loss for words. I knew that Rin wasn’t my daughter, she was my sister’s. But when I first saw her as a baby girl, when Christie appointed me her godmother, and I held her for the first time, it was at that moment when I felt an unbreakable connection. I don’t know if it was motherly, but I admit when she would visit me I liked to pretend she was mines. But why? Did I consider Rin my own daughter because the thought of someone breeding with me with the intent of raising a child was so far out that I barely considered it in the realm of possibility? Did the perfect man exist who would want to make and raise a child with someone like me? “I guess you can say, I felt reborn in a sense. Looking at Rin was like looking at a mirror image of my younger self.” I point to my eyes. “We even have the same eye condition, which is responsible for our golden eyes.”

  “I have to admit they are alluring,” says Chief Connors.

  “You may be right when you say I envisioned myself with a daughter.”

  “I can tell you love your n
iece.”

  “I do.”

  “And you sacrificed your future for her sake. You’re exactly the type of person I’m looking for.”

  “I’m not the person you think I am. I’m truly selfish individual who only cares about her own needs.”

  The police chief scratches the stubble under his chin. “Sora, you’re not the person you think you are. Just from speaking to you, I can tell you’re good at faking your emotions, and even your body language is fabricated to an extent. If I were to rely on those indicators alone, you would have me running in circles, but those are also traits of a sociopath.”

  “Are you a psychologist?”

  “I used to be when I was younger,” says the police chief with a smile. “But don’t diagnose yourself just yet, because I don’t think you’re looking at the full picture that is Sora Nakatomi. I can’t tell you who you are, but you can find out. I will tell you however, that there are a few pieces of the puzzle missing, and you need to find them.”

  “Do you think this program will help?”

  “I don’t know, but it will give you the second chance you deserve and a clean record if you finish.”

  “How long is it?”

  “That depends on you.”

  “I’ll do it.” If it would give me another chance at a future, that was all the convincing I needed.

  A warm smile forms on the police chiefs face. “I’ll sign the paperwork and have you transferred. You’ll be sent to a private island named Befreiung, it’s owned by an organization called Skycorp, and they are proficient at what they do.”

  “What will I do?”

  “I won’t spoil the surprise, but it’s better than rotting in a cell.”

  “Will I keep my status as FBI?” I ask.

  “That I don’t know, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

  I shrug. It was a small price to pay.

  “Remember,” says Police Chief Connors, “no matter your situation, you make your own decisions. When you find yourself face-to-face with the truth, embrace it; do not shun it. Only then, will you be able to see what you couldn’t before.”

  * * *

  The trip was by ship. I was accompanied by several police officers, and in containment nearly the entire time. The only times I was allowed to leave my room was to eat and use the bathroom. I wanted to call the hospital my sister was staying at and check up on her, but was denied permission. Not knowing how my sister was faring was pricking at my psyche, but there was nothing I could do about it, so I decided to put her well being out of my mind for the sake of my own sanity.

  I had already said my goodbyes to Rin before I was even arrested. I would like to have spoken to her one more time, but it would only be to satisfy my own wants. While I doubted she would hate hearing from me, I knew calling her would cause her to worry. She already had enough to deal with without me in the way. For that, I was relieved I couldn’t call anyone. It gave me the perfect excuse to not even bother to brood on it.

  A blaring horn wakes me from my slumber. The loud, booming sound of the ships horn startles me and I fall out of my bed, landing on my stomach and using my hands to stop myself from hitting my face against the floor. The horn dies.

  Still groggy, I pull myself up to my feet and stumble over to my cabin window, rubbing my eyes, which stung with the pain of tiredness.

  When I peer out of the window, I see that the ship I am in has docked. I press my face closer to the window, hoping to get a clearer view.

  This is an Island? This grand mass of land was huge. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were a small country.

  I could see a single road that led through what looked like a forest. The trees on the island spread further than my eyes could see, and it looked like I was staring at a mass of brown and green. If there was a prison facility here, it had to be deep inside of the forest. If I was stranded, here and it weren’t for the road that clearly led somewhere, I would have thought this island was uninhibited.

  As I take in the sights, a banging comes from outside of my cabin door. “Are you up?” asks the voice. Without waiting for me to answer, the door unlocks and a guard opens up. He takes a good look at me, silently observing me, as if etching my appearance into his memory. I may be imagining things, but his eyes seem to give of a hint of malice. “Take your stuff and let’s go,” he says.

  I nod and pick up my small bag containing my brush, some deodorant, and a locket that housed a family photo of me, my sister, and my niece. It was one of the few photos where my smile was genuine, and I wanted something to give me comfort in an island where I would be without them. With everything I have, which isn’t much, I exit the cabin.

  The fresh, sea salt smell of the ocean wakes me up, and the cool sea breeze brushes against my face. I close my eyes and allow myself to relax in the relaxing sensation. Part of me wants to take off my shoes and allow the ocean water to brush against my feet as I walk across the wet sand, with each wave bringing a smoothing chill to my skin. But the thought is short lived.

  “Keep moving,” says one of the guards, forcefully nudging my back with the butt of his gun, leading me into a dark van.

  I wasn’t sure what to expect on Befreiung. I knew that it was an island prison, and owned by a wealthy corporation, Skycorp, who I had never heard of. What was so special about this prison that I was chosen to be sent here? A prison is after all, still a prison. I never received a court trial, and was shipped away a few days after my initial arrest, so I didn’t even have a sentence. The fact that I didn’t know what was going to happen to me, nor had very little control over my fate, irritated me. I liked knowing where I was going. I liked knowing that I was in control of a situation. Before now, I always was, but now I was at the mercy of some corporation, and I hated it. But between a smelly, rotting cell, and a chance to live again, it’s obvious which is the more beneficial…and interesting choice.

  As the van drives across the one way road, passing the monotony of trees and moving towards the destination, I wonder what this place will look like.

  A regular prison perhaps?

  Or maybe, this was legal slavery, and I unknowingly signed myself into a concentration camp. After all, to set up a deal like this, this corporation would need a lot of influence. The owners had to at least be billionaires.

  The more I think about it, the more likely it seems that this is the perfect place for someone to disappear. Everyone that got sent here was a convict who couldn’t get in contact with anyone they knew, so who would miss them?

  After an hour’s drive, we arrive to the place, which immediately blows me away.

  Behind the electric fence, I could see a small town like area. There were various buildings of different sizes, each one serving a different unknown function, and a few that looked like hotels. It looked eerily similar to a small city. Private military guards were patrolling the area, full with body armor and arms.

  I look back to the electric fence. It reminds me that this is a prison island, and I am a prisoner. Once I went past these gates, I had no idea when I would be able to leave, and the fence was clearly intent on keeping me in. From looking at it alone, it appeared to be harmless, but the warning signs and the old horror stories I read told me otherwise. One touch, whether on purpose or by mistake, would send a lethal amount of voltage through the human body, frying them, and ending them right there. And once they grabbed on, they wouldn’t be able to let go, not that it mattered at that point.

  As the driver is allowed through, he drives me through the town. The place was dead empty, with only a few guards patrolling the streets. There were no stop lights or signs, which told me that cars rarely drove through here. Where are the prisoners?

  “Once we get to the mansion,” says the driver, “you will need to see the one of the heads of this island. They will tell you what you need to do from there.”

  “Mansion?” I ask.

  “You’ll see.”

  Not long after he says that, I can see a grand mansion eclipsi
ng me in size. It was the most colossal mansion I had seen, and I immediately knew it belonged to the CEOs of Skycorp. The three story mansion was at least one hundred thousand square feet large, and two marble fountains, one of a tiger, and the other a lioness, stood in the mansion lot. I could see two servants standing watch at the front doors. They wore black butler suits similar to the driver’s, and looked to be of varying age; a young male, and a middle aged female. They appear to be chatting amongst themselves, but I am too far away to hear what they are saying.

  The driver steps out of the vehicle and opens my door. He removes my cuffs, and I step out onto the cobblestone pavement that surrounded the mansion. I examine the fountains and see the letter N inscribed on a metal plate under the tiger fountain. The lioness fountain, for some reason, had no inscription. The driver shows his ID to the servants, and they allow him to enter through the mansion doors.

  As he leads me through the lavish mansion, I take in the view. The chandeliers gently sway, and I can see my reflection off of the glass tiled floor. The massive bay windows allow sunlight to seep in through the cracks of the curtains, and the aroma of bergamot radiates throughout the air. We climb the twisted staircase up to the third floor, and my driver leads me to a double door room.

  “I’ve notified them, and they’re waiting for you, so make haste.” As he says that, he leaves me, and descends the stairs.

  I reach for the door handle. The person, or one of them at least, who was in charge of my fate, was behind that door. If I could make a good first impression on them, that could reduce the amount of time I need to spend here. Do I fake my actions, or do I be myself? What if they see through me and know that I’m trying to get on their good side? That could cause problems. What do I do? What should I do?

  As I open the door, a luxurious blonde woman looks to my direction. She wears a Giorgio Armani suit, and her pink lip glass shines in under the bright white light. She crosses her arms, as she sits on top of her desk, eyeing me. I notice that her left eye is slightly smaller than her right. The black eyeliner she wears makes it easier to spot, but it’s still faint. “You must be the new prisoner,” she says. She spoke in a clear and dignified manner, almost as if looking down on me.