BILLIONAIRE Island: Idyllic Mischief Read Online Free Page A

and he'd discover her when he finally came to and remembered to unincarcerate her. At least she wasn't totally alone. She would die along with the baby she'd decided that afternoon to welcome completely into her life, with or without Brad's involvement.
    She came around in solid agony down one side, from curling up fetal in the bath and the solid metal had compressed her wrenched muscles and joints into a mass of bruised human remains. Outside, she heard Brad, skulking around the apartment in morning-after silent rage.
    “Where are you?” he shouted down the hall. “Answer me. Nowhere to hide. I know you tried to freaking kill me while I slept.”
    She gurgled a whisper of ironic laughter. Just who had tried to kill whom? But she had no energy, not one iota of strength would muster in the beaten body, shattered from inside and out. Then to add the ultimate insult to the injuries, her stomach contracted and heaved, with massive effort as though forcing an alien bodysnatcher up through the windpipe, managed to retch a cup of orange green bile into the bath all over her hair and sleepshirt. Her body shook in giant shudders, but she was too heavy to lift her half battered head off the bottom of the bath as she hurled every drop of viscous substance remaining in the digestive tract. What the fuck? Could this life get any worse?
    The sound of her puking alerted Brad to her whereabouts and he unhooked the restraint on the door handle. Please just let us out of this right now before I have to deal with a raging husband. No luck, he threw back the door with a curse ready on his lips and Indie knew the tub must have looked like attempted double homicide by his reaction.
    “Jesus fucking Christ, no, no, Jesus, Indie, India answer me. Oh God, what happened? Did I do this? Did I hurt you, Oh God India please answer me. Don't leave me.”
    Indie didn’t know whether this was punishment or a sign from the Universe but she knew right then that was what she had to do.
    “Just get me an ambulance,” she croaked. While they waited for emergency services to take their New York sweet time to arrive, contrite instead of silent-rage Brad smoothed her brow with a cold facecloth and fed her ice chips to suck on when she was unable to lift her head enough to drink from a glass. He was throbbing with fear about what would happen to him for his attempted murder, or what he thought was attempted murder as Indie had no strength and less desire to tell him the truth. Even trying to open her mouth hurt like Hades. Brad called his office right there in the bathroom and told the girl he was going to be in late, his wife was not well. Just as he had done a dozen times before, when he woke up too hungover to get to the office in time. His co-workers must have thought she was a major pain-in-the-ass hypochondriac demanding shrew of a wife but Indie no longer cared.
    The two paramedics looked like members of the Russian mafia, all shaved heads and neck tattoos, but they shot her full of something that dissipated every tiny prick of pain onto a floating cloud of bliss and she was finally relieved from the pain of being inside her head.
    Unfortunately, she eventually came back into that head and found her husband seated beside her in the hospital room. Indie was hooked up to an IV unit and wished there was some button she could press to escape the agony roiling around her body.
    “Hey, baby, how are you feeling?” Brad took her wan hand in his. “Indie, I am so, so sorry about the baby, I had no idea, why didn't you tell me?”
    “Seriously?” Indie muttered, her mouth too dried up to speak and the words catching in her throat anyways. He is really going to make this my fault as usual, some excuse to justify his actions.
    Over the next two weeks Indie heard every promise she'd ever heard and then some. Brad moved to a hotel, or with a friend, she didn't care. He called constantly saying the last straw had hit the camel's back and all the usual useless