The Rock Star and the Billionaire

Part 3

THREE

The thick file took her most of the morning. She'd toyed with the idea of calling in Stewart and making him stand before her desk like a schoolboy delivering a book report while he briefed her, but she needed to understand Lorikeet Island for herself. She knew its history, after all. Who didn't?

Other investors had made their fortune in mining Western Australia's wealth. All the rest of them had focussed on the mainland. But Stanley Vasse, fresh out of the army from his service in World War II, had other ideas. He'd been stationed at secret bases in Western Australia's remote north, only accessible by boat and plane, and he'd seen enough of the islands to know the wealth they held. Not gold, but red gold – iron ore, which gave the pindan dust up there its b****y hue. And the world needed iron, what with all that would need to be rebuilt once the war was over.

So when the war ended, he fought for his islands. It took six long years of sampling and testing and mapping before he staked his claim on Lorikeet Island, one of the highest quality reefs of iron ore in the world. As he demonstrated when his mine crews started to dig. They mined the cliffs, and when those were gone, he brought in geologists and oceanographers to map the sea bed, before he reclaimed that, too. And the red mud ran like blood, dripping dollars into the Vasse family coffers until her grandfather could afford other islands and other mines, diamonds and coal and uranium, if the government would ever get their arses into gear and let them dig up the damn radioactive stuff. Vasse Prospecting had owned the mining leases on an untouched deposit of uranium for more than sixty years, but hadn't been allowed to raise a single tonne of yellowcake. That would soon change, though. Under Gaia's management, Vasse Uranium had secured the necessary approvals to start mining. By this time next year, her flagship project would be turning a profit. She'd succeeded where her mother and her grandfather had failed. Vasse luck was on the rise once more with her at the helm, and there was nothing she wouldn't do to ensure it continued.

Mother had once told her that she'd sell everything else she owned – mines, properties, all their other investments – but as long as they owned Lorikeet Island, their fortunes were assured. The seabed around the island held enough iron ore to keep the mine open for another century at least. More if it extended to the other nearby islands.

So there was no way she'd ever approve Stewart's planned shutdown of Lorikeet Island mine. No matter how many pictures he'd included in his report, showing the lagoon where the seawall had until recently kept out the ocean, it wasn't enough to make her change her mind. They would rebuild, as they always had, and the mine would reopen as soon as possible.

A tentative knock at the door.

Gaia raised her head, but Harrison, her mother's assistant, kept his eyes lowered. "Your tea, Miss Vasse."

"Is it Earl Grey this time?" she demanded.

He reddened. "Yes, ma'am." He set the offering on her desk and whisked away the cold cup from her previous one. She'd lost count of how much she'd drunk this morning, and the morning wasn't over yet. "The morning papers have arrived. Shall I bring them to you?"

Gaia nodded absently, not sparing more than a glance for the man. Boy, really. For as long as she could remember, her mother had hired assistants like him. Boys who wouldn't meet her eyes and jumped to do her mother's bidding, because if they didn't, they'd be out on their ear and Mother would have a new boy in his place. Maybe Gaia would replace the endless parade of boys with a woman next time. At least she wouldn't be embarrassed when the woman picked up her dry cleaning. Harrison, though...the few times he'd looked at her, when her mother was still alive, there'd been something in his eye that made her wonder if he was thinking...inappropriate thoughts. Or was that Bradley, the previous one? She couldn't keep track of them all. They all looked so alike. And it's not like she'd ever be interested in a man of their type, anyway.

Flicking open the newspaper, Gaia grinned as she beheld the headline photo. Now there was a man who was definitely any woman's type. Why had rock star Jay Felix made the news this time? Hadn't his band broken up? Not that she cared about the rest of his band. Just the ripple of muscles on his shirtless torso, that tempting V between his hips that vanished into the waistband of his pants...

Gaia shook herself. It had been too long since her last holiday. She needed to relieve a little tension, if a blurry newspaper photo of a man could get her hot under the collar. A holiday somewhere private, where she could have a little liaison with no strings attached, and no rumours to follow her home. Not this week, though.

Her eyes returned to the headline article that accompanied the picture, announcing that Jay Felix would be sponsoring some major travel convention in the city next month, and he was offering a stay at his favourite private resort as a door prize. A private resort? That might suit her, Gaia mused, scanning the article for details of the resort's location.

The prize included flights to Broome and transfers to Romance Island Resort in the Buccaneer Archipelago. No, that couldn't be right...could it? Lorikeet Island was in the Buccaneer Archipelago. It was too big a coincidence. It couldn't be the same island group.

She searched for the resort on her computer, only to discover that Romance Island was only a few kilometres from Lorikeet Island. A short boat trip, or helicopter flight. Perhaps it might be possible to combine business with pleasure. If only the rock star would be in residence when she arrived...

Gaia picked up her phone and dialled Harrison's extension.

"Yes, ma'm?" he answered.

Ma'am. Now she felt old. She wasn't even thirty yet.

"Arrange travel for me to Romance Island Resort next week. I want a whole week there, with a helicopter at my disposal. Their best accommodation. With privacy. No, make it two weeks."

"Yes, ma'am," he repeated.

Gaia gritted her teeth. "And you will call me Miss Vasse. Not ma'am."

"Yes, ma – uh, Miss Vasse."

She hung up without another word. It was definitely time to negotiate a merger between business and pleasure.