Remote Resort: Book One: Runaway

By Roselynn Randerod

Lila is on the run, desperate to escape her controlling husband and his gilded cage of wealth and privilege. At the end of her rope, she stumbles upon the unexpected sanctuary of a mountaintop resort whose offerings go far beyond typical spa treatments.
Wealthy guests visit the Xanadu to have their every wish fulfilled by its oh-so discrete staff, and what happens at the remote resort stays at the remote resort, right? It’s the perfect place to act out your wildest fantasies. It’s also the perfect place to hide.

A beautiful young runaway wife.
A ruthless, powerful billionaire.
A mountaintop pleasure dome.

In a world where everything is for sale and everyone has their price, just how far will Lila go to be free?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roselynn Randerod
• Release date: Feb 6, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311578327

Roselynn Randerod

Roselynn Randerod writes character-driven erotic romance. Happily married to her lucky husband, her hobbies include wine-tasting, psychology, tribology, and mixology. "All I really have going for me is sarcasm, a great rack, good eyebrows, and a serious case of Resting Bitch Face." Roselynn Randerod Warning! Book series contains: MF, FF, MM, FMF, MFM, ???, ??, non-con, dubious con, ex-con, comi-con, you name it.

Book preview

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REMOTE RESORT

Book One

RUNAWAY

~

ROSELYNN RANDEROD

Copyright © 2016 by Roselynn Randerod

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions of it.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Chapter One

RUNAWAY

~

With a whoosh of air brakes and a mechanical groan, the Greyhound bus rolled to a stop. The door swung open and a tall blonde stepped down onto the cracked sidewalk, rubbing her neck as she blinked into the slanting rays of the late afternoon sun.

Lila had just endured a daylong ride from Los Angeles without so much as a bite to eat and her empty stomach growled in protest. A group of men lingering on the pavement studied her with interest but she lowered her gaze and hurried inside the bus station to ask for directions.

She donned a pair of oversized sunglasses and tucked her ponytail into a baseball cap before shouldering her backpack and stepping back outside. After a quick glance up and down the street to get her bearings, she set off at a brisk pace that stretched out her long legs, checking over her shoulder a few times to be certain that no one was following.

Her destination was a storefront in a run-down building, and upon arrival she paused to peer anxiously through the security bars guarding its grimy front windows. An assortment of idle camera equipment and abandoned guitars were collecting dust in a display case, reassuring her that she’d found the right place. She squared her shoulders and stepped inside boldly, heading straight for a glass counter where she bent down, pretending to inspect an array of thick gold chains, turquoise cuff bracelets, watches and rings.

A heavyset man sat at a desk behind the counter, shoveling fluorescent orange Chinese food from a takeout box into his mouth. The smell both turned Lila’s stomach and reminded her of how hungry she was, and she gripped the counter, suddenly lightheaded.

The man sized her up, taking in her worn jeans and ratty sneakers. Can I help you?

She cleared her throat. Yes please.

He took another bite and spoke with his mouth full. Well?

I’d like to pawn some jewelry.

He set the box down, wiping his hands on his shirt before getting up and lumbering over to the counter. Let’s see what you got.

Lila reached into her backpack and extracted a velvet pouch, opening the drawstring and upending it onto the glass to reveal a sparkling pair of steel-blue diamond stud earrings.

They’re over two karats each, she informed him. Perfectly matched and flawless. They’re worth at least fifteen thousand, but I’ll take five thousand in cash right now.

I see, he smiled with amusement, holding up one of the earrings to the light. He looked the girl up and down like he was appraising her instead of the jewel. What’s your name?

Jones, she replied.

"So Jones, what’s the story behind these?"

They were a gift, she answered truthfully.

He let out a low whistle. Some gift.

Her lovely mouth tightened. He only gave the best.

Bad breakup?

She lifted her sunglasses to reveal a pair of expressive grey eyes set in one of the most beautiful faces he’d ever laid eyes upon. Divorce.

I see, he said, sucking some food from between his teeth as he looked her up and down. Tough luck.

Her back stiffened. Not at all. It was for the best.

It must be hard to part with a woman like you. The man smirked, undressing her with his eyes. If you were mine I’d never let you go.

She flinched, fighting a sudden urge to flee.

The sheltered life Lila had been living made it difficult for her to read people, but she sensed something a shade different about the way the pawnshop owner was ogling her. She was all too aware of her startling beauty, but she wore it like a curse because it tainted the motives of everyone she encountered. If she didn’t need the money so desperately she’d be out the door and halfway down the block in a matter of seconds. Instead, she second-guessed herself and stood her ground.

When Lila was a child her good looks had been a blessing. Complete strangers would stop to admire her, praising her as if she had anything at all to do with how she looked. She was barely six years old when a talent scout convinced her mother to bring her into an advertising agency for an audition that ended up changing both of their lives forever. From that day on her mother was able to make a living solely from managing her daughter’s work as a child model.

They spent the rest of Lila’s childhood on the road, moving between Los Angeles and New York in search of lucrative commercial work. With no other family to speak of, it was just the two of them against the world. Lila and her mother were always together, moving frequently as they traveled like gypsies from job to job.

Let’s go baby, her mother used to say, It’s show time.

Lila quickly learned to be a passable actress, feigning delight on even the twentieth take of a cereal ad. She posed with families that weren’t hers and played with dolls that never came home with her, delivering the toy company’s sales pitches with an impish smile and a charming bounce of her golden pigtails.

At the moment, she needed all of her acting skills to keep from showing her revulsion as the pawnbroker’s beady eyes roamed over every inch of her body in a most unsavory fashion. He licked his lips with a smarmy smile before turning his attention back to the diamonds. I’m supposed to believe these are real?

Lila shrugged nonchalantly, scooping up the earrings and putting them back inside the pouch. I can easily find an estate jeweler who’ll take them on consignment, she lied, turning to leave.

She bit her lip and started walking out, fully aware that she couldn’t risk staying in one place long enough for a legitimate sale to go through. Lila had been on the run for weeks, and now it all came down to this one moment—a desperate bluff in a sleazy Salinas pawnshop, her fate in the hands of an ill-mannered and no doubt untrustworthy man.

Whoa! Hold on! Wait a minute! My business partner is the diamond specialist, the man called out. Can you come back for an appraisal?

She took a deep breath and paused, turning back to face him. When will your partner be in?

Why don’t you let me know where I can find you? I’ll give you a call.

She shook her head no. Sorry, no phone.

The man thought for a few seconds. Can you come back in a couple hours? I’m sure we can do business.

She looked up at the clock on the wall. Okay. I’ll be back here at six o’clock.

He watched her leave, admiring the way her faded jeans clung to her tight little ass. The minute she was out of the door he reached under the counter and pulled out a leaflet with her face printed on it. He picked up his phone and dialed the number on the flier, picking some food from his teeth with his pinkie finger.

The girl you’re looking for—the hot blonde? Ten large for her, right? Cash? A slow smile spread across his face. Better hurry. She was just in here, and she’s gonna be comin’ back around in a few hours.

He returned to his stool, satisfied with the fortuitous turn of events. A pair of men had stopped in the shop just that morning, handing out images of the lissome beauty and offering a cash bounty for information leading to her recovery. What they wanted with her was none of his business; this was gonna be the easiest money he’d made all year.

~

Lila picked up a newspaper and headed for a coffee shop across the street. She washed up as best she could in the grungy restroom before taking a window seat to scarf down an order of scrambled eggs and toast. She lingered over her coffee and gazed out of the window at the traffic passing by. Lila studied the waitress as she moved from table to table with a steaming pot, wondering if she might be able to land a job serving food.

The only work she’d ever done was modeling, and her mother had always been there to handle the financial end of things. When Lila grew into a gangly teenager her extra-long limbs made commercial work in the states hard to come by, so her mother relocated them to France where Lila was employed as a fitting model while she practiced her runway skills. A famed designer fell in love with her coltish body and innocent good looks, using her to launch his latest line of designer jeans.

Just when Lila’s fashion modeling career was poised to take off, her whole world fell apart.

She had barely turned fifteen when Robert first spotted her angelic face and lanky body gracing a Parisian catwalk, introducing himself as a wealthy patron of the arts. Robert was forty years old—the same age as Lila’s mother, and the sole heir to a vast Swiss banking fortune. Elegantly slim and handsome, he stood well over six feet tall, a dashing and sophisticated man of the world with the perfect sprinkling of grey distinguishing his temples.

He insinuated himself into Lila and her mother’s lives, wining and dining them at every opportunity. They were flown by private jet to the south of France to spend time on his enormous yacht and sailed away to a luxurious villa on Robert’s own private Mediterranean island. Lila had never seen her mother so happy.

Robert particularly enjoyed spending his fortune on Lila, buying her a lavish new wardrobe and hosting a masked ball in his Venetian palazzo to celebrate her sixteenth birthday. Acrobats, musicians and clowns performed for the well-heeled crowd, and after an elaborate fireworks display Lila was ushered into Robert’s private study. It was there that she was sat down and informed that her mother was suffering from terminal cancer and Robert was to become her legal guardian.

He’ll take good care of you after I’m gone, her mother had reassured her. You’ll never want for a single thing.

Lila sometimes wondered if her mother could have known what sort of man Robert really was. Was it possible for her to have foreseen the insane possessiveness and jealousy that would bring Lila’s modeling career to a screeching halt the very day she fell under his control? For over ten long years she had been locked away from the world like a princess in a tower, surrounded by silent servants too terrified to befriend her.

Lila watched the waitress skillfully balance multiple plates on her arm, realizing that the past decade had rendered her unfit for nearly any kind of practical work. If she was going to maintain her newfound freedom she would need to find some kind of job and a place to stop running very soon. She glanced out the window again just in time to see a black van pulling up in front of the pawnshop. Two men in suits got out and hustled inside with purpose.

Oh no, she whispered under her breath.

Lila pulled out her wallet and left some money on the table, hurrying back into the small restroom. She locked the door and ran some cold water on her wrists, looking into her anguished eyes in the pitted mirror. She’d miscalculated, she realized with a sickening rush of certainty. He must have hired someone to contact every last pawnshop in the state, and they’d closed in on her with ruthless efficiency.

She pulled a rumpled red wig out of her bag and slipped it on, tucking her ponytail out of sight. She took off her denim jacket and changed into a hooded sweatshirt, hoping that it was enough of a transformation. She left the diner through the back door and started walking down the street casually.

Lila still held out a tiny hope that she might be wrong, but a quick glance over her shoulder told her that the van was now parked behind the pawnshop, lying in wait. She knew that Robert’s detectives would hunt her down with a systematic determination that was chilling. He only hired the very best, and when he wanted something he spared no expense. Lila had little doubt that a sentry was posted at the bus station as well.

She continued down the street away from both places, hoping to find some cheap lodging for the night. Lila had naively assumed that Robert wouldn’t think to look for her in this impoverished section of town, and she fought back tears of despair. The last time she’d failed to slip his grasp it had taken five long years for another opportunity to present itself.

If he caught her again she would never be free of him.

Lila found herself descending into an alarmingly seedy neighborhood just as the sun began to dip below the horizon. She picked up her pace, fear settling like a lead weight in her belly. A car cruised by, hurling catcalls at her through its open windows. She ducked into a doorframe to hide, waiting until it passed before setting out again. The sky was completely dark when Lila came upon a dilapidated motel with a group of women loitering out front, illuminated by a lone streetlight.

She approached them timidly, asking, Uhm … Hello ladies. Does anybody know where I can get a room for the night?

Up close they all looked hard, shopworn, and angry. A woman in a long blonde wig scanned Lila up and down with contempt. Stupid cunt. Get the fuck out of here.

What? Lila gasped, taken aback.

A couple of the others circled around behind her as the biggest one approached her. "You heard her bitch. This our street." She stepped forward and slapped Lila hard across the face.

Shocked by the sudden brutality, Lila staggered back a step. She tasted blood in her mouth and froze, momentarily stunned. She never saw the next blow coming and lost her balance, falling over backwards and hitting her head on the pavement.

Her vision blackened at the edges as she raised her arms to shield her face. The last thing she saw was the streetlight above her head as it receded into a long, dark tunnel.

Chapter Two

RATTLED

~

Lila opened her eyes to see a beautiful young face hovering over her, the glow from the streetlight outlining her frizzy hair like a halo.

You okay lady?

She struggled to sit up, knocking her wig the rest of the way off in the process. I’m only looking for a place to stay for the night, I swear to God, I’m just passing through.

You don’t belong here! a heated voice called out.

The girl that crouched over her turned to snap, Lay off Wanda! Bitch didn’t do anything to you!

A hand gripped her upper arm, helping her to her feet. Weaving, Lila looked down to focus on her benefactor in the dim light. She was much younger than the angry women who milled around them, itching for a fight.

The girl stood bravely between Lila and her attackers, bellowing, "I said, back the fuck off!"

That skank thinks she can work her shit round here, one of the women hissed. Wait till Luther gets a load of her.

I’m not doing anything … I’m only lost, Lila whimpered.

The younger girl pulled her away from the others and over to the stairs that led to the second floor of the motel. C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.

Shaken, Lila hesitated, clutching her backpack to her chest. She looked over at the hostile women and decided to take her chances with the friendly one. She trailed numbly along behind the girl’s impossibly high Lucite heels as they clicked up the dark stairs. The girl stopped at a door and fished in her bag for a key.

What’s your name? she asked before unlocking the door.

Lila.

I’m Chantal. She tossed her head in the direction of the street. Don’t mind those stupid hos—they just ratchet bitches. Don’t have no class.

When they were safely inside Chantal closed the door behind them and flipped the deadbolt. She pointed to the bed. Have a seat. I’ll get you something for your lip.

Lila set her backpack down and perched on the edge of the unmade bed, rubbing the lump that was forming on the back of her head as she took stock of the dingy room. It was even shabbier than the cheapest motels she’d been staying in, with ratty drapes and mysterious dark stains on the threadbare carpeting. She watched as the brave little girl squatted in front of a mini-fridge, rummaging through the tiny freezer section.

Short, dark-skinned and shapely, Chantal had a nipped–in waist with gently swelling hips and high, round buttocks that were barely covered by her stretchy mini skirt. A sequined tube top was molded to her small firm breasts and her wiry shoulder length hair was pulled back to reveal a lovely round face with pillowy lips, a button nose, and exotically tilted eyes.

She came over to hand Lila a bag of frozen peas. Put this on your mouth to keep it from blowing up. She went into the bathroom and came back with a damp washcloth. You got some blood on your face.

Lila smiled tremulously, the girl’s kindness making her want to cry. Thank you.

Lord! You sure don’t look like a working girl. What chu doin’ hanging around down here?

Something made Lila decide to tell the truth, fear making her voice quake. I’m running away from my husband. He—he has people out looking for me. I can’t let them find me.

Chantal frowned. He hits you, right?

Lila shook her head. No. He just … he won’t let me leave him. She looked around the unkempt room again, a far cry from the opulent penthouses, villas and yachts she’d called home for the past decade. It occurred to her that many people would gladly trade their freedom for the life of luxury that Lila was desperately trying to flee.

I hear that. Chantal nodded as her huge eyes filled with tears of sympathy. I hate it here but my man won’t let me split neither.

Chantal looked so young that Lila had to ask, How long have you been together?

Three years. I ran away from home when I was sixteen and Luther took me in. I went from one bad situation right into the next one.

Lila saw the irony right away, as she’d fallen under Robert’s control at precisely the same age. You have to run away, she urged, thinking back on all of her lost years, before it’s too late.

Chantal shook her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her wrists. It’s no use. He doesn’t let me keep enough money to get away.

Lila’s eyes flew open wide. If you help me to pawn something I’ll split the money with you.

What? Chantal asked.

Lila reached into her bag and pulled out the pouch, spilling the diamond earrings into her palm. These are worth thousands, but he has every pawnshop in California looking for me by now. You can help me get money for them.

Chantal’s young face hardened with skepticism. Yeah right. If those are real then I’m the queen of Sheba.

Lila’s face was grave. I swear they are.

Is this some kind of scam? I’m not getting busted fencing your stolen jewelry.

They’re not stolen. They were a gift. My husband is a very rich man.

So why don’t you just divorce him? Get a lawyer?

Lila shook her head. I tried. He paid everyone off, and then he started having his bodyguards shadow me. She shuddered at the memory. When I tried to run away he kept me imprisoned on his island … her voice trailed off when she saw the look of disbelief in Chantal’s eyes.

How did you get away? Chantal asked. Swim?

Lila realized that Chantal probably thought the blow to her head had caused some major brain damage. I know it sounds crazy but it’s true. I spent five years earning his trust, convincing him that I wanted to stay. He agreed to a ceremony to renew our vows and allowed me to go shopping in Paris. Her mouth twisted sourly. For a new trousseau.

A true—what?

Clothes … New things for our second honeymoon in Monaco. I returned them for cash and bribed the hotel concierge to arrange for a passport. I snuck out of a designer fitting and caught a plane to Las Vegas.

Vegas?

It was the first direct flight I could get to the US.

So how’d you end up in this shithole?

"He traced me to Nevada. A jeweler I sold a necklace to tipped me off that he was offering reward money. I caught a bus to San Diego and I’ve been working my way up the state, pawning a few pieces here and there. I was just down the street trying to