Assassin Thirty Two

Thirty Five: White Sand Beaches and Sinful Threats

The private jet landed on the island and as soon as Ivy stepped foot out, she was immediately washed away with the intense sunlight Australia had on offer during their summer months. The sky was a vivid bright blue, no cloud to be seen and the ocean reflected the same shade. White sand beaches permitted the island and from the landing strip, Ivy could make out a beach house that sat on the hill in the distance.

"Mr. Black. Welcome back, we're glad you brought a new company, who's this?" An elderly man asked as he greeted the pair. Valentino adjusted his sunglasses while placing a firm hand on Ivy's lower back.

"Henry, this is Ivy. Ivy, this is Henry, he maintains the island when I'm not present." Ivy smiled and shook Henry's hand, his skin a dark golden brown most likely from the amount of sunshine he had absorbed over the years while being on the island.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Miss. Allow me to take your bags and show you around." Henry replied, grabbing the suitcases and placing them on the golf cart. They followed a path that meandered through the tropical plants and soon Ivy was in awe of just how large the holiday house was. It was a similar size to the beach house Valentino deemed as their safehouse but it was more minimalist and secluded. As if it was meant to be private and to not be shared with dozens of workers.

The cart stopped in the driveway and Ivy hopped out, not waiting a single second for Valentino. She walked into the main entrance and her eyes skimmed through the open planned living space. There were floor to ceiling windows everywhere that showcased the views of the island and the ocean. It was definitely not a safehouse for sure because of how open it was.

"I can give you a tour of the stunner if you'd like." Henry called out and Ivy spun around, a starstruck smile etched onto her face.

"Thank you Henry, but I've got it from here. Would you be able to give us a couple of hours?" Valentino suggested and Henry nodded, disappearing out of the house and onto the golf cart. Valentino slowly walked up to Ivy as she turned her back to him, just admiring the beauty of the place. He snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her closer as he began to place slow and gentle kisses on her exposed shoulder.

"Do you like it, Princess?" He whispered, softly brushing her hair to the side.

"I love it here. It's so beautiful." Ivy mumbled, her smile never leaving as she turned in his hold, securing her hands into the bottom of his hair.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" Valentino said, placing his lips on her forehead and leaving a lingering kiss. Ivy giggled, rolling her eyes as she wiggled out of his hold, eager to see more of the house.

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The sun had finally set over the horizon and Valentino was cooking up a storm in the kitchen. Literally. And not a good one either.

"I can't believe you don't know how to cook." Ivy laughed, taking a sip of the whisky in her glass as she watched Valentino frantically rush around the kitchen. The steak he was trying to cook was now well done, almost charcoal and the pot of boiling water and cut potatoes was bubbling and spilling all over the stove.

"Oh leave me alone, I'm trying to do something nice and it's turned into a shitshow." He grumbled, wiping his hands on the white apron he wore. Valentino was determined though so he reached for two plates and began to serve the food. He tried to make the burnt steak look presentable as best he could and handed the plate to Ivy who forced a smile on her face. While it was a kind gesture he was doing, the food was not the most appetizing thing in the world. "Bon appétit." He muttered.

Ivy cut open her steak and grimaced at the sight. The meat was drier than the Sahara desert. Slowly, Ivy brought a piece of the steak to her mouth and began to chew, a blank expression on her face as Valentino began to eat his food. Suddenly he spat out his food and carried his plate to the bin. "God, this shits awful." He said and Ivy chuckled, placing her fork onto her plate. He wasn't wrong, the food wasn't the nicest she's ever had.