Captivated Ch. 01

Chapter 1 - Suspicions

Isle of Enchantment, Eastward Lighthouse No.1

Five years later...

East of Maine, and only accessible via the Biddeford Ferry, a charming little island lovingly nicknamed the "Isle of Enchantment" stood serenely in the middle of the Atlantic. It was given the name by the superstitious residents of Mount Desert Island because they truly believed it was an enchanted place.

And they weren't wrong.

The little island was a serene, picturesque island with a small populace of very private citizens. There were never more than ten thousand people at a time, and tourists and visitors made up most of them. The permanent citizens of the island formed a very private and very close-knit community.

Most who lived there were well-to-do individuals. They lived in beautiful cottage-style mansions overlooking the bay and the Atlantic. From their posh and privileged abodes high up the coastal cliffs, some might even experience a sense of being a god—something some residents took too seriously. However, there were also small, less impressive residences, and those were inhabited by diehard blue-collar residents who worked at the posh hotels or owned small Mom & Pops in the epic center of the island.

Although small, Isle of Enchantment still boasted no less than two lighthouses. These stood on opposite sides of the landmass. They were referred to as Lighthouse #1 and Lighthouse #2. Both were still in excellent shape and fully functional. Since the island was situated between the mainland and the sea, fog was a very common occurrence, so lighthouses were still indispensable. But as enchanting as they were, these two lighthouses have, lately, become the bane of the local folks' peaceful existence.

A large mainland corporation had become interested in the lighthouses. They'd already bought one lighthouse, and had set their sights set on the last remaining, privately owned beacon—Lighthouse #1.

For months, they had worked diligently to buy the last lighthouse. They offered large sums of money, but the owner had repeatedly rejected them. The sums offered over the years grew to outrageous amounts, indicating that the shareholders of this corporation were willing to go far in order to acquire the rights to the property and the lighthouse. That insistence should have been an omen to Charles Meeren that this corporation wasn't going to take no for an answer. To his credit, though, Charles Meeren continued to rebuff and reject any and all offers until he finally just ignored them. His silence was loud and clear, but the Masterson family had never suffered defeat, and they weren't about to start now.

AquaFine Real, Inc. was a subsidiary of Global Masterson Enterprises, Inc. It specialized in large cruise ships and the renovation of small islands, transforming them vacation paradises for the well-to-do. Global Masterson Enterprises, Inc. was a multi-billion dollar corporation that had thousands of divisions and subsidiaries that dealt in everything from real estate to fast food manufacturing to restaurant chains across the globe to advanced construction equipment.

Although Global Masterson Inc. was a mega-corporation, it was still privately owned and operated by the Masterson family of Manhattan, New York. The Masterson's have always been a part of America's elite which inevitably gave them a sense of entitlement, and they never encountered problems money couldn't buy away...until now.

Emboldened after paying a tidy but reasonable sum for Lighthouse #2, and with renovations already in full swing, AquaFine Real set out to offer the owner of Lighthouse #1 the same reasonable sum. Unlike the Louwenbrach family, the previous owners of Lighthouse #2 and its cliffside property, Charles J. Meeren pertinently refused to sell, and when he ignored them, it was a clear sign that he believed the matter was closed. But for the Mastersons, the issue was far from settled.

On a warm and sunny, summer afternoon, as the sun kissed the ocean's rippling surface and made it sparkle and shimmer, the Masterson's decided to launch phase two of their plan to acquire Charles Meeren's lighthouse.

It was a beautiful day, with colorful sails of fancy sailboats billowing in the sea breeze. The tranquil sight was mixed with the sounds of heavy million dollar yacht engines, but it all seemed to work. Only the sound of construction on Lighthouse #2 tore through the harmony, and it was most likely times like these when the islanders counted their many lucky stars that Charly Meeren hadn't sold out to that mega-corporation.

On the west side of the island it was noisy and bustling with workers, most from the mainland but some locals as well. On the east side of the island, however, all was still peaceful and unbothered just as it had been before AquaFine Real arrived on large cargo ships with their army of construction workers, architects, designers, and historians.

On that "unbothered" side of the island, a young woman stood on one of the large rocks on the sloping cliffside. Her bobbed, deep black curls whipped wildly around her serene and pretty face, flushed with a healthy glow. Her eyes were slightly slanted, of an extraordinary color, and fringed with thick whipping lashes. She was as still as a statue as she stared quietly out over the open sea. If you ventured a closer look, you might be able to catch a hint of sadness within their crystalline depths.

She wore a baggy overall and blue knit sweater hoodie, but it was hardly enough to keep warm in the brisk briny breeze. Yet, she didn't seem affected by it one way or the other. Her hands were tucked in her overall pockets, her feet in rugged black workman boots firmly planted on the slippery rocks.

She stood unafraid on a rather precarious spot atop a particularly large black rock. She appeared engrossed by the setting sun as, just below the rocky incline, her small rowboat had been tethered to a small wooden pier and it now bobbed gently in the frothy sea water.

The sound of a Jeep's engine tore through the serenity of the moment, and she finally took her attention off of the horizon and raised her gaze. Big curious eyes moved as she glanced over her shoulder at the clifftop and at the white and red striped guardrail. Moments later, a bright yellow and black Humvee appeared before it parked in front of the railing, and moments later, the doors opened.

Four tourists, most likely on their way to the Sumptuous Seafood Salon restaurant across the road, exited the robust vehicle. Patrons past and present swore that the Sumptuous Seafood Salon served the best Atlantic seafood this side of Heaven, so it wasn't an unusual scene to see tourists in their fancy vehicles park near the guardrail before heading to the restaurant across the road since the Sumptuous Seafood had a pathetically small parking lot for a popular restaurant.

She noticed the tall, dark-haired man with wide shoulders first. He wore a thick ivory cable-knit sweater over his long, lean torso and wide chest, and a pair of black casual slacks on his lean hips and seemingly longer than long legs. His hair was a deep black highlighted by blue streaks under the summer's sun, and it was trimmed closely to his head and his chiseled face. He was undoubtedly handsome although she couldn't see that clearly from where she stood, but what she did notice was the quiet confidence emanating from him, even from that distance.

He hadn't noticed her down below yet. She watched as he braced hands on the guardrail with his attention drawn out to the horizon as if to enjoy the spectacular scene of the setting sun. He had a strong and handsome profile worthy of a magazine cover. Moments later, a slim blonde beauty appeared by his side, catching his full attention. She wrapped her arms around him, and after he slipped an arm around her, and then they looked out over the sea together. It was at that moment when he finally noticed her below.

She was certain she'd been found out since he looked straight at her. That certainty was vindicated when he lifted a hand and waved. She returned the favor before she turned, bent, and picked up a plastic trash bag at her feet.

She slung the thing over her shoulder with ease before she made her way to higher ground. She didn't expect to see the foursome by the time she climbed the steep cliffside, but after she'd hopped her way up from rock to rock with acrobatic ease and neared the rope and wood bridge, she glanced up and there they were.

Eyeing them curiously, she took brief note of them as her short black bob whipped around her somewhat roundish, pale face. Although she didn't look out of the ordinary from a distance, up close revealed a unique and unconventional beauty. She possessed large, sharp, and extraordinary colored eyes. They were a perfect combination of blue and green—a rare turquoise. They weren't the dull turquoise, but a vibrant hue that was fascinating to behold.

Four pairs of eyes seemed glued to her face, and she returned an absent smile before she turned her face away and walked toward the path that led to the rope and wood bridge that stretched to the huge white lighthouse.

But she wouldn't get far.

"Excuse me!" a pleasant and deep voice called out to her.

She paused at the beginning of the wooden bridge, and with trash bag still slung over her shoulder, she turned her head and watched with a curious frown as the foursome approached her, the tallest of the quartet in the cable-knit sweater slowly bringing up the rear.

"Hi," the younger of the two dark-haired men greeted with a friendly smile.

"Hi."

"You work there?" he asked as he nodded in the direction of the big lighthouse.

"No," she answered quietly, her voice soft, barely above a whisper.

Then Ryan watched as she briefly glanced at his silent big brother, and his lips pulled into a knowing smile. When she noticed it, she looked briefly confused as she eyed his grinning face.

"Is there something I can help you with?" she asked quietly.

"Please excuse my manners. My name is Ryan."

She nodded. "Hello, Ryan."

He continued with the introductions, "And this is my fiancée Cheryl. The big guy over there is my big brother, Royce, and the lovely lady beside him is his ladyfriend, Sharon."

She nodded to each and every one of them as they were introduced, but as beautiful as her turquoise eyes were, they appeared strangely detached. Aloof. They lacked emotion, even warmth.

But Ryan had to admit that the girl had incredibly enchanting eyes—and a blush to match. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was definitely something special there that made her unbelievably...pretty.

"I didn't catch your name," he said with a charming smile.

"That's because I didn't give it," she said. Then, as if something switched on inside her, she suddenly produced the most enchanting smile he's ever seen, and she offered her slender hand. "The name's, Charly—with a "y"."

"Pleased to meet you, Charly with a "y"," Ryan chuckled good-humoredly, taking her hand and giving it a gentle shake. "You're about the friendliest face we've encountered on the island since we've arrived."

"But I'm certain I won't be the last," she said, smiling friendly as she retracted her hand.

"What's that you have in the trash bag, Charly?" Cheryl asked with friendly, smiling amber eyes.

"Just some trash some people dumped," she answered. Then she looked quietly out to sea again and three of the four exchanged gazes when they saw her eyes glaze over as she softly added, "People shouldn't throw their litter into the sea. It's so disrespectful."

"I agree," Ryan said quietly, but it was enough to snap her out of her trance, and she turned her head and set her attention back on him as gusts of salty winds slapped her short black curls around her pretty face.

"Good," she said. "Then, during the course of your stay on Mount Desert, I can count on your help to keep the ocean free of debris?"

"Absolutely."

Cheryl, the other blonde by his side, asked, "Did you just come up from those rocks?"

Charly looked at her and smiled. "Yes. My boat's tethered to the pier down there."

"Looks very dangerous. You're very brave to even try to climb it."

She smiled politely. "Oh, it's nothing. Been doing it ever since I could walk."

"It seems like a waste of time, though," Sharon noted. "Picking up other people's trash."

She turned her attention on the other blonde's pretty but somewhat unfriendly face. She smiled but didn't respond.

"You were on your way to that big ol' lighthouse there," Ryan said with a curious gleam in his blue eyes. "Since you've already admitted you don't work there, the next question would naturally be...what is it that you do there? Do you live there?"

She half turned her head pulling a twirling raven curl from her incredibly long lashes. Now her smile was a little forced and withdrawn. "Sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"Yes."

"Alone?" he asked.

She lowered her gaze as her plump lips pressed. Then she raised her eyes and smiled. "No." Then she produced an apologetic look and said, "This bag is kinda heavy. I really gotta go. But if you're on your way to that restaurant and if you're wonderin' if the Sumptuous Seafood Salon is any good, they say they serve the best seafood 'round these parts, and they're reasonably priced."

"Thanks," Ryan said with a curious smile. It was obvious that this girl, Charly, was impatient to leave their company.

"Think nuthin' of it," she said with a nod. "You all enjoy and have a good evening." Then she turned to resume her way, but she was stopped once again.

"Are you Charlene Meeren?"

The tall guy, who had been silent all this time, finally spoke.

She turned her head and looked over her shoulder at him as the winds whipped her curls across her brow. Then with a smile but with a hooded gaze she answered, "Nobody calls me Charlene. It's Charly with a "y"."

"Meeren?"

"Yes. All my life. Good guess."

He suddenly smiled. "Would you like to join us for dinner, Miss Meeren?" he asked, ignoring the disappointed look on his pretty girlfriend's face.

Her gaze flickered over to his lady and she caught the jealous look that briefly flickered across her delicate features before she returned her gaze with a polite smile back to him. "I think I'll need to take a rain-check. I've got a prior engagement."

"I'll hold you to it," he said.

With that somewhat detached but polite smile, she nodded. "Thanks for offerin', though. Mighty kind of you." Then she turned and resumed her way to the lighthouse.

To be continued

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