The island wasn’t private, as I had believed. Arthur could afford to buy one but didn’t have the time to visit.
Despite not being Arthur’s, the island was exclusive. Yachts were everywhere, not like the one we had, but it was clear the visitors were powerful.
Arthur refused to bring his wheelchair, insisting he felt well enough to walk. At the port, he disembarked on his own, using his elegant cane for support.
The streets were lined with grand hotels, shops fit for royalty, luxurious cars, and scantily clad women walking with no decorum.
There were all kinds of women: young and beautiful, as well as older ones Arthur’s age. The older women were more refined but had incredible, likely enhanced, bodies. Each time we passed them, I wondered if Arthur glanced sideways. Since the issue wit
