Page 48 of Clock Strikes Paradise

As I slowly brushed my hand over the soft curve of her hip, my eye snagged on something white on the floor nearthe dresser. It looked like a pile of broken pieces as I pushed myself up on one elbow. “What’s that?”

Elise followed my gaze, a shadow crossing her face. “My angel,” she murmured. “It fell off the dresser and...” She trailed off, then shrugged with a sad smile.

“It broke?”

“Into pieces. It happened right after our argument and I was so upset, I didn't even bother to pick them up. It seemed like a sign, you know?”

"What do you mean?" I asked, drawing my brows together.

Her gaze drifted toward the shattered fragments. “I took it as a sign that I wasn’t listening to my history.” She paused. “My instinct has always been to depend on myself, to build my own security, to not rely on anyone else. And that little angel… I told you the story. It was symbolic to me.”

“That you should trust no one?”

"Not exactly,” she said, a wry smile curving her lips. “More like... trust myself. Create my own destiny. Fairy tales are for children, Clay. And I grew up early." She shook her head, a strand of hair falling across her cheek. I reached out, my fingers brushing the soft strands away.

“But here we are,” she whispered, her dark blue eyes meeting mine, a spark of something—Hope? Wonder?—lighting them from within.

“Maybe itwasa sign,” I said, the thought coming to me. “A sign that you’re ready to let go of those old beliefs. To take a leap of faith. To embrace something… new.”

Her smile widened, and she snuggled closer, resting her head on my chest. “I like that idea,” she murmured. “I like it a lot.”

She kept repeating that statement about life not being a fairy tale. I was hardly a sentimental man, but damn if shedidn’t make me want to ensure every dream she’d ever had came true. And an idea formed in my head…

Elise breathed out a long, drawn-out sigh before cracking an eye to look at the digital clock on the nightstand. “I could stay like this forever. But I guess we’d better get back to the gala, huh?”

“Probably a good idea,” I agreed with a gentle laugh, brushing a stray hair from her forehead. “The clock is ticking down, Cinderella.”

The ballroom buzzedwith activity as I strolled through the open French doors two hours later, taking in the scene with a sense of detached amusement. Resort staff members hurried about, their movements a blur of purposeful chaos. Tables were being draped in crisp white linen, chairs arranged around them, and glittering gold and black streamers hung from the soaring ceiling. The air was thick with the scent of lilies and orchids, a heady fragrance that usually would have given me a headache. But today, it seemed to blend with the gentle hum of excitement, creating an atmosphere of anticipation, of possibility.

I was dressed casually—the formalwear would come later. A pale blue Ralph Lauren polo shirt hugged my shoulders, and my khaki cargo shorts were loose and comfortable. After a long, leisurely shower—with Elise, of course—I'd opted for practicality. There was still a lot to oversee before tonight's event, and comfort was key. I ran a hand over my hair, the strands still damp, and caught the lingering scent of Elise's coconut shampoo.

I spotted Nate and Camille across the room near a long table, meticulously arranging a collection of candles andhurricane vases, their laughter echoing through the ballroom. As Nate climbed a ladder to adjust some crepe paper, Camille looked up and smiled.

"Clay!" she said, her smile widening as I approached. "You're looking awfully relaxed for a man about to put the final touches on the sale of his company.”

I laughed, the sound deeper and more carefree than usual. "Just enjoying the tropical air, I guess.” My gaze was drawn to Elise. She was conferring with a group of staff members near the stage, her back to me. Even from this distance, I could sense her focused energy.

My gaze lingered. She was dressed in fitted black capris and a sleeveless white blouse, her auburn hair pulled back in a practical clip, her glasses on her nose. She was all business, her movements precise and efficient as she adjusted a spotlight, her voice clear and authoritative as she gave instructions to the staff.

And yet… she looked so incredibly sexy. How had I never noticed that before? I’d always appreciated Elise's competence, her unwavering dedication to her work. But seeing her now, in her element, her intelligence and passion shining through, I was struck by a new awareness. She was a woman who commanded my attention, my respect, and… something deeper.

"Enjoyment must be contagious," Camille observed, her voice laced with knowing amusement. “I’ve noticed Elise has beenverychipper this afternoon. Looks like someone might have listened to me.”

“I did,” I said, my gaze still fixed on Elise. Then I turned and bowed. “Thank you, Camille. Your advice was spot on.”

Surprise flickered across her face, a rare crack in her usual composure. Before she could respond, Nate stepped down from the ladder, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Camille, baby, you’d never believe this, but Clay actually has a heart beating beneath that titanium exterior. And he’s always been willing to give credit where it’s due.” He came over and clapped me on the shoulder. “Love does a body good, doesn’t it, brother?”

"We’ve only been together a few days,” I said, my tone deliberately light as I shrugged off his comment.

"Okay, okay," Nate said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Point taken. But I've never seen you this... mellow. You're usually pacing the floor and barking orders at everyone before a big event." He paused, tilting his head toward Elise with a sly grin. "It's kind of cute, actually. Though I still can't believe you're wearingshorts. At a work event! What would our investors say?”

I frowned at my legs, then raised my eyes to his. “They won’t see me, now, will they? I assure you, I’ll be impeccably dressed tonight.”

“I’d never guess you would be the type who enjoys event prep,” Camille observed.

"You're telling me," Nate chimed in, shaking his head. "This is a man who schedules his bathroom breaks."