I glanced at Aurelia, her eyes wide with confusion. But duty called. Always did. Steeling myself, I turned away. "Put your cloak on," I said, my voice sharper than intended, laced with frustration not at her, but at the interruption. "And don’t wander around the resort dressed like that."
She looked stung, but I didn't wait for a response. I strode out of the water, grabbing a towel from the nearby lounger and wrapping it around my waist. Victor fell into step beside me as we left the pool area, the golden lights fading behind us, replaced by the dim lanterns lining the path to my private villa. The air was thick with humidity, the distant waves a constant murmur.
We reached my villa, a sprawling structure at the island's heart. Victor followed me inside, closing the door with a soft click. The interior was cool, air-conditioned, with low lighting that cast long shadows across the minimalist furniture. I poured myself a freshcognac from the bar, the liquid swirling in the glass, drawing deeply to steady my thoughts.
"What's so urgent?" I asked, leaning against the desk.
Victor stood straight, his expression unreadable as always. "It's your father, sir. Marcus called. He's escalating The Butcher situation. New intel suggests the Butcher operates from a safehouse, somewhere remote, possibly urban camouflage. He's demanding we prioritize finding the location. He wants you involved directly, says your resources here could uncover leads he can't from the mainland."
I took a sip of cognac, the burn grounding me, but my mind drifted again. Aurelia's voice in the water, soft and tentative. I'd never let anyone that close, not in years. Women were distractions, tools at best, but she... she felt different. Vulnerable, yet strong. Her curves under that gown, the silk translucent in the moonlight, hinting at everything beneath.
"Sir?" Victor prompted, his brow furrowing slightly. "Your thoughts on the safehouse?"
I exhaled, forcing my focus back. Marcus and his obsessions. "Tell him I'll look into it. But resources are tied up with the resort launch. He can't expect miracles overnight."
Victor nodded, but his eyes narrowed. "You're distracted, sir. That's not like you. Work has always been your anchor."
I met his gaze, the cigar smoldering between my fingers. He was right. I'd built my empire on laser focus, no room for diversions. But tonight, it was different. Instead of answering about Marcus, I shifted gears. "I need you to dig up information on someone."
Victor's expression remained neutral, but curiosity flickered. "Who?"
"Aurelia Sterling. Background, history, anything noteworthy. Discreetly."
He paused, then nodded. "Consider it done, sir. I'll have a file by morning."
The door shut with a finality that echoed in the empty villa. I finished my cognac in one swallow, the heat spreading through my chest, but it did little to quell the restlessness. Aurelia's image haunted me. Her amber eyes wide with trust, her body yielding yet defiant in the water. I needed to clear my head.
I headed to the master bathroom, a sanctuary of marble and glass, the shower a rainfall system that could drown out the world. I stripped off the damp swim trunks, letting them fall to the floor, and stepped under the cascade. The water hit me hot and hard, steam rising around me, but my thoughts refused to wash away. They circled back to her, relentlessly. But I couldn't afford distractions, not with Marcus breathing down my neck, the Butcher's moves to orchestrate, the resort's launch looming.
I stepped out, toweling off roughly, the steam clearing from the mirror to reveal my reflection, eyes shadowed. Control. That's what built me. I slid into the king-sized bed. The sheets were crisp, the room dark save for the moonlight filtering through the blinds. Sleep came slowly, but when it did, it was dreamless, for once.
Chapter 8
Aurelia
The late afternoon sun draped Elysian Haven in a golden veil, its rays skimming the lagoon’s surface, turning it into a shimmering mirror of amber and turquoise. I stood in a shaded shed near the ocean shore, the salty breeze teasing the hem of my sundress, a soft ivory number that flowed around my knees, paired with simple white flats that grounded me against the island’s warmth. My hair cascaded in loose waves, spilling over my shoulders and brushing my waist.
The shed was our workspace for today, an open-sided structure of teak and glass, its design blending seamlessly with the island’s aesthetic. The ocean’s rhythmic crash filled the air, mingling with the scent of tropical blooms, jasmine and hibiscus, that drifted in from the nearby gardens.
Theo, Vanya, Riley and Steven were already there, setting up around a long teak table cluttered with laptops, sketchpads, and coffee cups. I tried to anchor myself in the moment, smoothing my dress and clutching the blueprints Victor had provided earlier that day. The weight of the rolled,up plans in my hands was a reminder of the task ahead. Riley leaned against one of the support beams,her sunglasses perched on her head, her glossy lips curved into that familiar half-smirk — the one that always carried more judgment than friendliness.
“Finally,” she said, her tone syrupy but sharp. “Was beginning to think you’d overslept beauty hour, Aurelia.”
I ignored the jab, placing the blueprints on the table. “Just wanted to make sure everything was in order,” I replied smoothly.
Riley’s smirk deepened. “Of course you did.”
Keith sat opposite me, poised and commanding in a tailored linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong, tanned forearms corded with muscle. His sharp jawline, framed by a neatly trimmed beard, was as striking as it had been under the golden pool lights, but today he was all business, cool, composed. His dark hair was neatly styled, no trace of the wet curls that had clung to his forehead last night. His posture was rigid, shoulders squared, as if he’d locked away the warmth I’d felt, his fingers occasionally tapping the table with a measured rhythm. But when his eyes met mine, a spark flickered, brief, but enough to make my pulse stutter.
Victor had greeted us earlier, his crisp black suit an odd contrast to the island’s laid,back vibe. “Mr. Krogen expects precision,” he’d said, handing over the blueprints with his usual clipped efficiency. “These cover every structure, villas, pavilion, spa. Use them to guide your initial concepts.” I’d nodded, my fingers brushing the heavy paper.
Now, as we settled into the shed, I forced myself to focus. The team was buzzing, flipping through the blueprints and tossing around ideas. I spread out my notes, ideas for sustainable fabrics, organic linens, recycled silk and minimalist elegance, but myconcentration wavered. Every time Keith shifted in his seat, the movement drew my eye, his presence like a magnet pulling me in.
Steven broke the hum of work, his voice warm with enthusiasm. “Mr. Krogen, it’s an honor to work on this project. Elysian Haven is already a masterpiece, and we’re thrilled to contribute to it.”
Vanya nodded as she gestured. Theo grinned, leaning back in his chair, his pen tapping against the table. “Yeah, this is next-level. Building an island from scratch? That’s god-tier ambition. Happy to shake hands with the guy making it happen.”
Keith inclined his head, a faint smile softening his sharp features. “I appreciate the enthusiasm. I expect your designs to reflect escape.” His voice was smooth, controlled, but it carried the same resonance that had sent shivers through me last night.
