I lean back against the seat, raising an eyebrow. Another billionaire with a pet project. It sounds like a fantasy for the ultra-rich, a world I’ll never touch. Still, the nameElysian Havenlodges itself in my mind, conjuring images of turquoise waves and glass-walled villas gleaming under a perfect sun. I shake my head, dismissing it. Just another headline.
The cab weaves through morning traffic, the city nothing but streaks of chrome and glass. When we pull up to my office building, a sleek tower catching sunlight like a sharpened blade. I pay the driver and step out. I’ve barely taken two steps toward the revolving doors when Theo appears, practically bouncing like a golden retriever who’s spotted his favorite human.
He’s tall and lean, curls perfectly messy, hazel eyes bright with mischief and caffeine. His olive skin glows like he just teleported from a beach in Capri. Today he’s in a charcoal blazer over a white shirt, the top button undone. Theo’s signature ‘I woke up like this, but also spent forty minutes perfecting it’ look.
“Aureliaaa!” he calls, jogging over with that grin that could power a small city. But then his smile falters as he gets a closer look at me. “Girl… what happened toyou? You look like you wrestled a demon in your sleep and lost. Bad night? Babes, talk to me.”
I blink, caught off guard. “I’m fine. Just… tired, that’s all.”
“Fine?” he repeats dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Lies. I know you. Those are ‘I didn’t sleep, don’t speak to me’ eyes.”He leans in. “You need coffee? A hug? A priest? I can arrange any of the three.”
I laugh despite myself. “Theo, I’m okay, seriously.”
He squints suspiciously but lets it go. Then, instantly, his expression lights up again. “Okay,anyway, babes, did you hear about Keith Krogen’s new project? Elysian Haven?” He grabs my arm as we walk inside. “Oh. My. God. Girl. It’s insane. The man has literally built an island. Who wakes up one day and says ‘Hmm, I think I’ll just… create land today’?”
I snort. “Caught it on the radio. Sounds like a billionaire fever dream.”
Theo gasps theatrically. “Fever dream? Babes, it’s a masterpiece. And have youseenhim?” He fans himself. “Keith Krogen is a whole event. Cheekbones carved by the gods, jawline sharp enough to slice my self-esteem in half. And those eyes? Stormy, tortured, sexy like he’s thinking about his tragic past while leaning against a Maserati.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you haven’t even heard the best part,” he continues, unfazed. “The man became a billionaire stupidly young. Built half his empire from real estate alone. Like, yes, daddy Krogen is rich, but Keith did his own thing. Brains, money, looks? Girl, the holy trinity.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “If ambition had a face, it would be him. I’d donate a kidney to shake his hand. Maybe both.”
“You’d die, Theo.”
“Happily.” He replies, dramatically.
I laugh, shaking my head as the elevator doors close behind us. “Theo! Don’t let the money fool you. Rich doesn’t mean righteous. Don’t hype them up like they’re gods.”
“Babes,” Theo says, flipping his curls with dramatic flair, “if being rich automatically made you a saint, half this city would be glowing. Let me just admire the shine from a safe distance.”
The elevator dings, and we step into the open, plan office, all glass partitions and sleek furniture. The space hums with the usual morning chaos. Phones ringing, keyboards clacking, the low murmur of designers debating color palettes. I drop my bag at my desk, a small corner station cluttered with sketches and post-it notes, and take a moment to breathe. Theo’s still chattering about Krogen, but I tune him out, trying to anchor myself in the present.
Before I can even open my laptop, Susan’s voice cuts through the noise. “Team meeting, now,” she calls from the conference room doorway. Susan’s in her usual sharp gray suit, her dark hair pulled into a neat bun that screams authority. But today, there’s a spark in her eyes, a rare excitement that makes everyone sit up a little straighter. “Everyone to the conference room.”
Theo and I exchange a glance, his eyebrows shooting up as we join the others filing in. Susan stands at the head, a stack of papers neatly arranged in front of her, her posture as commanding as ever. The room buzzes with anticipation as we settle in. Theo slides into the chair next to me with a conspiratorial grin.
“Good morning, everyone,” Susan begins, her voice crisp and controlled. “I’ll keep this brief because we have a lot to cover. We’ve just landed a project that will redefine this firm’s legacy. It’s one of the biggest contracts we’ve ever secured.” She pauses, letting the weight of her words sink in, her gaze sweeping theroom. “I’m thrilled to announce that our firm has been selected to lead the interior design for Keith Krogen’s prestigious Elysian Haven Resort.”
The room erupts into gasps and excited murmurs. Theo nudges my arm, his grin practically splitting his face. “Told you,” he whispers. “Epic.”
Susan raises a hand, silencing the chatter. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Krogen’s vision is unparalleled, an island built from nothing, designed to be the ultimate luxury escape. Our job is to create interiors that match that ambition. Every detail, from the lobby to the private villas, needs to scream opulence and innovation. I’m putting together a core team to travel to the island next week to begin on-site work. Aurelia, Theo, Vanya, Riley, and Steven, you’re on this. You’ll be working directly with Krogen to bring this vision to life.”
Vanya claps her hands, her bangles jingling, and Steven pumps a fist, his usual stoic demeanor cracking with excitement. Riley seems like she knew she was bound to get chosen. Theo leans over again, his voice a stage whisper. “We’re going to an island, Aurelia. With Keith Krogen. This is the dream.”
The rest of the team is buzzing, their energy infectious. Ideas are already flying. Susan fields questions with her usual efficiency, outlining timelines and expectations. Everyone seems thrilled, riding the high of landing such a massive project.
But me? I’m frozen in my chair, a strange unease twisting in my gut. I should be ecstatic. This is the kind of break designers dream of, the kind of project that could make my career. Yet something feels wrong, like a shadow lingering at the edge of my vision. Those hands from my nightmare, the ones that tried to drag medown, feel closer than ever. I try to shake it off, to focus on Susan’s voice, but the feeling won’t leave. Elysian Haven. Keith Krogen. It’s all too much, too fast, and I can’t help but wonder what I’m walking into.
Chapter 2
Keith
The heavy oak doors of my father's study loomed like ancient sentinels, polished to a gleam that reflected the opulence of the Krogen family mansion. I pushed them open with a deliberate shove, the hinges creaking just enough to announce my arrival. The room enveloped me immediately. The familiar, heady scent of aged leather from the oversized armchairs, the rich aroma of cigar smoke lingering in the air like a perpetual fog, and the faint undercurrent of scotch that my father, Marcus Krogen, seemed to exude from his pores.
The study was a fortress of power: walls lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with tomes on business, history, and the art of war, interspersed with family portraits that stared down with judgmental eyes. A massive crystal chandelier hung overhead, casting fractured light across the Persian rug that muffled our footsteps.
Marcus was already in the throes of one of his infamous rages, pacing back and forth like a caged lion. His face was a storm cloud, flushed red with fury, veins bulging at his temples. In onehand, he clutched a tumbler of scotch, the ice clinking rhythmically with each step. His tailored suit, usually impeccable, was rumpled, the tie loosened as if he'd been tugging at it in frustration. At sixty-five, he still cut an imposing figure. Broad shoulders, a barrel chest, and a glare that could wilt steel. But today, that glare wasn’t meant for me. It burned at something deeper, something even he couldn’t control.
