Riley was beautiful, polished. The kind of woman men like him usually noticed. The kind who moved through rooms expecting attention and getting it. Yet he’d dismissed her without a second glance, as though she didn’t exist. And here he was, standing in front of me, his gaze steady, his tone softer than it had any right to be.
I didn’t understand it. The way he looked at me wasn’t admiration, or flirtation. It was something else. Something searching, like he was trying to place me in a memory he couldn’t quite reach.
“You should get some rest, Miss Sterling” he said at last, his voice low, controlled, but not unkind.
I nodded, though my heart was still racing. “Goodnight, Mr. Krogen.”
He didn’t answer. Just watched me for a beat longer, eyes unreadable, before turning away.
Chapter 4
Aurelia
Sunlight spilled through the gauzy curtains like liquid gold, pulling me from a sleep that had finally, mercifully, come without chains or grasping fingers. For the first time in what felt like months my dreams had been quiet.
As I swung my legs over the bed's edge, the memory of last night crashed back in. Keith Krogen rising from the pool like some shadowed myth, water tracing the lines of that scar across his chest. The way his eyes had held mine, steady and unreadable. Heat crept up my neck even now, a fresh wave of mortification. I'd been a fool, spilling secrets to a stranger in a nightgown that hid nothing. What must he think of me? Fragile. Exposed.Broken.
I shook it off, padding to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. The mirror showed a woman who looked... rested, if not quite whole. Dark circles faded to shadows, cheeks flushed from sleep rather than panic. I dressed quickly in linen pants the color of sea foam and a loose white blouse that billowed in the breeze from the open balcony doors. Professional, but island-soft. My sketchbook tucked under my arm, I stepped out into the corridor, the air already humming with humidity and the distant calls of tropical birds.
Theo was waiting outside his door, mid-sip from a steaming mug of coffee, his curls tamed into something resembling order. He brightened when he saw me, but his eyes narrowed, scanning my face like he could read the secrets etched there. "Morning, sunshine. You look... suspiciously glowy. Spill. What sorcery happened after our little pow-wow last night?"
I hesitated, glancing down the path toward the main pavilion where the team would gather. The island was alive in the morning light. "Not sorcery. Just... couldn't sleep right away. Went for a walk. Ended up at the infinity pool."
Theo's eyebrows shot up, his mug pausing halfway to his lips. "The pool? At midnight? Babe, that's prime ghost-hunting territory. Did you summon spirits or something?"
“I met Mr Krogen last night.” I confessed.
He leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as we started walking. "You methim. Keith freaking Krogen. In the flesh. Spilleverything."
I bit my lip, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners. Theo had a way of making even the mortifying sound like a rom-com plot twist. "Okay, fine. Yeah. He was... swimming. Or something. Late-night dip. We talked. Briefly. And then Riley showed up, all silk robe and zero chill."
Theo stopped dead on the path, his free hand flying to his chest in dramatic horror. "Riley? At the pool? WithKeith Krogen? Oh my God, Aurelia, this is better than I imagined. What did she do—bat her lashes and offer to 'discuss blueprints' over body shots? And you were there? Front-row seat to the trainwreck?"
"Worse," I said, laughing despite the knot in my stomach. "She tried flirting with him. He shut her down cold. Didn't even blink."
Theo's jaw dropped, his hazel eyes wide with gleeful shock. "Hedismissedher? Riley Hayes, queen of the calculated coy? Girl, I need details. Was he brooding and mysterious? Towering and terrifying? Or—don't lie—did you find him sexy? Come on, those cheekbones alone could launch a thousand fanfics. Admit it."
I rolled my eyes, heat prickling my cheeks again as we reached the pavilion's shaded entrance. The team was already milling about—Vanya sorting fabric swatches, Steven hunched over his tablet, Riley perched on a stool like a bird of paradise, her sundress a slash of crimson against the wooden furniture. "Theo, he's our client. And our boss's boss's boss or whatever. But... fine. He's not bad. Objectively. Like, if ambition was a cologne, he'd smell like it."
Theo cackled, slinging an arm around my shoulders as we joined the group. "Not bad? Aurelia Sterling, that's code for 'I need a fan and a cold shower.' This is gold. Pure gold."
The morning blurred into a whirlwind of work after that. Susan had beamed us in via video call from the mainland, her crisp voice laying out the day's priorities: mood boards for the villas, material sourcing for the pavilion, and preliminary sketches for the spa wing. We spread out across the conference room. sun-drenched space with walls of sliding glass that opened to the lagoon, pinned sketches to corkboards, debated palettes until our throats were raw.
Theo and I tag-teamed the villa interiors, layering in those sustainable touches: reclaimed teak accents, solar-powered sconces that mimicked fireflies at dusk. Vanya's handwoven rug concepts added warmth, Steven's lighting mocks brought thedrama. Even Riley contributed—grudgingly at first—suggesting metallic threads in the linens that caught the light like scattered coins. Itworked, somehow. The energy crackled, ideas bouncing like fireflies in the humid air.
By midday, we'd broken for a working lunch on the deck. Fresh poke bowls and iced hibiscus tea when the air shifted. A hush fell over the table, heads turning as one. Keith Krogen strode in, Victor a shadow at his elbow. He was dressed for command. Charcoal trousers tailored to his frame, a crisp white shirt rolled to the elbows, revealing forearms corded with quiet strength. No tie, no pretense, but the room shrank around him all the same. That scar peeked from his collar, a white slash against tanned skin, and his eyes, storm-gray, unyielding. Swept the space like he was cataloging threats.
Susan’s face flickered on the screen behind us, her voice brightening. "Mr. Krogen! Perfect timing. Team, this is Keith Krogen, visionary behind Elysian Haven. Mr Krogen, meet the dream-weavers. Theo Mancini, Vanya Patel, Steven Locke, Riley Hayes, and Aurelia Sterling."
Introductions rippled around the table, hands extended, voices steady but laced with that undercurrent of awe. Theo flashed his golden-retriever grin, Vanya's bangles jingled warmly, Steven gave a firm nod. I stood last, my palm meeting his in a grip that was brief but electric. Warm skin, calluses from... what? "Ms. Sterling," he said, voice low and even, like last night hadn't happened. Like he hadn't seen me unravel.
Riley leaned forward then, her smile all honeyed edges, crossing her legs with deliberate grace. "Oh, but we've already met, Mr. Krogen. Last night, by the pool. Late hours make for the best... connections, don't you think?"
The table froze, a collective intake of breath. Theo's foot nudged mine under the table, his eyes screamingdrama!. Keith's expression didn't flicker. He released my hand too soon, too cool. And turned to her with the barest incline of his head. "Business hours, Miss Hayes. Let's keep it there." It wasn't cruel, just final, like drawing a line in wet sand. Riley's cheeks pinked, her laugh a touch too bright as she sank back, but the dismissal hung in the air, sharp as broken glass.
The rest of the day dissolved into focused chaos. Keith circled the room like a sentinel, pausing at sketches, offering clipped insights "More light here. Let the ocean breathe." His presence a low hum that set my pulse skittering whenever he drifted near. By late afternoon, as the sun dipped toward the horizon in a blaze of coral and gold, we'd wrapped the core concepts. High-fives all around, Susan's approval crackling through the speakers. Exhaustion settled in my bones, sweet and earned, but that prickle remained. A whisper of dread, like the island's beauty was a mask, hiding teeth beneath the waves.
As dusk painted the sky in bruised purples, the team migrated to the beach for what Victor called a "relaxation night." Company bonding, island-style. A bonfire crackling on the sand, flames leaping like eager spirits. Soft acoustic guitar strumming from hidden speakers, weaving through the symphony of waves, platters of grilled skewers and tropical fruits passed hand to hand. Laughter rose in waves, Theo holding court with exaggerated tales of mainland mishaps, Vanya and Steven debating art installations over glasses of rosé. Riley lounged on a driftwood log, her crimson dress swapped for something diaphanous and gold, drawing eyes but nursing her wine in silence.
