Apparently, on White Thorn Island,youdon’t carryanythingexcept stress, grudges, and a strategically packed vibrator in your carry on.
After they transfer our luggage, we make our way across the tarmac toward the dockside bar. Laurel already ordered a daiquiri and traipsed off to schmooze with execs from the other firms.
By the time we speed-walk to the nearest shade table, my hair’s glued to the back of my neck, my deodorant has officially thrown in the towel, and I’m two degrees away from rage-sweating. The sun is merciless, no warm-up, just raw, blistering dominance. Even the palm trees look offended.
Maya lowers her sunglasses, studies me. “Alright. What’s that face?”
Jeremy’s leaning halfway across the table, waving down a bartender with the desperation of a man dying for a frozen drink. “She’s got Nolan on the brain,” he announces.
I shoot him a death glare. “I hope you choke on your stupid tiny umbrella.”
“Oh, please. You adore me,” he sings. “Sixteen hours of thigh grazing and smoldering tension? Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy playing sky-high seduction.”
“We didn’t play anything,” I say.
Jeremy leans in, stage whispering, “Right. And your little nappy nap? On. His. Shoulder. Not to mention the blanket situation…”
“Wait,” Maya interjects. “Did you give him a handie under a monogrammed throw?”
I groan. “Absolutely not.”
Jeremy grins, devilish. “Shame. Would’ve been a great story. Five stars for turbulence.”
The drinks land and we grab them like sinners at communion, parched and desperate, worshipping at the altar of crushed ice and rum.
Maya holds up a finger, suddenly solemn. “Look at me.” I do. “Don’t let his jawline or your tragic sex drought steer you off course.We came to win, not to ride the Rhodes.” She sips her drink. “Keep your crown, bitch.”
My mind stutters back to Maya’s monogrammed throw comment.
I blink. “Did Nolan put a blanket on me?”
Jeremy’s smirks resembles a cat who just knocked something off the counter on purpose. “Yeah, while you were out cold. Real tender moment. Gave the rest of us heart palpitations.”
I replay the scene—me waking up, warm, covered, Nolan pretending to be asleep.
That asshole.
He covered me. Quietly. Gently. Without needing credit.
And now that I know it hits different. Sweet in a way that’s lethal. The type that sneaks in when your defenses are down, crawls under your skin, and stays there.
And Ihatehow much it makes my heart squeeze.
But—no. Absolutely not. That is not a narrative I will be subscribing to, thank you.
The frozen margarita glides down my throat, cold, blessedly numbing. I want to crawl inside the glass and live there forever.
Maya’s eyes shift toward the dock. I follow her gaze. Nolan is still with Rishi, who’s wearing fitted linen pants, designer sunglasses, and a shit ton of confidence. Tall, toned, with that hot professor vibe and the high cheekbones to match.
“Rishi is a walking vacation fantasy.” Maya licks her lips. “I might make him my island rebound. I bet he comes with room service and a safe word.”
“You saidcomesand my soul left my body via erection.”
“You are disturbed,” I laugh.
Nolan’s eyes are on me. Expression brooding. Glass in hand.
My pulse spikes. I take a long sip of my drink, straighten my spine, and turn back to my friends.
