Chapter 1
The Retreat, Allegedly
JULIETTE
Theairwasdryand warm, spiced with dust and something green underneath—not floral or sweet, but sharp enough to strip everything down to its essentials.
My breath caught, shallow and involuntary, as I stepped off the plane and onto the tarmac. With my blazer folded over one arm and Saint Laurent sunglasses already in place, the sun pressed against my neck—a persistent, localized assault.
September in South Africa had missed the memo about seasonal transitions.
The transfer was as seamless as I expected. Wilder Horizons didn't partner with operations that missed details, especially when I was technically appearing as a guest. A black Land Rover waited nearby while cold water appeared in my hand and my bagwas lifted away before I could even reach for the strap. I didn't look for my bag; it was already gone. I didn’t reach for water; it was already in my hand.
The vehicle pulled forward, smooth and unhurried, as the city began to thin and roads narrowed. Asphalt eventually gave way to packed earth, the landscape stretching wide and unbothered under a pale sky reached for by scrubby, flat-topped trees. The farther we drove, the quieter it became, until the hum of the tires intruded on the silence.
If I vanished out here, at least the setting would earn five stars.
I lowered the window, letting the scents deepen into red dirt and warm stone and a trace of old smoke. Animals shifted in the brush beyond the road, moving with a purpose that had nothing to do with my itinerary.
My phone vibrated. My older sister’s name flashed across the screen, thumb hovering for a fraction too long before I swiped. The call connected without a hitch in my breathing. “I’m here.”
“I know,” Summer said. “I watched your dot stop moving.”
“Yes. That is generally how arrivals work.”
She exhaled, a familiar sound that collapsed the miles between us. “Your ‘calm’ voice is usually followed by a site audit.”
“I’m here to rest, Summer. This trip was practically forced upon me.”
“You're on a retreat for CEOs, Juliette. Not a scouting mission for our next acquisition. You promised you wouldn’t turn this into reconnaissance.”
“I promised not to disrupt anyone else’s experience,” I said. “If something inefficient happens to exist in my line of sight, that’s between them and God.”
“Juliette.”
My thumb pressed against my pen, clicking it twice before I stilled it. “Iamcapable of sitting still, Summer.”
“Precedent disagrees. In multiple jurisdictions.”
The landscape blurred past the window, scrub and sky stretching wide. “I’ll check in every couple of days. If something catches fire—figuratively—text me.”
“Nothing is on fire.”
“Good.”
A pause.
“You deserve a week where no one needs you,” she said.
The pen stayed still this time. “We’ll see.”
Summer’s silence through the speaker carried the same steady energy she’d used since we were kids—contain first, react later. It’s an instinct that made her an excellent COO. It also meant she felt the strain before anyone else did. Here in Africa, the red dust felt like an antidote to the Florida coast—and to the high-stakes friction of our family business. Keeping my five sisters, all of them brilliant and none of them quiet, moving in the same direction was a constant calculation.
The road curved, and the main lodge finally rose out of the bush like it belonged there—a series of low, wide structures built from stone and wood, designed to let the landscape swallow them whole. There were no fences or walls, just the vastness of space and the subtle suggestion of boundaries.
This was what my family specialized in at Wilder Horizons: the illusion of untouched.
The SUV stopped and the doors fell open. The manager greeted me with a chilled towel and a tablet already loaded with my itinerary at Mara Khaya Private Reserve. My private tented safari suite wasn’t here. This was only the threshold.
