"I'm Leilani." She extended her hand, first to me, then to Sebastian. "Mr. Kahale's niece. I help run things around here." Her eyes sparkled. "And I'm guessing you two are our prospective buyers?"
"Yes," Sebastian said, his voice remarkably steady for a man who'd been ready to kiss me senseless thirty seconds ago. "Sebastian Dubois."
"Aria Kealoha."
"Oh, I know who you both are." Leilani's smile widened. "Uncle's been talking about nothing else for weeks. Though he didn't mention you two were..." She gestured vaguely between us. "Acquainted."
"We're not," I said quickly.
"As you have already deduced, this woman and I are complete strangers," Sebastian added.
Leilani looked between us, clearly unconvinced. "Right. Well. Uncle's looking forward to meeting with you both tomorrow." She pointed down a hallway lined with vintage photographs. "Third door on the left. Don't be late, he's a stickler for punctuality."
She wandered off.
I turned back to Sebastian. The moment had broken, but the anger was still there, simmering beneath my skin.
"This isn't over," I said. My voice was shaking now, and I hated it. "Whatever you think is going to happen here, whatever plan you have, I promise you, Sebastian. I'm not going to make it easy."
I turned and walked away before he could respond.
My sandals were still on the floor where I'd dropped them. I scooped them up without breaking stride, refusing to look back, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how rattled I was.
Because the truth was, if Leilani hadn't interrupted, I would have let him kiss me, right there in the middle of the lobby.
And I hated myself for it.
I couldn’t sleep.
I lay in my hotel room, staring at the ceiling fan rotating lazily overhead, listening to the distant crash of waves against the shore. The windows were open, letting in the salt breeze and the chirping of night insects, but nothing could quiet the chaos in my head.
Sebastian Dubois was here. In this hotel. Sleeping somewhere in this same building, probably in a suite just as beautiful as mine, probably lying awake, running through the same calculations I was.
The universe had a sick sense of humor.
I'd been desperate to escape him. When Mr. Kahale's representative had called with the invitation to visit, to spend two weeks experiencing the property before making a final decision, I'd agreed on the spot. Hawaii felt safe. Far enoughfrom New York, from the foundation, from the memory of his hands on my skin and his mouth on mine.
Part of me wanted to pack my bags and catch the first flight back to Manhattan. Let him have the hotel. Let him win this round. Anything to get away from the gravitational pull he seemed to have on me, the way my body responded to his presence even when my mind was screaming to run.
But I couldn't do that. This hotel meant too much. My family's history was woven into these walls, and I wouldn't let Sebastian Dubois take that from me just because I couldn't control my own reactions.
I spent the whole night wracking my brain, trying to think of what to do. I couldn’t go back, that was out of the question. This hotel needed me. There was no way I was going to let Sebastian Dubois get his grubby fingers on it.
After hours of tossing and turning, I finally had a plan by morning.
I would stay as far away from him as possible. I would focus on what mattered, proving to Mr. Kahale that I was the right choice, that I understood this place in a way Sebastian never could. I would be professional, composed, untouchable.
I would not think about the kiss.
I showered, dressed in a simple white sundress and leather sandals, and made my way to the hotel restaurant for breakfast.
The space took my breath away.
Open-air, with no walls separating the dining area from the gardens beyond, just carved wooden pillars draped with flowering vines. The ceiling was high and thatched, letting in shafts of golden morning light that fell across the white tablecloths like scattered coins. Beyond the edge of the terrace, the ocean stretched to the horizon, impossibly blue, waves rolling in with a rhythm that felt like breathing.
The smell hit me next, fresh pineapple and papaya from the fruit station, the rich darkness of Kona coffee, something warm and sweet that might have been banana bread baking in the kitchen. A few other guests were scattered at the tables, murmuring in low voices, but the atmosphere was peaceful. Unhurried. The kind of peace that seeped into your bones and made you want to stay forever.
I chose a table near the railing, where I could watch the waves while I ate. A server appeared almost immediately, a young man with kind eyes and a flower tucked behind his ear, and I ordered coffee and the fresh fruit plate.
