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“Besides,” Nick adds, wrapping his arms around Sierra from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder, “we’ve got security patrolling outside the complex in case paparazzi try to get in. I’m done watching every step I take. I need at least a week of normality.”
“Sounds perfect,” Colt says, stretching his arms as if already enjoying the freedom.
“You do realize we’re actually going to leave the resort, right?” Sierra chimes in with a smile. “I looked things up on the way here—there are tons of places to visit and activities to try.”
“Yes, we know,” Zayn replies calmly. “And we’ll deal with exposure when it happens. But inside these walls, I want absolute privacy. That means no cell phones for staff during our stay, and all surveillance is monitored by Ryan.”
“What?” Thalia’s voice falters, her expression tensing, as if she’s only now realizing exactly who she’s surrounded by. The most powerful businessmen in New York and London.
And one of them—standing casually to her left—happens to be the most feared man in both cities, and beyond.
“But how are the employees supposed to contact their families if they don’t have phones?” she asks, quieter now, hesitation threading through her tone.
“They have access to landlines, supervised by your security teams,” the manager explains smoothly. “They can make or receive calls whenever necessary.” His reassuring smile never wavers. “I must admit, this is the first time we’ve been asked to meet such strict security conditions, but it’s an honor to host you. Adjusting to your requirements is no trouble at all.”
He gestures toward the beach with an elegant motion. “We’re at your service twenty-four hours a day. If you need anything, simply press the service button next to the bed in your room or near the sinks in the bathrooms.”
With that, he steps back and inclines his head subtly. “I’ll leave you in the care of my colleagues. They’ll guide you to your bungalows. Your luggage has already been delivered. I wish you a pleasant stay and hope you enjoy the beauty of Zanzibar.”
The staff steps forward the moment he leaves, moving in quiet coordination as they guide us along narrow stone paths shaded by tall palm trees.
The air is warm, soft, carrying a faint trace of salt, and hibiscus, and with every step, it feels like we’re being pulled deeper into a secluded world, almost unreal.
They lead us to our accommodations—individual bungalows—which says everything about how private this place really is.
Nick and Sierra, of course, share one. The rest of us are spread along the shoreline, each with our own. Colt’s comes first, followed by Liam’s. After that, I stop paying attention.
I only register one thing. Thalia’s bungalow is right next to mine.
And Nick and Sierra’s sits next to hers, at the far end.
The beach stretches endlessly behind us, untouched and silent except for the steady rhythm of waves and occasional cry of a seabird. The sand is pale—entirely white—and so fine it feels like silk beneath my shoes.
The moment I step off the stone path and onto the white wooden deck of my bungalow, I pause, taking it in.
It’s… all white.
Not the sterile, cold kind you find in hotels, but a warm, diffused tone that reflects the sunlight pouring through the open glass doors.
Everything inside looks like it’s been carved out of light itself.
The walls, the floor, the furniture—white.
The bed is dressed in crisp sheets that almost disappear into the room. The lamps, the curtains, even the cushions follow the same palette.
And the bathtub, placed near the wide window facing the sea, is pure porcelain, gleaming softly in the light that floods the space.
There’s no color anywhere, nothing to break the uniformity except for the faint shimmer of door handles and the delicate blue reflection of the ocean dancing across the glass.
The scent of saltwater drifts inside, carried by a warm breeze that stirs the curtains just enough to give the room a sense of quiet movement. The entire place feels untouched, impossibly clean—like it exists somewhere outside of time.
When I step across the floor barefoot, the surface is cool against my skin, smooth and polished beneath each step.
Through the open doors, the ocean seems endless, layers of blue cutting against the pale stillness around me in a way that almost becomes too much to take in at once.
The silence, the calm, the hypnotic view—it’s enough to make anyone forget the rest of the world exists.
For a moment, I just stand there, hands in my pockets, watching the sunlight spill across the floor, thinking that maybe—just maybe—I could get used to this kind of peace.
