CHAPTER 1
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ARIANA
The wheels of her suitcase clicked against polished marble, each sound echoing too loudly through the luxury resort lobby. Every turn reminding her—she was alone.
She wasn’t supposed to check in solo. Not at a five-star island resort where couples posed under palm trees and shared cocktails with names like "Love on the Reef." She was supposed to be draped over Dylan’s arm, smiling like every other woman who got whisked away for sun-drenched sex and lazy mornings tangled in hotel sheets.
Hopefully he will be here soon.
Her friends had practically shoved her onto the plane, telling her to “make the best of it” and “turn this into a self-love trip.” She hated that phrase.Self-lovesounded like something a therapist or a vibrator manual would say.
Still, here she was, checking in with a tight smile and a bright floral sundress she had absolutely bought for someone else's benefit.
The resort attendant handed her a keycard and a coconut drink with a red flower in it. “Welcome to Silverwater Island, Miss Lennox. We hope your stay is magical.”
Magical.That was one word for it.
“Thank you,” Ariana said with a polite node.
“This way, Miss Ariana.” The receptionist guided her toward the elevator.
Ariana headed toward the rooms, pulling her heavy luggage bags. As soon as the doors closed behind her, the false smile cracked. Her shoulders sagged. Her fingers dug into the suitcase handle.
Two years with Dylan. She should’ve seen it coming. The slow replies. The missed dates. That vague shift frommy girlfriendtoArianawhen introducing her at events. He hadn’t brought her flowers in months. Hell, he barely brought himself.
She stepped into her suite—and gasped.
Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a panoramic view of turquoise waves crashing into white sand. A private plunge pool glittered on the balcony. She could even see a little stretch of coral reef below.
She dropped her bag and walked straight to the edge, pressing her palms to the glass. The sea stretched out forever, glittering under the sun like scattered diamonds.
She unlocked her phone and hit the video call button. She’d been missing Dylan the entire trip.
It rang. And rang.
No answer. The call ended, and his last message lit up her screen again:
Dylan:Can’t make it. Big celeb event just came up. You understand, babe. I owe you.
No phone call. No FaceTime. Just a lazy, impersonal brush-off sent while she was literally boarding her flight.
For the first time since Dylan’s text, her chest eased. Maybe this didn’t have to be a complete disaster. Maybe she didn’t need anyone to make this trip beautiful.
Not him. Not anyone.
Then again, she hadn’t seen the island’s deeper shadows.
Not yet.
Ariana slipped into the electric blue bikini she’d packed on a dare—the one she told herself she’d never actually wear. It clung to her curves, tied high on the hips, barely covering anything in the back. Her heart beat a little faster as she looked in the mirror.
Too much?Maybe. But it was too late.
She reached for the sheer white sarong and wrapped it low around her waist, fingers lingering at the knot a second too long. It didn’t hide much. That was the point.
Her chest tightened. She didn’t feel bold. Not really.