Page 121 of Red Flagged
We landed just before dusk.
Callum guided me from the plane to a waiting car, and the moment the doors closed, his hand found my thigh. Like he was making sure I didn’t slip away.
The drive from the tiny island airstrip to our villa didn’t take long, maybe twenty minutes. But it was enough time for the nerves to come back. I wasn’t sure why. We were good. We were better than good. So why was my heart fluttering like something big was coming? Was it because he was quieter than usual? Less talkative, almost nervous.
When we pulled up to the villa, I understood the appeal. Why he’d always wanted to visit here.
The house was carved into the cliffside, all open-concept and whitewashed stone, with wide archways in place of doors and linen curtains pulled back to let the breeze move freely through the space. Everything felt sun-bleached and slow and sacred, as if time didn’t pass here. Like it waited for you to be ready.
We walked through quietly, our footsteps echoing. Callum set our bags down beside the white leather couch before tipping his head toward the beach path.
On the far side of the terrace, a stone pathway led down through wildflowers to a stretch of private beach. The cliffs behind us were washed gold by the sinking sun, and in front of us… an entireambiance. Right there on the sand. Lanterns flickered along a path of scattered rose petals, leading from the edge of the villa down to the beach. And at the end of thatpath, a low wooden table sat beneath a gauzy canopy, the fabric fluttering in the sea breeze.
Two glasses for champagne. A platter of olives and fruit. A chilled bottle sweating in an ice bucket. Candles glowed like tiny constellations on every surface. The entire Aegean stretched out in front of us in glittering blue under the fading sun.
Callum came to stand behind me, his hands on my bare shoulders.
“Welcome to Milos, my love.” His accent was thicker than usual, the way that made me weak in the knees.
I exhaled. “This is insane.”
“It’s just dinner.”
“Just dinner?” I turned to look at him, brow raised. “You flew us on your private jet, booked a cliffside villa, and coordinated an intimate dinner on the beach timed with the sun setting.”
His dimple made an appearance. “Like I said. Just dinner.” He looked so calm. So smug. So completely in love that I wanted to cry.
He offered his arm, and I took it, letting him lead me down to the beach.
My heart was pounding again. Not because of the setting. Not because of the ridiculous extravagance. Because something about the way he looked at me—like he was memorizing this moment—made me feel like he was about to change everything.
And I wasn’t scared of it this time, but I prayed that I wasn’t just hoping for something he wasn’t ready for.
Callum took shoes off at the edge of the villa, bending to slip them from my ankles. Now, each step left a little imprint behind me, grains clinging to my toes as the salt-sweet breeze swept through my hair.
The sand was warm beneath my feet. Waves crashed soft and slow against the shoreline, turning everything into a lullaby. A song just for us.
The air smelled like sea salt and jasmine, and I inhaled deeply, desperate to etch this into my memory.
When we reached the table, he didn’t let me sit. Instead, he turned me gently to face the horizon—one hand on my waist, the other slipping down my bare arm until our fingers laced.
There was a beat of stillness. One breath. Then another. And I thought,how the hell did we get here?
From strangers on a grid to this. To trust. To love. To a beach in Greece with the man who broke me and still became my home.
The sun was nearly gone now, the sky stained in streaks of lavender and pink. It was stupidly beautiful. Stupidly romantic. Stupidlyus. The kind of thing you read about in books and see in movies and assumed nobody ever actually got.
I had the briefest, wildest thought that maybe I was dreaming. That a fantasy had formed in order to protect myself, and that it would dissolve like seafoam the moment I blinked.
But then he stepped in front of me and dropped to one knee.
I gasped. “Callum?—”
He shook his head. “Let me say it first.”
The wind caught his hair. His eyes were so impossibly blue. And shining. And soft. Andsteadyin the way he looked at me.
And all those feelings I’d been holding at bay—hope, longing, fear, joy—rushed to the surface like a wave. My heart flipped and butterflies erupted in my stomach.
