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That’s when it happens.
A couple by one of the jewelry booths does a double-take. I see the woman lean into her partner, whispering excitedly, their eyes flicking to Carter, to me, back to Carter.
Recognition flashes across their faces.
Panic prickles at my skin. Of course people know him.
He’s Carter freaking Volcor.
I shift slightly away from him without thinking, the old reflex of “you don’t belong here” tightening my chest.
Before I can retreat further, Carter notices. He steps closer, his hand sliding possessively to the small of my back, his mouth dipping to my ear.
“They can look all they want,” he murmurs, his voice a low rasp. “I’m with you. Only you.”
My heart stutters.
The couple looks away, and Carter presses a kiss just below my ear, just because he can.
“Ivy,” he says softly, “you’re the only thing I see right now.”
Universe… would you just swallow me up already?
We spend the next hour wandering the market, laughing over the touristy souvenirs and letting island time swallow us whole. Carter insists on buying me a delicate shell bracelet from a little girl selling jewelry with her grandmother. He fastens it around my wrist himself, his fingers lingering a second longer than necessary.
“For luck,” he says, his voice husky. “And maybe… to remember this day.”
The afternoon stretches lazy and golden as we make one last stop—an isolated black sand beach.
The sand is cool under my feet as we kick off our shoes. The beach curves into a crescent hugged by volcanic cliffs, the ocean gentle and glassy under the muted sun.
Carter drags a towel from the Jeep and tosses it down on the sand. We sit side by side, the sound of the waves filling the comfortable silence between us.
He leans back on his elbows, one knee bent, watching the water with that faraway look I’m starting to recognize—the look of a man carrying more than he says.
Without thinking, I reach over and trace the shell bracelet he gave me. He catches my hand, twining our fingers together.
“I don’t want to go back yet,” I say in barely a whisper.
He looks at me then—really looks—and the emotion in his eyes floors me.
“Then we stay,” he says simply. “We stay as long as you want.”
And for a little while, we do. Wrapped in salt air and sun-warmed skin, pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
But I know that it does. I know that this man I am crazy about is the owner of V Corp. Or should I say, Volcor Holdings.
I know I should tell him. I should sit up, say the words out loud, shatter this fragile, perfect moment with the truth.
But I don’t.
Not yet.
Because right now, I just want to lay in his arms a little longer.
Pretend.
Breathe.