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I let out a low chuckle. “Ellisisthe one who hired her.”
Annie’s laughter bursts out of her before she can stop it. “Of course he did. That man is everywhere.”
I shake my head with a smirk, grabbing our bags from the car. “Come on, let’s get inside. I need a drink.”
Still laughing, Annie follows me, her expression lighter than it had been all day.
The entrance opens into an airy, open-concept space, where the boundary between indoors and outdoors dissolves. Gentle ocean breezes drift through the arching hallways, carrying the faint scent of salt and tropical flowers.
Sightlines straight through the villa and out the doors show a stunning infinity pool that spills over the edge of a stone terrace, its shimmering surface merging effortlessly with the deep blue of the ocean beyond.
The pool appears endless, stretching toward the horizon where sky and sea become one. Wide wooden decks encircle the water, adorned with plush sun loungers and shaded cabanas, perfect for relaxation beneath the Caribbean sun.
The private beach—untouched and completely secluded—is a sea of powdery white sand dotted with towering palms and vibrant greenery, which frame the shoreline, offering a dappled shade and a sense of intimate paradise.
The only sound is the crash of the tide, the whisper of the breeze through the leaves, and the distant call of seabirds overhead.
I stop and take a deep breath. Annie’s right. I really should be using this more. It’s like I can finallybreathe.
The interior is just as expansive as the exterior—open-concept with high ceilings, crisp white walls, and floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a perfect view of the beach. The decor is modern but warm, its furniture, throw rugs, and soft touches making it feel more like a home than a showpiece.
Annie glances around, her fingers brushing over the smooth wood of the staircase as she walks farther in.
“I can give you a tour if you want,” I say.
Her eyes flick to mine, searching. Then, after a beat, she nods. “Okay.”
And just like that, some of the tension in her posture eases.
I want to believe that means she’s feeling better.
I hope she’s feeling better.
The last thing I want is for her to be sick this whole trip.
Chapter Thirty
Annie
My bedroom is so luxurious that it still doesn’t feel real.
I stand in the center of it, my fingers toying with the tie of my swimsuit cover-up as I take everything in again. The ceilings are impossibly high, lined with dark wooden beams that contrast with the crisp white walls. Floor-to-ceiling windows make up one entire side of the room, opening onto a private terrace that overlooks the beach.
The doors are currently pushed open, allowing a warm ocean breeze to filter in, rustling the sheer white curtains. The floors are made of polished wood, smooth and cool beneath my bare feet, and the walls are a seamless blend of white stone and dark wood accents.
The bed is enormous—probably the biggest I’ve ever slept in—with white linen sheets that probably feel like absolute heaven.
At the foot of the bed, a plush sitting area is arranged with light, neutral-colored furniture, upholstered with tropical blues and deep greens. Everything about this place screams peace and relaxation.
To the right, there’s a dressing area with an oversized mirror framed in polished driftwood.
My suitcase is already unpacked, my neatly folded clothes placed into an open wardrobe beside a row of delicate woven baskets filled with essentials. The villa staff must have taken care of it when we arrived, and the efficiency is almost startling.
It’s too beautiful. Too perfect.
And I don’t want to waste a second of it feeling sick.
I exhale slowly, pressing a hand to my stomach. It’s still unsettled, but not nearly as bad as it was on the plane. Maybe I just need time to adjust, or maybe it really was just motion sickness.