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“Girl, I swear this island is straight out of a fucking fantasy.”

I pressed my phone against my ear as I pushed my small suitcase across the private tarmac, taking in the sheer luxury of Iluna Cay. The heat hit me first—thick, golden, and humid, wrapping around me like a slow caress. The scent of salt, hibiscus, and something impossibly expensive filled the air, making me realize just how out of my element I was.

“And that’s a bad thing?”

Tyrae teased through the phone. “Honey, do you know how many people would kill to be on that island right now? This is your shot, bitch.”

I exhaled. She wasn’t wrong.

The Elite Entrepreneur Retreat was thee event for up-and-coming business owners. Investors flew in from all over the world, looking for 'the next big thing', and somehow, I had landed an all-expenses-paid invitation through my TikTok account. Not that I didn’t work my ass off for it.

I wasn’t just some random influencer who got lucky. I had built something. Honey Luxe Beauty started in my small kitchen almost two years ago. At first, it was just DIY skincare for myself, then for my friends, and then before I knew it, I was shipping out small-batch organic products to hundreds of customers. When my viral TikTok video explaining the power of clean beauty took off, my sales tripled overnight.

That’s how I got noticed. That’s how I got the invite. Now, all I needed was at least one investor to believe in me.

“I know, I know,”

I muttered, adjusting my sunglasses as I followed a small group of guests toward the waiting golf carts. “I just... girl, I think these people are on a different level. Like… I’m trying to get a brand off the ground. They already have multiple successful exits. What makes me different?”

“And what do I always say?”

I rolled my eyes. “You don’t have to be in the room to be the richest, just the most talented.”

“Damn right. Now get off my phone and go be unapologetically you.”

“Fine, fine,”

I laughed before hanging up.

By the time I arrived to the resort, an attendant dressed in an immaculate white linen uniform was already waiting for me, a glass of chilled champagne in hand. “Welcome to Iluna Cay,”

she greeted smoothly. “I assume you’re here for the retreat so please, allow me to escort you to your villa.”

I accepted the champagne, my fingers grazing the chilled glass as I took a sip. It was crisp, perfect, and probably worth more than my rent back home. By the time I was alone in my villa, I felt both awestruck and restless.

The space was gorgeous—a flawless blend of modern architecture and tropical luxury. Floor-to-ceiling windows, a balcony overlooking the water, and a bathroom that looked straight out of a five-star spa.

I slipped out onto the balcony, leaning against the glass railing as I took in the view. Turquoise waves lapped lazily against the shore, the sky painted in soft hues of orange and pink as the sun began its descent. I had never seen anything so breathtaking.

And then, something caught my eye. A man—tall as hell and ridiculously fine—walked along the beach like he owned the damn ocean. Shit, maybe he did. His shirt was unbuttoned just enough to reveal a hint of tattoos on his chest leading to the ones on his strong-looking arms on his chocolate skin. The salt and pepper beard thing worked for him too.

Well, goddamn… I swallowed hard, watching as he disappeared down a private path. Something about him sent a slow, unwanted chill down my spine. I shook off the distraction and focused on the real reason I was there. Walking back into my villa, I started to get ready for the mixer that was in an hour.

I slipped into a cream-colored maxi dress that hugged my curves in just the right way and brown wedges with gold accessories. It was professional but also just enough to make an impression. I kept my makeup glowy and effortless, the kind of look that said I was already successful, I just needed the money to match. I left my hair out of its twists, long and wavy, cascading down my back. Although I was sure I’d regret it as the night went on and it was stuck to my neck from the damn heat.

The mixer was beautifully organized on the grand terrace of the resort. It oozed money, power, and exclusivity. A string quartet played softly in the background and servers glided through the crowd with flutes of champagne and gourmet appetizers.

I forced myself to exude confidence, stepping into the crowd, mingling, shaking hands, smiling like I wasn’t freaking out inside. I introduced myself to a few other entrepreneurs—some cool, some so full of themselves I had to resist rolling my eyes. I met a woman named Mosha Sinclair, who had already secured funding and offered me a few tips.

“Investors don’t care about passion,”

she said, sipping her wine. “They care about scalability. Play up your numbers. The rest is fluff.”

Noted. I made my way toward a group of investors, my heart pounding, but I pushed through. I gave my pitch—concise, polished, exactly the way I had practiced for weeks. And yet…

“Sounds interesting, but I’m looking for something with a higher growth trajectory.”

“I’m not really in the beauty space.”

“I’d need to see more financials before even considering.”

Every rejection was polite but brutal. By the time I had struck out with my fifth investor and turned down yet another corny dude asking for my phone number, my stomach was in knots. I needed air. As I walked off, my heels clicking against the stone pathway, frustration bubbling inside me. That’s when I saw it—a dimly lit bar, tucked away behind a set of black-paneled doors.

“Thank God.”

I stepped inside and was immediately met with the low hum of jazz and the scent of whiskey and cigars curling through the air. It wasn't crowded and I was thankful. I slid onto a barstool, exhaling sharply.

The bartender, a heavily tatted man with piercing eyes, smirked. “Need something strong?”

“You have no idea,”

I muttered.

He nodded, already pouring Tequila on the rocks. And then, before I even picked up my glass, a deep, slow voice cut through the air behind me.

“Put it on my tab.”

I turned and there he was. The fine ass man from the beach. Up close, he was even more handsome, making my mouth instantly go dry. He was tatted the fuck up too. The waves in his hair were a tsunami and his dark eyes were intense. A diamond chain with a cross rested on his muscular chest and an expensive watch adorned his wrist. A perfectly cut jawline and his smirk was slow and confident. And the way he was looking at me? It sent a shiver down my spine.

I should have picked up my drink, ignored the fine ass older man in front of me, and spent the rest of the night sulking in my villa about how much I was failing at this retreat. But I didn’t. Instead, I turned in my seat, slowly facing him, one eyebrow raised.

“I can pay for my own drink, y’know.”

His lips curved at the edges, amusement flickering in his eyes. He wasn’t just attractive—he was commanding. The kind of man who took up space without trying, the kind who made you want to know what he was thinking even when he gave nothing away.

“I don’t doubt that, sweetheart,”

His voice was smooth, low, teasing. “But it’s already paid for. You can either argue about it or drink it.”

I huffed a quiet laugh, picking up the glass the bartender slid toward me for a sip. “You always this generous to strangers?”

“Only when I feel it’s necessary.”

He leaned back against the bar, casually rolling the sleeve of his crisp black button-down a little higher. Something about that movement, the slow, unhurried confidence of it, made heat prickle down my spine. “Lemme guess. You’re here for that entrepreneur retreat?”

The bartender placed a glass of something amber and strong in front of him without asking for his order, which told me he was a regular there. He lifted it slowly, studying me over the rim as he took a sip.

“Uh, yeah,”

I admitted. “I’m looking for an investor… or at least a lead. A meeting. Something. But instead, I spent two hours making small talk with people who had no interest in what I’m building.”

His gaze flickered with something unreadable. “And what is that, exactly?”

Taking another sip of my drink, I studied him for a moment, debating whether I should waste my pitch on a man who was probably just looking to charm me out of my dress for the night. But fuck it. I had nothing to lose. “Honey Luxe Beauty,”

I said. “Clean, luxury skincare. All plant-based, backed by science, and focused on melanated skin. No fillers, no toxins, just pure, results-driven formulas.”

He nodded slightly as if committing it to memory. “I respect it. What’s stopping you from advancing?”

I exhaled, swirling my drink. “Funding, obviously. I built this brand from the ground up, but I need serious capital to grow.”

His lips pressed together, and he took another sip, his sharp gaze assessing me. It wasn’t like the way the investors had looked at me tonight—like I was some charity case or an unproven risk. This man looked at me like he saw the ambition burning in my chest. Like he understood it.

“And what would you do,”

he mused, setting his glass down, “if you got the money?”

I leaned in slightly, mirroring him without meaning to. “Expand the product line. Increase production. Build out a team. Right now, it’s all on me—formulating, branding, marketing. It’s growing, but without big money, I’m stuck.”

He nodded once, slow, considering. And then, he asked the question that changed everything. “What if I gave you the money?”

I blinked. “What?”

His expression didn’t shift. “You need funding. I have money. I could write the check.”

My heart stalled, a dozen emotions slamming into me at once—shock, excitement, disbelief, suspicion. Because this wasn’t how things worked. I set my glass down, narrowing my eyes. “Just like that? No questions asked?”

“Oh, there are questions,”

he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “Along with terms and conditions.”

And just like that, the heat between us shifted. Something darker. Something… unspoken. I swallowed hard. “Terms?”

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the bar. “You want the funding? You spend the rest of the weekend with me. No distractions. No outside world. Just us.”

My breath caught. He wasn’t talking about business meetings. He was talking about me and him. Physically. Sexually. Every possible way. I stared at him, heat pooling between my thighs, but my brain was racing. Because he was fucking insane. I mean, yes, it was the easiest way to get what I wanted but damn.

“That’s not exactly a traditional investment agreement,”

I said carefully, taking another sip of my drink.

He smirked, slow and knowing. “No, it’s not.”

I exhaled, gripping the edge of the bar, my mind spinning. “You don’t even know me,”

I pointed out.

“Not yet,”

he said, his eyes gliding over me in a way that made my pulse skyrocket. “But by the end of the weekend, I will.”

I swallowed hard, narrowing my eyes. I could say no. I should say no. But I was drowning in debt from spending so much of my full-time paycheck as a receptionist, my business was on the verge of either thriving or dying, and this man—whoever he was—had the kind of wealth that could change my entire future. All I had to do was surrender to him.

Oh, hell no. Bitch, walk away, I told myself. Instead, I took a slow, deep breath and whispered, “What happens after the weekend?”

His gaze darkened, his smirk sharpening. “After the weekend, we go back to our lives.”

A pause. Then, in a voice that was dangerously smooth, he added, “But for the next couple of days… you’ll be mine.”

Silence stretched between us, thick with something I couldn’t name. My heart was thumping in my chest, my drink forgotten, my pulse thrumming at the base of my throat. His offer sat between us like a loaded gun. No strings. A deal. A business transaction wrapped in something crazy, something seductive, something that made my mind race with possibilities I had no business considering.

He was offering me a world I’d never stepped into before. And if I said yes, I had no doubt he would take me under in every possible way. I forced myself to meet his gaze, steady, even though my breath was uneven. “And what if I don’t accept?”

He shrugged. “Then you finish your drink and go back to pitching to investors who don’t give a fuck about your business.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. Damn. He wasn’t even trying to sell it to me. He didn’t need to. He knew what he was offering was temptation wrapped in a blank check.

“I don’t even know your name.”

He smirked at me before licking his full lips. “Legend Waters and yours?”

I watched as his gaze flickered over my lips before meeting my eyes again. “Honey Lake.”

Nodding, he carefully and effortlessly reached into his pocket, pulled out a black business card, and set it on the bar in front of me. His fingernail were clean as hell and his fingers, tattooed and precise, tapped it once as if sealing something invisible between us. “No pressure,”

he said smoothly. “But if you decide to accept…”

His dark eyes flickered with something dangerous, something possessive. “…be at my place by midnight.”

I swallowed. This shit was like a damn fairy tale with a much dirtier ending. “And if I do?”

I asked quietly, not even sure why I was pushing this, why I wasn’t already running in the opposite direction.

“Then once you step through my door, there’s no turning back.”

The weight of his words settled deep in my stomach, curling into something hot, something restless. I glanced down at the card, my fingers hovering over it. When I looked back up, he was already standing, smooth and unhurried as he finished his drink. Then, before I could even process it, he turned and walked away.

I sat there, my breath shaky, my mind a mess, staring at the card in front of me.

Legend.

No last name.

No company name.

Just a name and address.

I exhaled, slow and measured, and picked up my glass, swirling the last inch of Tequila. The ice had melted, watering it down, but I still took the final sip, letting the burn slide down my throat as I tried to get my racing thoughts under control.

This was fucking crazy. No, beyond crazy. This was some movie or urban fiction type of shit. I should have been offended. Outraged. Instead, I was sitting here, still thinking about it. I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head at myself before finally sliding the damn card into my clutch, snapping it shut with more force than necessary.

I wasn’t making any reckless decisions. Not yet. Instead, I was going to do what I came here to do—network my ass off, sell my brand, and land a damn investor the normal way. Maybe that would be enough to stop my pulse from pounding the way it did when I thought about what midnight could look like.