The private plane touched down on the tiny airstrip just after noon, the turquoise ocean sparkling endlessly below them as they descended. Stiles pressed her face to the window the entire flight, eyes wide with childlike wonder, squealing every time she spotted another shade of blue in the water. Derek watched her more than the view, his chest tight with something deeper than lust—pure happiness at seeing her so radiant.

A Jeep waited to whisk them the short distance to the villa. When they arrived, Stiles gasped audibly. The place was perfection: a modern, open-air masterpiece of glass and teak perched on a pristine white-sand cove. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed panoramic views of the endless sea, palm trees swaying gently in the warm breeze. No staff, no neighbors—just them and the island.