4. Gideon
GIDEON
Azure Cay looks like the kind of place built to make people stupid. The sun is merciless this time of day—white-hot over the water, bouncing off the marina so hard it hurts to look at directly. No clouds yet. Just heat, glare, and the illusion that nothing on this island could possibly go wrong.
Turquoise water. White sand. Staff carrying champagne before noon while my executives act like this retreat is a paid vacation instead of a corporate acquisition worth billions.
The second we step off the yacht, everyone starts loosening ties and grinning.
I start working.
“Briefing room in forty minutes,” I say, already walking. “If anyone’s late, they can catch the next boat back to Miami.”
A few nervous laughs follow me. Nobody mistakes the threat for a joke.
Cassie does.
I hear her before I see her.
That laugh hits me square in the chest, warm and bright, and I glance toward the marina despite myself. She’s standing beside Elias Ward, curls moving in the ocean breeze while he leans against the dock railing like he belongs in some damn resort advertisement.
Elias says something that makes her grin wider.
My brows furrow, instantly.
“Dangerous look, Carrington,” Nolan mutters beside me.
I ignore him.
Cassie finally notices me watching. Her smile falters slightly before she straightens. Professional. Composed. Still beautiful enough to make my concentration fracture.
Hell.
The welcome briefing becomes unbearable after that.
Investors rave about the island while Elias keeps directing comments toward Cassie. Every time she laughs quietly beside him, something ugly twists beneath my ribs.
By dinner, executives start drinking too much.
“To Gideon finally relaxing,” someone jokes.
The table laughs.
I sip my whiskey without reacting because across the room Cassie is thanking a nervous resort server after I corrected him too sharply earlier.
Too sharply.
“Maybe terrorizing staff isn’t necessary on a tropical island,” Cassie says later, catching me alone outside the dining hall.
I stare down at her. “You followed me out here to criticize management style?”
“I followed you out here because the poor guy looked ready to throw himself into the ocean.”
“Fear keeps people efficient.”
“No,” she shoots back softly. “Fear keeps people scared of you.”
The words land harder than they should.
“You’re the only person in this company who speaks to me like this.”
Cassie crosses her arms. “Maybe because everyone else is intimidated by you.”
“And you aren’t?”
Her hazel eyes lock onto mine. “I think you use intimidation as a shield because trusting people terrifies you.”
The silence between us turns razor sharp.
I leave before I say something reckless.
But long after midnight, lying awake in my villa, I still hear her voice in my head.
Dinner stretches across the resort terrace beneath hanging lanterns and slow steel-drum music, but I barely register any of it.
Investors keep talking. Executives keep laughing too loudly. Waves crash somewhere beyond the cliffs while waiters move between tables carrying champagne and expensive seafood.
None of it holds my attention.
Cassie does.
She sits three tables away wearing a pale blue sundress that should honestly be illegal. The thin straps leave her shoulders bare, gold jewelry glinting against warm brown skin every time she turns her head beneath the lights.
And Elias fucking Ward keeps making her laugh.
“You look miserable, Carrington.”
I drag my eyes away from Cassie long enough to glare at Dean Holloway from acquisitions.
Dean smirks into his whiskey. “Relax. The island hasn’t exploded yet.”
A few executives chuckle.
“Maybe our fearless CEO finally discovered what vacation means,” another adds.
Vacation.
I built this company while sleeping four hours a night for nearly a decade. There is no such thing as vacation.
“There’s still time for me to fire all of you,” I say flatly.
The table goes quiet instantly.
Cassie looks over at me from across the terrace. Even from here, I catch the tiny shake of her head like she’s silently scolding me.
Christ.
A nervous young waiter approaches my table carrying another bottle of wine. His hands tremble badly enough that I notice before the bottle even tilts.
Red wine splashes across the white tablecloth beside Nolan.
The waiter freezes.
“Oh my God, sir, I’m so sorry?—”
“Then stop apologizing and pay attention to what you’re doing,” I cut in coldly.
The poor bastard looks about nineteen.
His face drains of color while nearby executives stare down at their plates, pretending not to listen.
Cassie’s expression hardens immediately.
Wonderful.
Ten minutes later, I leave the table before I say something else unpleasant and step into the open-air hallway beside the terrace. Warm ocean wind hits my face, carrying salt and music from the beach below.
I hear heels clicking behind me.
“Tell me you’re not hiding from your own dinner.”
I turn slowly.
Cassie stops in front of me, arms crossed tight beneath her chest. Up close, she smells like jasmine and expensive sunscreen, and it does dangerous things to my concentration.
“I’m not hiding.”
“You made that waiter look like he was about to throw up.”
“He was incompetent.”
“He was nervous.”
“There’s a difference?”
Her eyes flash. “God, you can be unbelievable.”
I lean against the stone wall. “You followed me out here to lecture me?”
“Yes.” She steps closer without hesitation. “Somebody should.”
A laugh almost escapes me at that. Almost.
Most people avoid eye contact when I’m irritated. Board members twice her age stumble over their words in meetings.
Cassie just gets mad.
“You enjoy arguing with me,” I murmur.
“No. I enjoy reminding you that you’re human.”
The words slice deeper than they have any right to.
For a second, we both stay silent. Music drifts faintly from the terrace behind us while the wind lifts loose curls around her face.
She’s beautiful when she’s angry.
That realization lands low in my chest like a warning.
“You know,” she says quieter now, “people would probably respect you even without the intimidation act.”
“Act?”
“Yes, act.” She gestures toward me. “The death stare. The terrifying billionaire routine. It’s exhausting.”
I bark out a short laugh despite myself.
Cassie blinks. “Wait. Was that an actual laugh?”
“Don’t sound so shocked.”
“Oh, I’m shocked.” Her mouth curves slightly. “I honestly thought smiling physically pained you.”
God help me, I almost smile again.
Then Elias appears at the terrace entrance behind her.
“There you are,” he says easily to Cassie. “We’re taking a group down to the marina bar.”
My mood darkens instantly.
Cassie glances back at him. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Elias looks between us once, clearly sensing tension. Smart man.
“Try not to scare the staff anymore, Carrington,” he says jokingly before walking off.
I wait until he disappears before speaking.
“You like him.”
Cassie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Excuse me?”
“You’re laughing with him a lot.”
“And you’re monitoring how often I laugh now?”
I step toward her before I even realize what I’m doing. “You didn’t answer the question.”
Her breath catches slightly.
Too close.
Way too fucking close.
The hallway suddenly feels smaller, hotter. My attention drops briefly to her mouth before I drag it away again.
Cassie notices.
Of course she notices.
“You know what I think?” she says softly.
“What?”
“I think you try to scare people off because trusting people terrifies you.”
Every muscle in my body locks.
She sees too much.
Always too much.
I don’t look away a while stepping back.
“Go enjoy the marina bar, Cassie.”
Her expression shifts slightly, like she regrets pushing too far.
“Gideon—”
“Goodnight.”
Then I carry myself out before I do something reckless like touch her.
“I think you hide behind intimidation because you don’t trust people.”
The words follow me long after I leave her standing in that hallway.
I walk through Azure Cay with my jaw clenched so tightly it aches. Staff members scatter the second they see me coming, probably because I look one inconvenience away from homicide.
Good.
The ocean crashes violently against the cliffs below the resort while music from the marina drifts through the humid night air. Somewhere behind me, executives are still drinking and pretending this retreat is a vacation instead of a billion-dollar acquisition balancing on a knife’s edge.
I should be reviewing contracts.
Instead, all I hear is Cassie’s voice.
You don’t trust people.
I shove open the doors to my villa harder than necessary and loosen my tie with sharp, irritated movements. The room is massive. Modern. Immaculate.
Empty.
Always fucking empty.
I pour whiskey into a glass and drink it neat, staring out at the dark water beyond the balcony.
She thinks she understands me.
That should irritate me more than it does.
Most people see exactly what I allow them to see. Cold. Controlled. Ruthless. It keeps the company stable. Keeps weak executives nervous enough to stay useful.
Keeps betrayal predictable.
Cassie peruses me as though she’s trying to peel the walls off with her bare hands.
And the worst part?
She’s not entirely wrong.
I think about the way she stood there tonight in that blue dress, completely unafraid to challenge me while everyone else at this company practically flinches when I enter a room.
“Fear keeps people scared of you.”
Christ.
I scrub some fingers on my face and sink onto the couch, but resting is impossible. Whenever my eyelids fall shut, I see her looking up at me in that hallway.
Defiant.
Frustrated.
Too damn observant.
Then my mind betrays me completely and replays the moment I stepped closer to her.
The hitch in her breathing.
The way her lips parted slightly.
The heat between us turning thick enough to choke on.
I stand immediately, pacing the villa like a man losing his mind.
This is exactly why distance matters.
Cassie is dangerous to me in ways no board member or investor has ever been. She makes me distracted. Reckless. A version of myself I barely recognize.
And somehow, despite walking away furious, I already know tomorrow won’t be any better.
Because the second I see her again, I’m going to want her attention all over again.