Chapter 18 Harper
“Mr. Langley, we’ve begun our final descent into Lynden Pindling International Airport in Nassau, Bahamas. Local time is…”
The pilot’s voice filters through the cabin of Julian’s private 757 that’s bigger than any commercial plane I’ve ever been aboard. He keeps speaking, but I don’t catch the rest of it because I’m too busy staring out the window.
I never knew flying could be this luxurious as I take in the incredible interior of the plane, my fingers brushing over the soft leather armrest. The cabin around me is quiet—no rattling or turbulence, just a smooth glide through the sky.
I glance around, taking it in for what has to be the hundredth time since we boarded. The handcrafted finishes and ornate details. I didn’t know people actually lived like this or that travel could be this remarkable.
A few hours ago, somewhere over the open water of the Atlantic Ocean, one of the attendants had set a plate in front of me of the most delicious chocolates, milk and dark, and fresh fruit, including strawberries.
It all tasted even better than it looked. And I hate—just a little—that I like it so much since I don’t want to be the kind of person who gets swept up in… this. The luxury. This way of life where everything appears before you even think to need it.
I turn my gaze toward the window.
The ocean stretches out below us now, that incredible shade of crystal-clear blue that doesn’t even look real, like someone turned the saturation up too high. Pockets of lighter turquoise break through where the water shallows, sandbars barely visible beneath the surface. It’s stunning.
I exhale slowly, pressing my forehead lightly against the glass for a second.
“Pretty nice, huh?” Julian’s voice drifts over.
I glance at him. “More than ‘pretty nice.’”
The corner of his mouth lifts.
I turn back toward the window. “I mean… yeah. This is… insane.”
“In a good way, I hope.”
“Yes,” I say with a smile. “Very much in a good way.”
The plane dips lower, the island coming into sharper focus. I spot clusters of buildings, winding roads, stretches of beach that look untouched.
And minutes later, after the smoothest landing in aviation history, we’ve touched down in paradise.
The door opens, and the first thing that hits me is the air. It wraps around me the second I step out onto the tarmac, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of salt and sweetness, like flowers in full bloom. After New York in December, it’s like stepping into another world. I’m so thankful for that.
I close my eyes for half a second, breathing it in.
“Welcome to the Bahamas,” Julian murmurs beside me.
We descend the short set of stairs, the sun sitting low in the sky, casting everything in a golden, late-afternoon glow that makes the island look like it’s been dipped in light.
It’s tranquil, serene in a way I’ve never experienced. I didn’t realize how loud New York always is until now.
By the time we reach the last step, there’s already a car waiting. A sleek black SUV, polished to perfection, with a driver standing beside it in a fresh white uniform, posture straight, expression professional but not stiff. The door is open before we reach it.
“Mr. Langley,” he greets, his voice smooth.
Julian nods. “Good to see you again, Timothy.”
“Welcome back, sir.”
Then his gaze homes in on me, polite, acknowledging. “Miss.”
I offer a small smile, still slightly disoriented by how seamless this all is.
Our bags are handled before I can think about them, loaded into the back of the SUV, and then I’m being ushered toward the car like this is normal. I guess it is for Julian.
I slide into the back seat, the leather warm from the sun, and Julian follows a second later, settling beside me.
The door shuts with a soft, solid thud.
And then we’re moving. Palm trees line the road, swaying gently in the breeze, their leaves catching the light in flashes of green and gold. The sky stretches endlessly above us, wide and open. I wonder if this is what heaven is like.
I lean slightly toward the window, watching everything pass by.
Colorful houses. Small roadside stands. People walking at an unhurried pace, like time moves differently here. Slower. With no frantic, crazed energy.
“Do you come here often?” I ask, glancing at Julian.
“Not as often as I should,” he admits. “But enough.”
I nod, turning back to the view.
“I can see why you’d want to,” I say quietly. “I mean, I get why you want to come when you’re able, though I know you have so much on your plate that it’s probably hard to find the time.”
The road curves, opening to a stretch of coastline, and I lose my breath.
The water is right there. It looks straight out of a postcard, the kind of image you assume is edited until you see it with your own eyes and realize—it isn’t. It’s real!
“That’s… wow,” I whisper.
Julian smiles and takes my hand in his. It looks like he wants to speak, but he doesn’t, instead watching me take it in. That gesture is even more significant.
A few more turns, a longer stretch along the coast, and then the car slows.
Gates appear ahead—tall, towering even. They open automatically.
“I hope the house is in okay shape,” he says.
We pull through, the drive curving gently until the “house” comes into view. I’ve seen houses. This isn’t one. This is a massive villa.
It’s expansive and overwhelming in scale, built to blend into the landscape rather than dominate it. Soft stones with wide terraces that spill out toward the ocean like the place was designed to lead your eyes straight to the horizon.
I don’t move when the car stops. I sit there, taking it in, my mind struggling to catch up to what I’m seeing.
The driver opens the door.
The breeze hits me again.
The sound of the ocean drifts in, rhythmic and calming, like it’s been waiting for me.
And as I stand there, looking out at this beauty that is so far removed from the life I know, one thought settles quietly in the back of my mind—
There’s no going back to before this.
Julian’s seaside villa really is spectacular, a place I only thought existed on screensavers from the early 2000s. And yet, here it is. And here I am. I’d pinch myself but I’m running on such a high, I don’t know that I have the coordination to.
I step farther onto the property. It’s huge, but not in a cold, echoing way.
“Okay,” I murmur under my breath, turning slowly in a half circle as I take it all in. “This is… unreal.”
Julian watches me, hands tucked casually into his pockets, that faint, knowing smile playing at his mouth like he’s seen this exact reaction before.
“Too much?” he asks.
I glance at him, then back out toward the view, where the horizon stretches endlessly. “No,” I say honestly. “Just… more than I expected, though I guess I didn’t really know what to expect.”
My eyes drift outward again, pulled toward the centerpiece of it all: the pool.
It’s enormous, a saltwater infinity edge that seems to spill straight into the ocean beyond, the surface catching the bright sunlight in soft, shimmering ripples. Off to one side, a sunken Jacuzzi steams lightly, the water bubbling like it’s been waiting all day to be used.
And just beyond that—
“Is that a sauna?” I ask.
Julian follows my gaze. “It is.”
And next to it, set into the high-end stone like what one would find at a premium spa, is a cold plunge pool, the water still and light blue.
I let out a quiet laugh. “Sauna and cold plunge?”
“I’m all about wellness,” he says simply.
“Right,” I reply, shaking my head, amused.
But it’s not even the pool or the spa setup that holds me.
It’s what’s past it: the beach. The sand is impossibly white, soft, even from this distance. And the water—wow—the water is crystal clear, that same surreal blue I saw from the plane, shifting in color as the light hits it.
“You can walk straight out there? I mean, onto the beach?” I ask, glancing back at Julian.
“Anytime you want,” he says.
I exhale slowly, pulling myself back from the edge of that thought before it gets too far ahead of me.
“Come on,” he says, already turning toward the house. “I’ll show you inside.”
No surprise, the interior is just as stunning, if not more so. The floors are cool beneath my feet, expensive stone that contrasts with the warmth of the air, and there’s a faint sound of the ocean, waves crashing gently, a constant, calming backdrop.
He leads me through this incredible home. Finally, he stops near a wide hallway that branches off toward what I assume are the bedrooms.
“You can freshen up here,” he says, gesturing to a door off to the side.
I open the door to what turns out to be more of a spa than a bathroom.
There’s a soaking tub set beneath a window that looks out toward the Atlantic Ocean, a glass shower big enough to get lost in, double vanities, limestone and marble everywhere, and mirrors that reflect everything back in soft, golden tones.
“Take your time,” he says. “And—” His gaze flicks over me “Wear something water appropriate.”
I blink. “Water appropriate?”
He shrugs. “We may get a little wet. It’s the Bahamas, Harper. It would be a shame not to enjoy it.”
I smile.
“I’ll see you soon,” he says.
And then he’s gone, leaving me alone in this spacious area. I look at the massive mirror in front of me. I stand there, staring at my reflection.
At the girl who grew up on the Lower East Side, who counts grocery bills and stretches paychecks and worries about everything—
Now standing in a place like this.
“Water appropriate,” I murmur to myself. This is definitely going to be interesting.
I change into a bikini, then put on a cover-up so I’m not revealing too much.
“Ready?” he asks as he knocks at the door a few minutes after leaving me.
I open it. “I think so.”
“Good,” he says, turning slightly. “Come on.”
I fall into step beside him, the beautifully manicured grass a bright green that looks like a highlighter. We move past the pool, past the edge of the property where the path dips slightly toward the water.
And there, sitting just beyond the private stretch of beach, gently rocking against the dock, is a boat… Well, it’s more than that. It’s a yacht or at least what I imagine a yacht is.
We walk out along the dock, the water lapping softly below us. Up close, it’s even more impressive—multiple levels, shaded seating, a sleek interior visible through the tinted glass.
And then I see the name, painted in elegant script along the back.
KYLIE.
I slow, my gaze catching on it for a second too long.
It’s soft. Feminine. Because suddenly, the thought presses in, uninvited and impossible to ignore. I’m probably not the first girl he’s brought here.
Julian Langley—this man who has it all—doesn’t exist in a vacuum. He’s lived and loved, I’m sure. And he must’ve brought people to places like this long before I ever showed up.
I’ve dated enough to understand how that works. Not a lot—and never anything serious—but enough false starts to recognize the pattern. Guys who liked me until life got complicated.
“You okay?” Julian asks, his voice closer now.
I glance up at him quickly, offering a small smile. “Yeah. It’s just… a lot to take in.”
That part isn’t a lie. He studies me for a second, like he might push.
“I used to come here more,” he says casually. “Different company, different timing.”
“With dates?” I ask before I can stop myself, immediately wishing I hadn’t.
There’s a pause—not awkward, but unease creeps into me.
“Sometimes,” he says. “Not really many who mattered. But yes, I’ve had visitors… guests here.”
He glances out toward the water, then back to me. “I was… selective,” he adds, like he’s clarifying without fully opening the door. “Not just anyone.”
I can’t help that I’m slightly disappointed that I’m not the first woman he’s brought here, but I tell myself that’s ridiculous.
His mouth curves slightly. “How about you?”
“Nope, no guests to my Bahamian retreat,” I say with a smile.
“Ha-ha. You know what I mean. Do you date a lot?”
I hesitate, then shrug lightly, keeping it honest. “No one worth naming a boat after.”
He doesn’t smile at my teasing, nor does he reveal who the mysterious Kylie is. “Come on,” he says, gesturing toward the yacht. “Let me show you.”
I follow him because whatever questions are sitting beneath the surface, whatever curiosity is tugging at me… for now, I let it stay there, not fully explored.
But it remains, floating and only partly visible, just like the yacht in front of us.