Chapter 16 Amara
Amara
Iwake up in Corin’s bed for the third morning in a row, and honestly? It still feels a bit too good to be true, like I’m committing some sort of fraud.
The morning light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his private villa, casting everything in golden shades.
Corin is already gone, his side of the bed still faintly warm. I can hear the distant rumble of his voice somewhere in the villa, probably on a call with Manhattan.
I stretch, and immediately wince.
My butt is still tender from two nights ago.
Not painfully so, but tender enough that I’m acutely aware of every surface I sit on.
Corin rubbed some fancy healing lotion on it that first night, because of course a billionaire has specialty post-spanking skincare products.
Or maybe he just has good skincare products in general and I’m projecting.
Either way, my ass has been moisturized by a man worth nine figures.
Wonder if I can put that on my LinkedIn?
I roll out of bed and pad to the bathroom mirror. The hickeys from our latest night are still visible on my neck, a constellation of purple and red joining those from the previous nights. I’ve been covering them with makeup, but in this humidity, I have to reapply constantly.
Worth it, though.
I shower, dress in my most linen trousers and a tank top, apply a quick brushing of makeup to hide most of the evidence, and then head downstairs.
Corin is on the terrace with his laptop, his phone pressed to his ear. He’s wearing a washed navy linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
Mmm those forearms never get old.
He catches my eye through the glass and warmth flickers across his face, along with a smile that feels private, just for me.
I wave awkwardly and make a beeline for the kitchen.
Ysela has left fresh coffee and pastries on the counter. She’s a saint. I pour myself a cup, black, no sugar, and take a moment to appreciate the sheer ridiculousness of my current situation.
Two months ago I was a workaholic corporate litigator whose idea of self-care was occasionally ordering salad with her delivery food.
Now I’m playing house with my ex-boyfriend in a Caribbean villa while helping him run a community legal clinic and also having the best sex of my entire life.
Your Honor, the defense would like to submit that the witness has lost her entire mind.
Corin finishes his call and joins me in the kitchen, his hand finding the small of my back like it belongs there.
Which it does.
“Morning,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple.
“Morning yourself.” I take a sip of coffee to hide the fact I’m blushing. Twenty-eight years old and I still blush like a teenager around this man. Pathetic. “Everything okay in Manhattan?”
His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “Mostly. Noemi, my chief of staff, flagged something. We have a visitor arriving on the island today.”
“A visitor?” I ask casually.
He nods slowly, holding my eyes. “Xavier Laurent.”
I freeze.
Xavier Laurent. The former board member who buried Corin’s objections five years ago.
The one who silenced his dissent and let my mentor’s career burn to protect the firm’s optics.
And the corrupt piece of garbage who’s lately been planting forged documents to frame Corin for misconduct he didn’t commit.
“He’s coming here?” I can’t hide the disbelief in the voice. “To Eleuthera of all places?”
“Under the guise of a ‘conciliatory investor’ looking to support local development.” Corin’s expression is carefully neutral, but I can see the tension in the line of his shoulders. “Marisol already invited him to a community forum this afternoon. She didn’t know.”
“Of course she didn’t.” I set down my coffee cup harder than necessary. “And how long have you known?”
“Twenty-four hours,” he admits quietly.
Twenty-four hours. Corin has been sitting on this information a whole day.
I fold my arms over my chest. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“I didn’t want to worry you until we had confirmation.” He sounds sincere, but...
“Corin.” I turn to face him fully. “We talked about this. The whole ‘protecting me’ thing? That’s not how this works.”
He has the decency to look chastened. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Old habits.”
I want to stay mad, but he’s already admitting fault, and those dark eyes are looking so vulnerable that I can’t help but back down.
Objection: witness is being unfairly attractive during an argument.
“Fine,” I sigh. “So what’s his play? Why come here in person?”
“Intimidation, probably. Reconnaissance. He wants to see what we’re building and figure out how to destroy it.”
“Charming.”
“Xavier’s many things. Charming is unfortunately one of them.” Corin runs a hand through his hair, leaving it slightly disheveled.
I finish my coffee and rinse the cup in the sink, buying myself a moment to think.
Time to put on your litigator hat. You’ve deposed hostile witnesses before. You’ve cross-examined corporate executives who thought they could charm their way out of accountability. Xavier Laurent is just another rich guy who thinks he’s smarter than everyone else.
“You told me he wants control of the foundation,” I begin.
“That he wants to position himself as the ‘ethical alternative’ to your leadership so the board will force you out and install him as chair. He’s already planted forged documents to make it look like you profited from past fraud.
Now he’s here to cause more mischief.” I tap my lips.
“Okay then. Here’s the plan. We attend the forum this afternoon, we play nice, we stay on our best behavior and don’t give him anything to work with.
Meanwhile, we keep building the case against him, and when we’re ready, we show the board. ”
Corin’s expression softens. “You don’t have to come to the forum. You could stay here, let me handle it.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “You’re protecting me again.”
He sighs. “I suppose I am.”
“And you think I’ll miss the chance to watch you pretend to be polite to a man you want to strangle? Absolutely not.” I flash him a grin. “Besides, someone has to stop you from doing something stupid like punching him in the face in front of everyone.”
He shakes his head. “I would never.”
I raise my chin defiantly. “You absolutely would.”
He doesn’t deny it.
The community forum is held in the same hall where we’ve given clinic presentations. The room is packed with locals, community leaders, and a handful of foundation staff. I spot Marisol near the front, clipboard in hand, looking harried but determined.
And there, in the center of the crowd like a shark in a koi pond, is Xavier Laurent.
He’s shorter than I expected. Maybe five-ten, with silver-streaked hair and the kind of expensive suit that screams “I have money but no taste!” His smile is polished, his handshake firm as he works the room.
If opposing counsel were a person...
I feel Corin tense beside me. His hand finds my elbow, a brief touch that grounds me.
“Remember,” he murmurs. “He wants a reaction.”
I smile bravely. “Then he’s going to be disappointed.”
Xavier takes the podium for his speech, and I have to admit, the man is good.
He talks about “sustainable partnerships” and “transparency in philanthropy.” He praises the clinic’s work, acknowledges the islanders’ concerns about outside development, and positions himself as a humble ally just looking to help.
It’s complete bullshit, of course. Every word is calculated, every gesture rehearsed. But the locals don’t know that. They just see a well-dressed investor promising resources and support.
The prosecution notes that the defendant is an excellent liar.
After the speech, Xavier makes his way through the crowd, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries and handing out his business card.
Finally he reaches Corin and I.
“Corin.” Xavier extends a hand, his plastered-on smile never wavering. “Good to see the foundation’s making progress here. I’m sure the board will be pleased.”
The board that you got kicked off, I want to chime in, but I hold back.
Corin takes the handshake, his expression completely unreadable. “Xavier. Nice to see you in the Bahamas.”
“I heard great things about the pilot program you started here. Wanted to see it for myself.” Xavier’s eyes slide to me, and I feel my skin crawl. “And you must be the legal consultant. I’ve heard good things about your land-lease workshops.”
His oily tone just makes me want to shower.
I keep my face neutral. “We aim to protect the community. Unlike some other... parties.”
He flashes that slimy smile. “Of course.” He pulls a business card from his jacket pocket and hands it to me. “If you ever need resources beyond what the foundation provides, feel free to reach out.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, which is lawyer-speak for “over my dead body.”
Xavier holds my gaze for a beat too long, then turns back to Corin. “We should catch up properly. Dinner, perhaps? I’m staying at The Cove through the weekend.”
“I’ll check my calendar,” Corin replies, which is CEO-speak for the exact same thing.
Xavier nods, apparently satisfied, and moves on to the next cluster of community members.
The second he’s out of earshot, I exhale. “I need a drink.”
“That makes two of us,” he agrees.
We slip out of the forum as soon as we can without being conspicuous. Keon is waiting with the SUV, and Thorne materializes from somewhere near the building’s side exit like a particularly well-dressed shadow.
I slide into the back seat, momentarily grateful I returned my rental car two days ago.
At the time, it felt like a small surrender.
Admitting I wasn’t going anywhere, that I was actually staying at Corin’s private villa instead of my own at the resort.
Now? Now it just means I don’t have to follow behind in my budget sedan while Corin rides in air-conditioned luxury.