31. Chapter Thirty One
Chapter Thirty One
Cole
The sky deepens into a rich indigo as the sun dips below the horizon, and reflects onto the sea.
The salty breeze carries the distant crash of waves against the shore, mingling with the warm scent of grilled seafood and citrus lingering in the air.
The villa’s deck, with its lantern-lit ambiance and uninterrupted view of the endless water, is nothing short of breathtaking.
Dinner is already set when we step outside—pristine white linens, polished silverware, and a spread of fresh, island-caught delicacies: grilled lobster, seared tuna, garlic butter shrimp, and a variety of vibrant tropical fruits and salads. The kind of meal most people would pay a fortune for at a five-star resort, and here, it’s just another night in paradise.
Robbie is already seated, his small fingers eagerly reaching for a slice of grilled pineapple as he chatters animatedly about his “treasure hunt” on the beach earlier. I take my seat across from him, prepared to half-listen while eating, but my focus shifts entirely the moment Annie steps onto the deck .
She moves with effortless grace, like she belongs here—like the island has already claimed her as its own.
The warm light of the lanterns catches in the soft waves of her hair, which has lightened slightly after just a day in the sun. Her skin already holds the faintest hint of a golden glow, and then there’s the dress.
It’s a shade somewhere between coral and deep rose, the kind of color that would stand out on anyone else but seems like it was made just for her. The fabric flows over her body like water, cinching at the waist, the neckline dipping just enough to reveal a teasing hint of collarbone and the top of her cleavage. Thin straps rest against sun-kissed shoulders, and for a second, I wonder—did she make this one too?
I clench my jaw, dragging my eyes back to my plate. This trip is going to be dangerous for me.
She pulls out her chair and settles in, reaching for her glass—water, I note.
“No wine?” I ask, raising a brow. “Or fruity drinks with umbrellas?”
She glances up, offering a small smile. “I figured I should probably stick to water or ginger ale until my stomach settles completely.”
I study her for a moment, remembering the way she’d bolted for the plane’s bathroom as soon as the seatbelt light turned off. She’d looked better after landing, but still, she’s never mentioned whether flying had always made her sick or if it was just a one-time thing .
“Are you still feeling sick?” I ask, lowering my voice slightly.
“Not really,” she admits, swirling the ice in her glass. “I just don’t want to risk it.”
Conversation flows easily from there, mostly led by Robbie, who is still riding the high of being in a completely new place.
He goes on about the shells he found, the tiny fish he saw darting through the shallows, and how tomorrow he’s going to build “the biggest sandcastle ever.”
Annie listens intently, nodding along, asking questions, encouraging him. And I find myself watching her more than I should.
She’s good with him. Better than I ever expected.
It shouldn’t surprise me at this point, but it does.
Maybe because, for the longest time, I never thought anyone could step into Robin’s shoes—not as Robbie’s mother, but as someone he’d trust.
He’s always been so reserved, so hesitant around new people. And yet, with Annie, it’s different. It has been since the moment they met, even if I wasn’t around to see it.
The thought lingers as dinner winds down. Robbie, full and tired, leans heavily against Annie’s arm, his eyelids drooping.
She smiles down at him, smoothing his curls back. “Looks like someone’s ready for bed.”
Robbie mumbles something incoherent, barely clinging to consciousness. I push back my chair and stand, moving around the table to scoop him up before he can protest. He doesn’t. He just curls into me, one small hand gripping the front of my shirt.
“I’ll take him up,” I say quietly.
Annie stands as well, her dress shifting fluidly with the motion. “I’ll come too.”
We walk through the terrace doors into the villa, the warm night air following us inside. The halls are quiet, the only sound the faint crash of waves outside and the soft hum of the ceiling fans.
Robbie stirs slightly in my arms as we reach his room, his brows furrowing. “Rexy,” he murmurs sleepily.
“I’ve got him, bud,” Annie says, grabbing the stuffed dinosaur from his bed before turning back to us.
I lower Robbie onto the mattress, his small body instantly sinking into the plush bedding. Annie kneels beside him, tucking the blanket around him and placing Rexy into his waiting arms.
His lashes flutter, and for a moment, it looks like he’s going to stay awake. Then his grip on the stuffed toy slackens, and just like that, he’s out.
Annie smiles softly, watching him for a moment before whispering, “Goodnight, buddy. ”
I step forward, pressing a brief kiss to Robbie’s forehead. “Goodnight, kid.”
We stand there for a beat, just watching him sleep. The room is dim, the glow from the hallway casting soft shadows across his peaceful face.
Then Annie looks up at me, her blue eyes catching the faint light. There’s something unreadable in her expression.
I hold her gaze for a moment before nodding toward the door. “Come on.”
She follows me out into the hall, and I close the door behind us. The villa is quiet, the distant sound of the ocean filtering in through the open windows. She turns to me, as if about to say something, but whatever it is never leaves her lips.
Instead, I reach out, cupping her jaw, and press my lips to hers.
It’s not rushed, not heated like all the other times. Just a simple, deliberate kiss.
When I pull back, her eyes are wide, her lips still parted slightly.
“You look beautiful,” I murmur.
Her breath catches.
“Let’s take a walk on the beach.” I run my fingers down her throat and feel her swallow nervously .
She stares at me, wide-eyed, her lips still parted from the kiss. I can feel the rapid beat of her pulse beneath my fingertips as I trail my hand down the soft column of her throat.
She swallows hard. “A walk?”
I nod, my fingers lingering for just a second longer before I step back, giving her space. “Yeah. Unless you’re too tired.”
She hesitates, her gaze searching mine, but then she shakes her head. “No, I—yeah. Okay.”
I let a small smile tug at my lips before I turn and lead the way toward the terrace doors.
The villa is silent as we move through it, our footsteps soft against the polished floors.
The lanterns outside still glow warmly, casting flickering light across the deck, but I don’t stop there. Instead, I step onto the stone pathway leading down to the beach, the sound of the ocean growing louder with each step.
Annie follows without a word, her dress swaying gently in the warm breeze.
The moment my bare feet touch the sand, I feel the tension from the day begin to loosen. The air is thick with salt and humidity, the waves rolling in a steady rhythm as they kiss the shore.
I glance back at Annie. She hesitates at the edge of the path before slipping off her sandals and stepping onto the cool sand. She exhales softly, tilting her head back, eyes closing for just a moment.
When she looks at me again, there’s something softer in her gaze. “It’s beautiful.”
“It is,” I agree, though I’m not sure if I mean the beach or her.
She doesn’t say anything, just falls into step beside me as we start walking along the shore. The sand is firm beneath our feet, still warm from the heat of the day.
For a while, we just walk in silence, listening to the waves, the occasional distant chirp of some nocturnal creature hidden in the trees lining the beach.
It isn't until we're a bit away from the villa that I finally break the quiet.
"So, this dress," I say, glancing at her. "Did you make this one too?"
Annie nods, her eyes never leaving the endless expanse of dark water before us.
"I figured." I watch her carefully, trying to read her expression. "You're really talented, you know."
She exhales softly, a self-deprecating smile pulling at her lips. "Not enough for it to pay the bills."
"I wouldn't say that." I hesitate, unsure if I should say what I'm thinking. But there's something about this night, this moment, that makes me want to tell her.
She glances up at me, one eyebrow raised.
"You could start your own line."
She snorts, looking away. "Yeah, right."
"No, seriously," I insist.
"It's the dream." She laughs lightly at herself. "But it won't happen for a long, long time."
"Why not?"
She gives me a disbelieving look. "It's not that easy."
"Sure it is."
"No, it's not."
"Why not?"
She blows out an exasperated breath. "Because there are a million other people who are a lot more talented and have a hell of a lot more resources than I do. It's not like I can just open a boutique overnight and have a bunch of models walk down a catwalk wearing my clothes. I have to start from the bottom. Get a job at a design house, get seen. And before all that, I need to go back and graduate!"
She looks so genuinely frustrated that I can't help but grin.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"No, seriously," she demands. "Are you laughing at me? "
"Not necessarily at you, no."
"Well, I'm not laughing, so you're obviously not laughing with me," she says, annoyed.
I just grin at her.
Annie lets out a sharp breath, clearly irritated, and folds her arms over her chest. The moonlight glints off the waves behind her, making her hair glow like spun gold. “You think this is funny?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I think you’re underestimating yourself.”
She lets out an incredulous laugh. “Oh, please.”
“I’m serious.” I stop walking, turning toward her fully. “You saw it, didn’t you? At the gala? People were hanging on your every word.”
She rolls her eyes. “That was because I was the odd man out and everyone knew it.”
I shake my head. “No, Annie. That wasn’t it.”
She tilts her head, skeptical.
I take a step closer, watching her reaction. “They were talking about your dress. They were talking about you. And do you know what else?”
She stays silent, waiting.
“Abigail Langford didn’t just like your dress—she wanted one.”
Annie scoffs. “She was just being polite.”
“No, she wasn’t.” I hold her gaze, my tone firm. “Those people aren’t polite . Not about that. She wouldn’t have ridiculed you to your face, but if she didn’t like your dress, she wouldn’t have said anything at all.”
Her lips part slightly, but she doesn’t say anything. I can see her mind working, trying to find a way to dismiss what I’m saying.
“You have the talent,” I continue. “You’ve already proven that. The only thing stopping you from making this happen is you.”
“Yeah, and also, living under a roof and eating and clothing myself and paying for food. It’s easy to dismiss money when you have so much of it that you regularly forget that you own a freakin’ island .”
She throws her arms out to encompass everything around them—the beach, the house.
She drops her arms back to her side and exhales, looking away toward the ocean, her fingers fidgeting with the delicate fabric of her dress. “It’s just not that simple, Cole.”
“Yes, it is,” I say resolutely. But before I can continue, she rounds on me again. “Why is this so hard to understand? It takes more than just talent. It takes connections, money, time—”
“All things you have access to,” I cut in.
Her eyes narrow. “Oh, right. I forgot. Let me just pull a few million dollars out of thin air and launch my own brand. ”
“You wouldn’t need millions,” I say smoothly. “Not to start.”
“Oh, wouldn’t I?” She lets out a bitter laugh. “Do you have any idea how expensive materials, production, marketing, and distribution are? And that’s not even including the fact that no one knows who I am. No one’s just going to throw money at some random girl who made one good dress.”
I arch a brow. “I would.”
She blinks. “What?”
“I would invest in you.”
She stares at me, completely caught off guard. “That’s—” She shakes her head. “No. That’s crazy.”
“Is it?”
“Yes!” she exclaims. “You barely know anything about the fashion industry beyond movies, and you’d just—what? Throw money at me? That’s not how this works.”
I smirk. “You think I don’t know a good investment when I see one?”
She shifts uncomfortably, her arms tightening around herself. “You’re just saying that,” she mumbles.
“Why would you think that?”
She lets out a breath but doesn’t answer.
I take a step closer. “Annie,” I say in a warning tone.
She looks down and kicks the sand a bit with her toe .
“Because we’re sleeping together,” she whispers.
It takes a beat to absorb what she said, then I throw my head back and laugh.
Hard.
And for a really long time.
When my laughter eases a bit, and I can stand up straight again, I see Annie standing there with her hands on her hips, confused at my behavior. I don’t blame her too much. I don’t laugh often, and rarely ever like this.
“What the hell is so funny?” she demands.
“You think I want to invest in you because we’re sleeping together?” I try to stop another round of laughter because I don’t think I can take it. “You really think I’m so careless with my money that I’d throw that much of it on a bad investment because of sex ?”
I take another moment to compose myself and face her. “Annie, honey. If I invested in everyone I’ve ever slept with, I’d have nothing left.”
She narrows her eyes at me, and then turns and stomps away. “Ass!”
“Annie, come on,” I say, smiling. I walk after her, easily catching up. “You kind of walked into that one.”
“You don’t have to throw it in my face. ”
I stop her with a hand around her arm, and she spins to face me.
No more laughter this time. “I wasn’t throwing it in your face, okay? I was just being honest. Look at me,” I say gently.
When she doesn’t, I reach out and cup her chin, tilting her head up to mine.
She lets out a frustrated sigh but doesn’t pull away.
I study her, watching the way the moonlight dances in her blue eyes, her frustration making her look even more stunning.
She’s genuinely mad at me, which I find amusing, but I can also tell she’s fighting something deeper.
I let my voice soften. “I wasn’t making fun of you.”
She exhales sharply, looking away. “Sure felt like it.”
I shake my head. “I was laughing because it’s insane that you’d think I don’t see your potential. I don’t throw money at just anything, Annie. You think you haven’t proven yourself, but you have.”
She tries to turn away from me, look anywhere else, so I tighten my hold on her chin.
I let the silence settle between us, let her absorb what I’m saying.
Then, I continue. “You designed and created a dress—in a couple of weeks, no less—so stunning that people—wealthy, influential people who are regularly around models and A-listers—were asking about it, admiring it. You have the skill, the eye, the ability. And if what’s stopping you is money or connections, then consider that problem solved. Maybe I haven’t seen a ton of your designs, but if that’s the kind of talent you possess, I want in on the ground floor.”
She swallows hard, her throat bobbing. “I… I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll think about it,” I tell her.
She hesitates, then nods slowly. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good. Let’s walk back.”
She nods again. “Okay.”
I step back and take her hand, lacing my fingers with hers. We make a brief stop at the outside shower so she can wash the sand off her feet before we step inside.
I walk her all the way upstairs, and at the door to her room, she stops and turns to me.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"The walk." She smiles a little. “And all of this. The vacation and everything else.”
"Of course."
She looks down and laughs a little. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.”
She half-turns away, intending to walk into her room.
“What do you think you’re doing?” My voice stops her cold.
She turns to me. I can see the uncertainty in her expression.
I arch a brow.
"I've had to watch you in that teeny tiny bikini all damn day, Annie. And now this dress—this damn dress covering that perfect body."
She blushes a little.
"And you want me to just let you walk into your room and not touch you? Not peel the straps of that dress off your shoulders, not pull those flimsy strings that are barely holding this together off your hips. Not bend you over and fuck you until you're screaming my name."
Her breath hitches, her nipples straining against the fabric.
"Not a chance," I growl. "My room. Now."
And without another word, I turn and walk down the hall.
She doesn't make me wait.