9. Not Your Secret
Chapter nine
Not Your Secret
Piper
I was not snooping.
That fact became very important to me approximately six seconds after Aunt Vivienne handed me back my phone and Graham started acting like a man trying not to emotionally combust.
“I left this at the café?” I asked.
Vivienne nodded serenely.
“You were rescuing Eleanor from decorative-light entanglement.”
“That sounds accurate.”
Graham stood beside her looking deeply uncomfortable for reasons I did not yet understand.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
“Everything okay?” I asked carefully.
“Fine,” Graham answered immediately.
Vivienne and I exchanged identical looks.
Men.
Honestly exhausting.
The sunset mixer had transformed the main courtyard into glowing tropical chaos again:
string lights overhead
music drifting from the beach
guests laughing around cocktail tables
billionaire suspects aggressively pretending not to campaign
Boone Ashcroft wearing a cowboy hat indoors like a man fighting for regional identity
Meanwhile Graham looked one stress headache away from collapse.
His jaw was tight. His shoulders tighter.
And now he kept glancing at my phone like it personally threatened civilization.
Uh oh.
I unlocked the screen fully.
The article draft immediately reappeared.
My stomach dropped.
Questions continue to surround Azure Palms Resort and its suspiciously secretive management practices…
Oh no.
I skimmed quickly.
The piece painted Azure Palms like some manipulative luxury scam:
fake romance marketing
hidden ownership
“emotional branding tactics”
misleading fundraising structure
It felt slimy.
Worse—it felt unfair.
Because anybody who’d actually spent time here would know the resort genuinely cared about people.
I looked up slowly.
“Someone’s writing this?”
“Yes,” Graham said quietly.
“How long have you known?”
“Long enough.”
I stared at him.
Then back at the article.
Then back at him again.
“You didn’t tell me.”
His expression tightened slightly.
“No.”
“Why?”
The question slipped out softer than intended.
Not accusatory exactly.
Just…hurt.
Because somehow it felt strange realizing there was this whole storm happening around the resort while he carried it alone.
Stranger still that he’d never asked anyone to help carry it.
Vivienne’s gaze flicked between us with dangerous interest.
Probably mentally planning our wedding already.
Terrifying woman.
Graham glanced toward the crowd nearby before lowering his voice.
“We didn’t want guests panicking.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Silence.
Ocean breeze moved softly through the courtyard.
Lantern light flickered gold against the stone pathways.
And suddenly this didn’t feel like a resort conversation anymore.
It felt personal.
I crossed my arms lightly.
“We’re friends, Graham.”
His eyes lifted to mine immediately.
That word always affected him strangely.
Friends.
Like he both loved hearing it…and hated it a little too.
“I know,” he said quietly.
“Then why am I finding out from my own phone?”
Vivienne coughed delicately.
“I’m going to leave before this becomes emotionally educational.”
Neither of us stopped her.
Traitor.
As she passed Boone Ashcroft, she calmly removed his cigar with two fingers and said, “Absolutely not.”
Boone looked genuinely humbled.
She disappeared into the crowd while Graham and I stood near the terrace in uncomfortable silence.
Somewhere behind us, a donor loudly attempted karaoke.
Badly.
“Sweet Caroline” suffered tremendously.
At least two guests appeared to be singing different songs entirely.
Still, neither of us spoke for several seconds.
Finally Graham exhaled slowly.
“The article’s mostly speculation.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“We’re handling it.”
“You’re handling it,” I corrected softly.
His gaze shifted away briefly.
That tiny movement told me everything.
He’d been carrying this alone.
Again.
Because apparently Graham Mercer believed emotional support was a myth invented by weak people and decorative throw pillows.
Annoying man.
I leaned against the terrace railing beside him.
“You know what your problem is?”
“I’ve heard this conversation before.”
“You think protecting people means shutting them out.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“It literally is.”
He looked at me then.
Really looked.
And there it was again – that strange heaviness underneath his calm exterior.
Like he constantly carried more than he let anyone see.
The realization tightened something unexpectedly inside my chest.
“I don’t want the resort hurt,” he said quietly.
Neither did I.
Azure Palms mattered to both of us in ways hard to explain to outsiders.
And maybe that was why talking to Graham always felt easier than it should have.
This place wasn’t just luxury. It wasn’t just tropical fantasy.
It was safe, warm, carefully built.
And somehow…home.
I softened a little.
“Okay. So tell me what’s happening.”
His jaw flexed.
Tiny hesitation.
There.
That again.
Like he was standing at the edge of saying something enormous.
But instead he looked back toward the ocean.
“There are rumors about the fundraiser structure,” he said carefully. “And the ownership setup.”
Ownership setup?
That phrasing caught my attention immediately.
“What does that mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like.”
“You are unbelievably frustrating to talk to sometimes.”
“I’m aware.”
“No, seriously. You answer questions like a witness under federal protection.”
That almost-smile flickered briefly.
Tiny. Quick. Dangerous.
“I’m trying to avoid making things worse.”
“By becoming mysteriously suspicious?”
“That wasn’t intentional.”
I studied him carefully.
And suddenly—for the first time all week—a strange little thought surfaced.
Not that he was the billionaire.
No. That was ridiculous.
But…
maybe there really was more going on than he admitted.
The article. The donor records. The stress. Vivienne’s comments. The weird secrecy.
My stomach tightened unexpectedly.
“Graham,” I said more quietly, “is there something you’re not telling me?”
His eyes met mine instantly.
And for one suspended moment—
I genuinely thought he might tell me.
And part of me desperately wanted him to.
The courtyard noise faded strangely around us. Music softened. Ocean breeze shifted warm against my skin.
His expression changed.
Not panic. Not calculation.
Something sadder.
Something almost vulnerable.
Like he already knew the truth would cost him something.
Then—
a burst of drunken singing exploded behind us.
“BAH BAH BAHHHHH!”
We both jumped.
A millionaire donor had fallen off the karaoke stage.
Honestly? That felt spiritually on-brand for the week.
Boone Ashcroft immediately yelled, “HE COMMITTED TO THE PERFORMANCE.”
The moment shattered immediately.
Graham rubbed a hand over his jaw.
“I should deal with that.”
“Coward.”
His eyes flicked back toward mine.
“Probably.”
But neither of us moved right away.
And suddenly I became painfully aware of:
how close he stood
the warmth of his shoulder near mine
the ocean wind lifting his hair
the exhaustion in his eyes
He looked tired.
Not physically.
Soul tired.
Like he’d spent so long taking care of everyone else that he’d forgotten how to let anyone take care of him.
The feeling that hit me then startled me completely.
Protectiveness.
Toward him.
Oh no.
No no no.
That seemed dangerous.
Very dangerous.
Because caring about Graham suddenly felt less like a crush…and more like inevitability.
I looked away first.
“I trust you,” I admitted softly.
The words surprised both of us.
Graham went completely still.
And when he answered—
his voice sounded rougher than usual.
“That’s what scares me.”
My breath caught slightly.
Before I could even process that response, Marco came sprinting into the courtyard waving both arms wildly.
Naturally.
“GRAHAM!”
We turned instantly.
Marco looked pale.
Actually pale.
Not normal Marco dramatic.
Even his hair looked alarmed.
“What happened?” Graham asked sharply.
Marco pointed toward the resort buildings.
“The weather service updated the storm track.”
Everything in Graham’s posture changed immediately.
Focused. Sharp. Controlled.
“What storm?”
Marco swallowed hard.
“The tropical system?” He looked between us nervously. “They think it’s turning toward the island.”
The courtyard music kept playing. Guests kept laughing. Lanterns glowed warmly overhead.
Meanwhile every instinct in Graham’s body visibly locked into emergency mode.
And suddenly…
for the first time all week…
Azure Palms didn’t feel invincible anymore.
And judging by the look on Graham’s face, neither did the future.