Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Milo
The van rolls to a stop under a shaded archway covered in flowering vines. The resort lobby is all polished marble and lazy ceiling fans stirring the humid air. Through the open back of the lobby, the ocean sparkles in impossible turquoise, mocking my current mood.
I step out first, sweat already slick at the nape of my neck.
Sienna hops down beside me, her sandals slapping the stone with careless enthusiasm.
She stretches both arms overhead, her tank riding up to reveal a strip of golden skin.
My gaze lingers there for half a second before I force it back to the horizon.
The flight had been bad enough, but the two-and-a-half-hour ride from the airport? That was pure, slow-motion torture.
With her headphones on and the volume cranked, she’d hummed off-key and swayed in her seat. By the hour mark, I was glaring at my laptop like it had personally offended me, and thirty minutes later, I was calculating how fast I could unbuckle her seatbelt and shove her into the roadside jungle.
Five minutes after that fantasy, I slammed my laptop shut hard enough to startle Terrance and turned to glare at her.
Her response?
“Oh, lighten up, Mr. Wet-Pants-Wonder,” she said, pulling the headphones down around her neck, music still pulsing, eyes bright with mischief.
“We’re on vacation. Don’t ruin my vibe.” Then she leaned closer and dropped her voice to a whisper.
“I brought three with me, just in case, you know… one gets ruined.”
The wink that followed made my molars ache.
Running a hand through my hair, I watch Terrance haul our luggage from the back of the van just as two resort employees approach with trays. One drapes vibrant pink leis around our necks while the other offers welcome cocktails topped with tiny paper umbrellas.
Sienna grabs hers immediately, her eyes fluttering shut as she takes the first sip. “Cocktails on arrival? You’re going to make me never want to leave this place.”
I accept mine more slowly and mutter a quiet thanks. I’m not much of a cocktail guy, so I let the condensation drip onto my knuckles as the employees laugh at whatever outrageous thing Sienna just said.
“Right this way, Ms. Harlow and Mr. Reyes,” Terrance gestures for us to follow him inside. “Elena will check you in while I take your luggage to the villa.”
Inside, Elena greets us with a wide smile. “Welcome to Emerald Bay! Checking in for the Cole wedding party?”
“Sienna Harlow and Milo Reyes,” Terrance announces. He grabs a keycard from the desk, then steps back with a wide grin. “I hope you both enjoy your stay at Emerald Bay. You’ll fall in love with the island… and maybe more.”
“Thank you, Terrance!” Sienna beams, slurping the last of her cocktail before setting the empty glass on the desk. She reaches for her wallet to tip him, but I’m faster, pressing a stack of cash into his hand.
Her scowl is immediate, but I don’t give her time to comment on it. I turn my attention back to Elena, who’s tapping her tablet aggressively with her finger. Her brows furrow as she taps it again, and her smile falters when she taps it a third time.
Sienna leans an elbow on the desk, hair tumbling forward. “Elena, why do you look like you just found out the bar ran out of rum, which is crucial for my favorite cocktails.”
Elena clears her throat. “There’s been a… minor double-booking error. Villa 12 was reserved twice—once for Mr. Reyes and once for Ms. Harlow. Both confirmations came through the wedding coordinator.”
My jaw tightens. “And the solution?”
She winces. “The resort is at full capacity. Two wedding blocks plus a corporate retreat. No other villas, suites, or even standard rooms are available for the next two weeks.”
Sienna lets out an incredulous laugh. “So we’re stuck sharing a villa for the next fourteen days?”
“I’m terribly sorry,” Elena says, hands clasped. “It’s a two-bedroom oceanfront villa with separate bathrooms and a private deck featuring a hot tub. We’ll comp daily breakfast, spa credits, excursions… anything to make your stay exceptional.”
“Double-booked in paradise?” Sienna snorts, her voice dripping with mock delight. “Fantastic.”
Placing my still full cocktail on the desk, I rub my temple as a headache blooms behind my eyes. “It’s two bedrooms. We’ll manage.”
“Manage?” Sienna’s eyes narrow into perfect, lethal crescents. “We met because I baptized your crotch at cruising altitude, and now we’re supposed to… manage?”
Elena slides two keycards across the desk, her fingers trembling slightly. “The path to villa 12 is down the walkway to your right. The welcome dinner for your wedding party is at seven tonight. Please let us know if there’s anything else we can help with.”
“Can you help hide bodies so they’ll never be found?” Sienna asks sweetly, popping a hip. Elena’s forehead beads with sweat. “I’m kidding… mostly. I mean, I’ve never done it, but I’m a quick study. Never say never, right?”
“Sienna,” I mutter in warning.
She rolls her eyes and snatches both keycards from the desk, thrusting one into my palm. She also takes the cocktail I didn't finish, downs it in three sips, and places the empty glass back on the desk before walking away with a polite smile toward Elena.
“We need rules before one of us commits a crime.” She pauses as we step outside, then turns to look at me.
“I don’t know about you, but my record is clean—unless you count the time I was almost arrested for public indecency.
In my defense, I didn’t realize my dress had slipped, and I was flashing my nipples to half of Miami. ”
I nearly choke, my eyes subtly drifting to her chest before catching myself and looking away. Why doesn’t that surprise me?
Sienna Harlow screams chaotic, and I just know she’s unapologetic about everything in her life.
“Agreed,” I reply with a single nod. “Rules. I’m not about to tarnish my record for someone who—”
“Who what?” she cuts in, arching a brow. “Is the epitome of perfection?”
A short laugh escapes me before I can stop it, but I quickly cover it with a cough. “Sure… keep telling yourself that.”
“I will,” she grins sarcastically. “Rules: knock before entering any non-shared space. I don’t care if the villa is on fire—knock first. I’m not about to be mid-orgasm and get interrupted by you and your… broodiness.”
I shove the mental image of her using one of her three vibrators out of my head, then clear my throat. “No bringing people back to the villa—”
She throws her hands up. “I feel like I’m on vacation with my parents. One wrong breath, and I’ll be punished, right?”
“—without telling the other person first,” I finish with an eyeroll.
She purses her lips, considering, then gives a reluctant nod. “Fine. Deal.”
We go back and forth on a few more rules—some ridiculous, some almost sensible.
Sienna makes it abundantly clear that our cohabitation will be strictly professional.
No sex. No kissing. Absolutely nothing sexual, because that would be messy and complicated, and she is obviously a paragon of responsibility.
She delivers the whole speech with theatrical emphasis, then finishes it with a blindingly sweet smile and declares it a “fun-only” vacation.
I nod in agreement, even though something twists uncomfortably in my chest.
“Oh, and shirtless wandering is not only permitted,” she adds on with a wicked grin. “But also highly encouraged. Staring is, of course, mandatory.”
I raise a brow, fighting the grin that tugs at my mouth. “Staring is mandatory?”
“Equity, baby.” She shrugs one shoulder, casual as ever. “You get to look. I get to look. But no whining when my eyes linger. Not that I’ll be looking… much.”
My gaze deliberately drops to her mouth for half a second before returning to her eyes. “My ego appreciates the clarification, but don’t lie to yourself—you’ve already cataloged the view multiple times.”
She lifts her chin, spins on her heel, and starts walking. “Keep telling yourself that, and maybe one day it’ll come true.”
I follow closely behind her, the keycard warm in my hand. Palm fronds brush overhead, and the ocean grows louder, a steady hush-hush that should calm me but only amplifies the pulse in my ears. Sienna’s knee bounces with every step, even though she’s standing.
That constant motion of hers is exhausting and magnetic.
“You’re staring,” she says without looking back. “It’s giving serial killer vibes.”
“I’m observing.”
“Observing what, exactly? The way my hair is staging a full rebellion against the humidity?”
I let out a quiet laugh as the villa comes into view. Hibiscus bushes line the path in bright pink and yellow, and a large archway covered in vines frames the door.
Sienna taps her keycard and steps inside. “Okay… this is obscene.”
She’s not wrong.
The open living area features pale wood floors and a curved cream couch facing a TV with the resort’s logo glowing on screen.
A small, fully equipped kitchenette sits off to one side.
My eyes go straight to the coffee machine, knowing I’ll be living on caffeine for the next fourteen days if I’m forced to share this beautiful space with someone as chaotic as Sienna.
Speaking of chaos, she bounces—literally—over to the sheer curtains and pushes them aside, revealing our deck. Both sides are framed by hibiscus bushes, and a tangle of vines attached to a wooden structure with flowers blooming, creating a perfect private area.
A hot tub is already bubbling, with steam curling around it at the center of it all, and a small wooden table with four chairs sits to the right. To the left is a staircase that leads onto the beach, with two cushioned lounge chairs angled perfectly toward the glistening ocean and the setting sun.
Back inside, Sienna checks both bedrooms and immediately claims the one on the left because it’s “bigger” and “has a better view.” I don’t argue. Instead, I grab my luggage and head to the bedroom on the right.
Throwing my suitcase onto the bed, I unzip it and unpack methodically—hanging shirts, folding shorts, lining up toiletries in the private bathroom. It’s peaceful until her delighted laugh rings out from the living area.
“Champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries! This place is trying to make me quit my job and reside here permanently.”
I step out of my bedroom and walk down the short hallway to the living area, where she’s pouring two flutes of champagne. Her hair is wild from the humidity, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes sparkling with mischief as she bites into a chocolate-covered strawberry, the juices dripping down her chin.
She looks like trouble wrapped in sunshine, and I’m already thirsty.
“Peace offering?” She offers me a flute.
I take it from her, our fingers brushing. A spark travels up my arm, but I ignore it. My mouth opens to thank her, but she’s already heading outside. Following her, I lean against the wooden railing beside her as the sun dips toward the horizon.
“One more rule,” Sienna says, setting her glass down and hopping up to sit on the railing, legs swinging. “No falling in love with me. Seriously. I’m irreplaceable. Limited edition. A one-of-a-kind, chaos-infused machine. You’d never recover from the withdrawal.”
I set my own glass down and fold my arms. “I’ll do my best to resist your devastating charm.”
“Good luck,” she flashes a toothy smile. “Most men crumble by day three.”
“I’m not most men.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
She studies me for a long beat, then hops down, leans her hip against the railing, and raises her glass. “To surviving fourteen days without a felony.”
I clink my glass against hers. “To rules… and not breaking them.”