Chapter 45
Practiced Efficiency
The island looked like it had been shaken and left to settle.
Emma walked along the pathway from the staff quarters toward the main resort building, her eyes cataloging damage with practiced efficiency.
Scattered palm fronds littered the stone walkways, some still dripping from the deluge.
Two decorative planters had toppled near the fountain, spilling soil across the pavers in dark, muddy streaks.
The palms themselves bent at angles they hadn’t had the day before, their trunks stressed but not broken.
Everywhere around her, staff were moving. The first of them had returned that morning, while she was with Zach. Maintenance was the first scheduled to return, but she’d bet her last dollar security had been in the first boatload.
A maintenance crew worked in the west courtyard, clearing debris with methodical focus. Two groundskeepers hauled branches toward a growing pile by the service road. Lights shone from the windows of the main building, people bustled about, and systems hummed back to life.
Emma’s shoulders settled as she took it in. The storm had passed. The danger was over. Now came the part she understood best: putting the pieces back together.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket—a text from David confirmed their meeting. Another from the Maintenance Director with a preliminary damage assessment. She’d read them both in a moment, but for now, she walked and inspected, making notes.
The air smelled clean. Rain-washed and salt-bright, with the electric clarity that followed a storm.
Her hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, still damp from her shower with Zach.
She’d chosen casual clothes—dark jeans and a crisp white blouse, professional but practical—and the normalcy of it felt almost surreal after the events of the past twenty-four hours.
The Windstone. The storm. Zach.
Her pulse kicked, but she didn’t let herself dwell. Not yet. She had work to do first.
She turned toward the administrative wing and nearly collided with Maria from housekeeping.
“Ms. Vann!” Maria’s face brightened. “You’re all right!”
“I’m fine,” Emma offered her a warm smile. “Are you? Is everyone accounted for?”
“Yes, ma’am. All staff present and safe. We’re finishing the final room checks.”
“Any damage to the guest accommodations?”
“Minor water intrusion in two suites on the east side—the window seals need replacing. Maintenance is already on it. Everything else held. We’ll be ready for opening day.”
Emma nodded, a knot of tension easing. “Good. Thank you for moving so quickly on this.”
Maria waved a hand. “This is what we do. Besides—” She lowered her voice, glancing around with a conspiratorial air. “After what Mr. Steele’s security protocols put us through during that lockdown drill last month? This was easy.”
A laugh bubbled up. “I’ll be sure to tell him you said so.”
“Please don’t,” Maria grinned. “I like this job.”
She moved on, and Emma continued toward the conference room, fielding two more check-ins along the way—both from department heads confirming their teams were intact, and operations and normal schedules would resume the next morning.
Each conversation settled something in her chest. This was familiar territory.
Crisis management, staff coordination, operational oversight.
This was what she was good at.
She was halfway across the lobby when she noticed it. A small, folded piece of paper, cream-colored and elegant, rested on the corner of the reception desk; her name written in script.
Miss Emma.
She recognized the handwriting.
Her heart did a strange little flip as she picked it up and unfolded it. The paper was thick, expensive, the kind the resort used for formal correspondence. The message was simple:
The heart has chosen well.
No signature. None needed.
Emma stood still, read the words again, then a third time. Ana-Luz had left this for her. Had known—somehow—what had happened. Or at least what it meant.
She thought of how the Windstone dissolved in her palm. Of the way the wind answered her command. Of the way Zach had looked at her in the aftermath, like she was something both familiar and new.
She read it again.
The heart has chosen well.
A small smile touched her lips. She folded the note and slipped it into her pocket; its weight settled against her hip like a talisman.
She continued toward the conference room.
The door was open when she arrived, voices drifting into the hallway: Nick’s steady baritone, David’s quicker cadence, the slight electronic echo of Kate and Lena on a video call.
Emma paused in the doorway, taking in the scene.
Nick stood by the window, arms crossed, his attention on David as he gestured at something on his tablet.
The giant monitor mounted to the wall displayed Kate in her home office on Mimosa Cay, her chocolate-brown hair pulled back, expression focused.
Beside her in a separate video window, Lena lounged in what was clearly a hotel room somewhere, a coffee cup in hand and an amused smirk on her face.
And Zach—
Zach stood apart from the others, near the back wall, his posture relaxed but alert. His eyes snapped to her the instant she appeared, his gray-blue gaze locked onto hers with an intensity that made her pulse skip.
“Emma,” Nick straightened. “Good. We’re reviewing preliminary reports.”
She stepped inside; the door closed behind her. “What’s the damage?”
“Minimal,” David answered. He turned his tablet toward her, displaying an itemized list. “Landscaping took the worst of it—several palms will need support structures, and we lost two young trees near the north beach. Some minor flooding in low-lying areas, but drainage systems handled it well. No structural damage to any buildings.”
She nodded, scanning her copy of the report. It could have been so much worse. “And the bomb?”
Nick’s expression hardened. “Recovered and neutralized. Marcus's little surprise never had a chance to deploy.”
“Only the one?”
“Yes,” Zach confirmed from behind her. His voice was low, measured. Warm. “We swept the entire property twice. Nothing else.”
Emma glanced back at him and caught the edge of something in his eyes—satisfaction, maybe, or grim approval—before turning back to the others.
“Staff?” Nick asked.
“All accounted for,” Emma said. “Everyone followed lockdown protocols. No injuries, no panic.”
“So what’s the timeline for resuming operations?” Kate asked from the screen, leaning forward. “When are you coming home?”
“Staff returns to normal schedules tomorrow,” Emma slipped into planning mode. “Today is recovery and assessment only—skeleton crew for essential services. Guest bookings don’t start for another two weeks, so we have time to complete repairs and implement any additional security measures.”
“Speaking of which,” David glanced toward Zach. “We need to discuss protocol updates. Now that we know how far Marcus was willing to go—”
“Already handled,” Zach cut in, tone flat, brooking no argument. “Perimeter sensors will be upgraded, patrol patterns randomized, and I’m implementing a secondary verification system for all supply deliveries.”
Emma bit back a smile. That was pure Zach—three steps ahead, always moving.
His eyes locked onto David. “You need to figure out the linkage issue.”
David frowned. “I will. I can’t believe that arrogant ass saw a weakness I didn’t.”
“Is there anything else we should address immediately?” Nick asked the room at large. Heads shook all around.
“All right, then. David and I will continue with structural inspections. Emma, can you coordinate with department heads on the operational side?”
“Already started,” she confirmed.
Nick turned to Zach. “Walk with me? I want to see your new perimeter sensors.”
Zach nodded and pushed off from the wall with the effortless, controlled grace he always seemed to possess, although he wasn’t one hundred percent yet.
He proceeded the other men toward the door, David still scrolling through something on his tablet, Nick discussing schedules.
Emma stayed where she was, turning to address something Kate had just asked about staffing rotations.
Zach passed her, close enough she caught his scent—mahogany and teakwood and something darker, richer.
His fingers brushed along the inside of her wrist.
Light. Deliberate. Gone.
The touch lasted less than a second, a whisper of contact, but it sent a shockwave up her arm. Her pulse jumped and heat bloomed where his fingertips had brushed.
Emma didn’t move—didn’t react outwardly—but every nerve ending lit hyper-aware, attuned to the space he’d vacated.
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
Emma blinked and forced her focus to the screen where Kate was still talking about… something. She’d lost the thread. Zach had just publicly—albeit subtly—claimed her.
“Emma?”
She looked up.
Lena was grinning, wide and knowing and absolutely delighted.
“Yeah?” Emma aimed for casual and missed by a mile.
“I saw that.”
Emma’s stomach flipped. “Saw what?”
“The touch.” Lena’s grin widened, catlike and smug. She leaned closer. “The little wrist thing Zach just did. Very smooth. Very subtle.” Her eyes glinted with mischief. “Very interesting.”
Kate’s eyes twinkled as she listened.
Heat crept up Emma’s neck. “It was nothing.” Why was she deflecting? These were her friends.
“Uh-huh.” Lena set down her coffee cup. “If that’s nothing, I would absolutely love to see what you call something.”
“Lena—”
“I’m just saying,” Lena was clearly enjoying herself. “For a guy who has all the emotional range of a glacier, that was downright tender.”
“It was a touch,” Emma said, knowing she’d already lost this battle even while she wondered why she was fighting it. “People touch. It happens.”
“Not Zach,” Kate said quietly.
Emma’s gaze snapped to the other woman.