Chapter 6
Sophie
Croatia was beautiful. Montenegro had felt wild and exotic. But Albania… Give me Albania any time of day, month, or year. I loved it here. People really knew how to live, and watching them, I was starting to wonder whether I had ever done it right.
I was slowly moving on, inching past the shadow of Jonathan’s death, the sting of Jacqueline’s threats, and the constant fear those criminals had instilled in me.
Whenever I let my guard down, memories surfaced like jagged shards, daring me to stumble back into old pain and falter, but I held fast. Persevered.
Here, in this country, the air felt different.
Each day, the heaviness lifted a little more, and I began to feel pieces of my old self returning.
It was subtle at first—the quiet moments of laughter, the ease in conversation, the sense that I could breathe without looking over my shoulder.
And with each passing day, I realized that perhaps, finally, I could find the way back to my old self.
Yes, it had only been a week since I crossed the border, but every day had somehow managed to outdo the last. Well, aside from the minor mishap with the snake.
From what the locals I pestered had to say, those slithery creatures seemed to prefer the mountains and had the decency to stay away from the coastline.
Totally fine by me.
It had been a week since the incident, and I was finally starting to let it fade into that fog of things best left forgotten.
Instead, I fixed my attention on the view stretching in front of me while I sat on the shaded balcony of the small, picturesque hotel tucked into the hills right outside Vlore, nursing a mug of bitter coffee.
Gosh, Albanians sure knew how to drink their coffee. It felt like a shot of adrenaline straight to my bloodstream. And to think the lovely owners of this inn brewed a milder version of the coffee for me.
I let out a sigh and leaned back on my chaise.
The air hummed with the lazy rhythm of summer on the Albanian coast, thick with the scent of salt and wild thyme drifting up from the cliffs below. The Adriatic shimmered below with its turquoise colors, kissing the Ionian Sea while waves crashed against the rocks in a rhythmic heartbeat.
It was the kind of view that made you want to write poetry or burn your old life down and begin again, although one might argue that was exactly what I was doing.
I exhaled, the sigh carrying on the morning breeze.
Since leaving DC, I’d been floating somewhere between freedom and another feeling I couldn’t quite pinpoint.
Maybe regret that I’d wasted my prime years yearning for something that didn’t exist or the fact that I couldn’t scream from the top of my lungs that Jacqueline was a murderous bitch and needed to be ended.
But then, could I really end her? I was a doctor, and the Hippocratic oath was about saving lives, not eliminating them.
Damn Jonathan. Damn his ex-wife. And damn me for thinking it was okay to give it another go.
A scooter buzzed faintly down the hill, the sound slowly fading while the town came alive with fishermen shouting as they unloaded the day’s catch.
My phone buzzed in my lap. Seeing it was Violet, not my cousin who was needlessly worrying about me, I smiled and slid open the message.
Violet: Still in Albania?
Me: If you’d check our location sharing, you’d know the answer to that.
I watched bubbles appear, then disappear, only to reappear again.
Violet: That’s too much work. Just tell me.
I chuckled.
Me: Yes, I’m still in Albania. How is Greece?
Violet’s answer was vague.
Violet:
Before I could question her about the emojis, another message appeared.
Violet: Got to go. Talk later.
I sighed, wishing our conversation had gone a bit further. Yes, I could call Kristoff, but it was the middle of the night there and he’d sniff out the loneliness in me, then fly out here to demand I return home.
That fateful autumn night that started it all entered my mind, and though the morning was already warm, I tugged my cardigan tighter around me.
“I’m not going there,” I muttered, standing up abruptly. I was startled to see a lizard sunning itself on the railing, scaring him too. “Ugh. Sorry, buddy.”
But he was already gone.
I let out a heavy sigh, realizing my loneliness had me talking to lizards despite the fact that I was terrified of reptiles.
A swim would fix me. I heard saltwater healed everything.
Five minutes later, with my beach bag swung over my shoulder, I followed a narrow, winding path carved into the cliffs all the way down to the little beach. With each step, the sound of waves grew louder.
The cove came into view, the sand golden, soft, and perfect.
There were only two umbrellas in the middle of the beach with two lounge chairs, casting the kind of shade my complexion demanded.
I dropped my bag beside a vacant chair and let myself fall into it, tilting my face toward the sea while I slathered on sunscreen.
Being a fair-skinned redhead was a bitch sometimes.
“They knew what they were talking about,” I muttered to myself, thinking back to the hotel staff that had insisted I visit the beach on the other side of the cliff. I couldn’t believe none of the other locals were here, because this beach was by far superior already.
Done with my sunscreen, I dug out my book and flopped on the chair, then lifted my knees slightly to balance the book on them.
Inhaling a deep breath, I got lost in the story while internally huffing, puffing, and scoffing. I was heating up and it had nothing to do with the morning’s rising temperatures.
I considered myself a logical, rational woman on most days.
Sex? Great. I enjoyed it as much as anyone.
But these books proposed positions that defied physics and romantic obsessions so intense they probably required a prescription.
I mean, these men had such excessive feelings they could power a damn city.
The sound of waves murmured in the background while the breeze brushed its invisible fingers across my arms, raising goose bumps.
Or maybe it was my sixth sense again, warning that someone was watching me.
I looked up and my stomach dropped straight through the sand.
Him.
The man I’d hoped to never see again.
I groaned inwardly. Why couldn’t I catch a break?
He moved across the beach with the unhurried confidence of someone who always knew he’d be noticed.
He wore a crisp white shirt, unbuttoned just enough to tease sun-browned skin.
His sleeves were rolled, an expensive watch winking in the sunlight and sophisticated shorts that, despite everything, didn’t look out of place here.
The man looked downright illegal on the sand, and I couldn’t dispute the fact that this suave silver fox had charisma.
Wait, definitely not. My loneliness and this smexy book were talking. I didn’t need a summer fling with a man I’d already embarrassed myself in front of.
Behind him, his bodyguard stalked silently—his gaze behind those dark sunglasses probably glaring at me—while beside my snake savior, a slim woman in a black one-piece and gauzy white wrap strutted confidently, a cool and territorial expression on her face.
I snapped my book shut, ready to bolt, but by the time I was on my feet, it was already too late. The trio was already casting a shadow over me. Damn that woman, she was a knockout.
“You’re on a private beach,” my savior said in a smooth voice, the twinkle in his eyes doing something to my insides.
I squinted up at him.
“Really?” He nodded. “There aren’t any signs around here.”
And I was fairly positive I would remember if someone had mentioned it.
His mouth quirked as he gestured behind him. “You passed it.”
I followed his gesture to a half-hidden sign at the far end of the cove which was decidedly not in English.
“Well,” I said lightly, “forgive me for not mastering Albanian in the few weeks I’ve been a tourist here. I was busy escaping questionable life choices.”
His dark, magnetic eyes flickered with amusement, skipping over my bag, my sunscreen, and down to the dog-eared book.
“We’re in Albania,” he said dryly. “Hence, signs in the local language.”
“Noted,” I replied. “Next time I’ll bring my phrasebook.”
He tilted his head. “Still running from snakes?”
My heart gave a small, traitorous stutter that he remembered me. “Ahh. I haven’t seen any recently. None here, I hope?”
That coaxed a brief but beautiful smile from the stranger. The woman beside him said something sharp in Albanian and walked off, but he didn’t look away. His gaze stayed on me, steady as the tide of the sea in front of us.
“I’ll be gone in a minute,” I said quickly, fumbling for my bag. “You won’t even know I was here.”
He hesitated before he said slowly, “You can stay.”
I arched my brow. “You’ll make an exception for a stranger?”
“A perfect stranger, yes,” he said, turning to his bodyguard. “But if you give me your name, you’ll no longer be that.”
I smiled. “What if I like being a perfect stranger?”
“Your choice.”
“I’m Sophie Baldwin,” I said finally, chin lifted. “And you are?”
“Kian Cortes.” The name meant nothing to me, although the way he said it, it almost felt like it should. He glanced over his shoulder and spoke to his bodyguard. “Tell the staff that Sophie Baldwin is a guest of mine. She has access to the beach at any time.”
“Thanks,” I murmured, blushing much to my horror.
He gave me a curt nod, then turned and walked toward the woman who stood at the edge of the beach, leaving me blinking after him, my heart beating far too fast.