[Setting: The Private Island of Ailos. The Zarek Estate.]
"Zarek," she whined, burying her face in her folded arms. "You’re taking too long. I’m going to burn."
The sun was setting over the Indian Ocean, painting the sky in hues of burnt orange and violent violet, colors that cost money to see.
On the white sand of a private beach that didn’t appear on any public map, Roxy lay on a teak lounge chair, wearing a bikini that consisted of three strategically placed triangles of shimring pink fabric and very little else.
"You won’t burn," Zarek murmured, his voice low and authoritative. "Not while I’m handling it."
He was kneeling beside her chair, a bottle of SPF 50 expensive-slling oil in his hand. His large, calloused hands moved over her back with a slow, deliberate pressure, kneading the muscles of her shoulders, sliding down the curve of her spine, and lingering possessively on her lower back.
He was a billionaire with a god complex and a jealousy streak wide enough to land a plane on, but when it ca to the satisfaction, needs, and happiness of Roxy, he could allow anything.
Zarek stopped his massage. His jaw clenched. He looked up, his dark eyes narrowing.
"Ren," Zarek warned. "If you take one more photo, I will throw that cara into the ocean."
Ren, looking effortlessly gorgeous in unbuttoned linen pants and nothing else, lowered his vintage Leica cara. He pushed his red hair back, flashing a dazzling, magazine-cover smile.
"Art cannot be rushed, Zarek," Ren drawled, circling the lounge chair to get a better angle of Roxy’s legs. "Look at the lighting. Look at the muse. She is radiant. The world deserves to see this."
"The world can buy a postcard," Zarek snapped, his grip on Roxy’s hip tightening just enough to make her squirm pleasantly. "She is for my eyes only."
"You guys are so loud," Roxy mumbled into her towel, though she was smiling.
"Here," a cool, calm voice cut in.
Syris walked over from the open-air bar. He was wearing dark sunglasses and typing on a tablet with one hand, while balancing a frosted glass in the other.
He tapped the screen, and the automated misting fan above Roxy adjusted its angle, blowing a perfect, cooling breeze that lifted her hair like a supermodel’s.
"Hydration," Syris said, holding the glass to Roxy’s lips. "The ’Pineapple Bacardi.’ Pineapple, coconut cream, and a rum blend I distilled myself. 40% ABV. Pace yourself."
Roxy lifted her head and took a sip. It tasted like everything she wanted and loved right now. She took three big gulps.
"Syris, marry again," she sighed, flopping back down.
"We are already married, sweetheart," Syris smirked, checking his tablet. "According to the prenup, you are stuck with us."
Suddenly, a spray of cold saltwater hit them all.
"INCOMING!"
Torian, the heavyweight boxing champion of the world (currently on hiatus), ca sprinting up from the surf. He was dripping wet, his muscles glistening in the sunset, grinning like a golden retriever who had just found a stick.
He stopped right next to Roxy and shook his head violently, spraying water everywhere.
"Torian!" Roxy shrieked, laughing as the cold drops hit her sun-ward skin.
"Dammit, Torian!" Zarek stood up, wiping saltwater off his Rolex. "Do you have no concept of civilization?"
"Water’s great!" Torian laughed, grabbing a towel and scrubbing his hair. "Co on, Roxy! Let’s race to the buoy! I’ll give you a head start!"
"She is not racing," Kaelen’s deep voice rumbled from the patio.
The ex-military security specialist walked down the steps. He was wearing an apron over his bare chest, holding a pair of tongs.
"Food is ready," Kaelen announced. "And she needs protein. She had one mimosa for breakfast and slept until noon."
He walked over to Roxy, ignored the other n, and held out a fork with a perfectly seared, bite-sized piece of Wagyu beef.
"Open," Kaelen commanded gently.
Roxy opened. He fed her. It lted in her mouth.
"Oh my god," Roxy moaned, chewing. "Kaelen, you’re my favorite."
"Hey!" Torian protested.
"I bought you this island," Zarek pointed out, offended.
"I make you look good," Ren added, pouting.
"I manage your portfolio," Syris noted dryly.
Roxy swallowed and giggled, the strong rum already hitting her empty stomach. She rolled over, sitting up and beaming at her five impossible, ridiculous, perfect husbands.
"I love you all," she declared, raising her glass. "But the steak wins."
***
Three hours later.
The vibe had shifted from ’lazy afternoon’ to ’chaotic evening.’
The sun was gone. The moon was huge and full, casting a silver path across the black ocean. A bonfire crackled in the sand pit, sending sparks up into the stars.
Roxy was drunk. Very drunk.
She was currently sitting on Zarek’s lap, wearing Ren’s linen shirt which hung off her shoulder, while Syris refilled her glass for the fourth ti.
"Truth or Dare!" Roxy announced, slamming her hand on Zarek’s thighs. "Zarek! Truth!"
Zarek, who had one hand casually resting on her thigh, raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead."
"Is it true..." Roxy leaned in, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear. "...that you bought the satellite company just so I could get faster Wi-Fi to watch my dramas?"
The other n snickered.
Zarek didn’t flush. He just took a sip of his scotch. "Buffering is unacceptable. Next question."
"My turn!" Torian jumped in, poking the fire with a stick. "Roxy. Dare."
"Hit ," Roxy challenged, her eyes sparkling.
"I dare you to..." Torian grinned wickedly. "...kiss the husband you think is the best kisser. Right now."
Silence fell over the circle. The air grew thick with competition.
Ren leaned forward, licking his lips. Syris adjusted his glasses. Kaelen stopped cleaning the grill. Zarek tightened his grip on her waist.
Roxy looked around the circle. Looking at their awaiting stance, Roxy giggled.
"I choose..." Roxy stood up, swaying slightly. "I choose... the ocean!"
"What?" Zarek asked, frowning.
"The ocean!" Roxy declared, spinning around. "It kisses the shore! It’s poetic! I want to find a seashell! A big pink one!"
She stumbled away from the fire, heading toward the dark water.
"Ga over," Zarek stood up, dusting sand off his pants. "She’s wasted. I’m taking her to bed."
"She wants a shell, let her get a shell," Ren laughed, standing up to follow. "The moonlight looks amazing on her skin."
"I’ll watch her," Kaelen said, moving instantly to flank her. "The tide is coming in."
The five n followed their wandering wife down to the shoreline, watching affectionately as she kicked at the foam, humming a song that didn’t exist.
"Here shell, shell, shell..." Roxy called out to the Atlantic Ocean. "Co to mama..."
She stopped.
She squinted.
Sothing dark was washing up on the pristine white sand. It wasn’t a shell. It was too big. It looked like a pile of seaweed, or maybe a log.
Roxy stumbled closer. "Ooh! Driftwood! I can make a lamp!"
"Roxy, wait," Kaelen’s voice sharpened. He sensed it first. "That’s not wood."
Roxy ignored him. She reached the object.
It was a man.
He was lying face down in the surf, the waves lapping over his legs. He was wearing tattered black pants and a white shirt that was ripped to shreds, revealing a back made of lean, corded muscle. His hair was silver and stuck to his neck.
"Holy shit," Torian whispered, jogging up. "Is he dead?"
"Doesn’t look like it," Zarek assessed instantly, stepping in front of Roxy to shield her. "Syris, call the coast guard. Kaelen, check for weapons."
Roxy peeked around Zarek’s arm.
The man groaned. He rolled over onto his back, coughing up seawater.
The moonlight hit his face.
He was... devastating.
He had high cheekbones that looked like they could cut glass, a jawline carved by Michelangelo, and wet, silver lashes that fluttered against pale, marble skin.
He looked like a fallen prince from a romance novel. Roxy’s drunk brain short-circuited. There was a shiny thing right in front of her.
"Zarek," Roxy whispered, her eyes wide. "Look."
"I see him," Zarek said grimly. "Stay back, Roxy. He could be dangerous."
The stranger Caspian opened his eyes. Even in the dark, they were striking. Golden. Confused. He looked up at the circle of looming n, then his gaze landed on Roxy.
He blinked.
"An angel?" he rasped, his voice hoarse from salt.
Roxy gasped. "He speaks!"
"Stay down," Kaelen ordered the man, stepping forward.
But Roxy was faster.
Fueled by four cocktails and an utter lack of inhibition, Roxy broke free from Zarek’s grip.
"He’s hurt!" Roxy cried. "He needs... body heat!"
"Roxy, no!" Syris yelled.
Roxy didn’t listen. She practically threw herself at the stranger.
Instead of checking his pulse, she straddled him.
Right there in the surf, Roxy climbed on top of the bewildered, half-drowned man, sitting squarely on his chest. Her wet legs bracketed his hips, and she leaned down, patting his wet cheeks with both hands.
"Hi," Roxy grinned, hiccuping. "You’re very sparkly."
Caspian, who had just survived whatever the heck happened to him, stared up at the woman riding him. He felt the warmth of her thighs. He saw the pink bikini. He saw the five angry n standing behind her.
He smiled, a slow, dazed, charming smile.
"Hello," Caspian whispered. "Are you... the welco committee?"
"Roxy!" Zarek roared, his face turning a shade of purple that matched the sunset. "Get off him! Now!"
"Get off him?" Roxy looked back at her husbands. She looked down at Caspian, who was looking at her with absolute worship. She looked at his silver hair. She looked at her pink bikini.
She grabbed Caspian’s shirt collar.
"No!" Roxy shouted back at her husbands, her voice full of drunken defiance.
She grinned wildly, possessing the logic of a toddler who found a stray puppy.
"Look at him! He’s silver! I’m pink!"
She wrapped her arms around the stranger’s neck, hugging the confused man into her chest.
"Finders keepers!" Roxy declared, glaring at Zarek. "I’m keeping him! He matches my bikini!"
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