The sun was a hammer on the white sand, and the ocean’s roar was the only sound that mattered. Maya lay sprawled on a towel, her dark honey skin glistening, head pillowed on Manuel’s thigh. His thick fingers traced idle patterns on her shoulder, over the strap of her black bikini. He hadn’t stopped touching her since they’d arrived.

Twenty yards down the beach, Eric watched them. He sat on the bottom step of the wooden stairs leading to the house, elbows on his knees. Kristen stood knee-deep in the surf, her back to him, her blonde hair a tangled halo in the salt wind. She hadn’t looked at him once in the last hour.

“You’re staring,” Manuel rumbled, his voice low enough that only Maya heard.

She tilted her head back to look up at him. “He’s trying.”

“Trying is what got him the silent treatment.” Manuel’s hand slid down to her waist, his thumb brushing the dip above her hip bone. She shivered, though she was hot. “He should have broken her. Completely. Then rebuilt her. This… this is a stalemate.”

“You didn’t break me.”

His fingers stilled. “No. You are a unique tactical error.” He bent, his beard scratching her temple as he kissed the shell of her ear. “My favorite error.”

She turned, pushing up on one elbow, and kissed him. It wasn’t a chaste kiss. It was slow, deep, a claiming in broad daylight. Her hand came up to cradle his jaw, holding him there. When she finally pulled back, both of them were breathing harder. His eyes had gone dark, the way they did right before he took her somewhere private.

“Again,” he growled.

She smiled, a real one, and kissed him again. This time his hand fisted in her hair, angling her head, and the sound he made was pure hunger.

Kristen saw it from the water. The easy intimacy. The way Maya melted into the sand under Manuel’s bulk. A sharp, hot needle of jealousy pricked behind her ribs. She loved Eric. She had chosen him on that moonlit floor. But love felt like a bruise now, tender and ugly, and watching them was like pressing on it.

She turned and walked out of the surf, water sluicing down her legs. She didn’t look at Eric as she passed the stairs, heading for the outdoor shower tucked against the side of the house.

Eric stood. He followed.

The shower was a stone alcove, open to the sky. Kristen was already under the spray, head bowed, rinsing salt from her hair. Her blue bikini was plastered to her skin. Eric leaned against the entry arch, blocking the way out.

“You’ve been in the water for an hour,” he said.

She didn’t answer. She ran her hands over her arms.

“Kristen.”

“I’m calm, Eric.” Her voice was flat, a rehearsed line. “See? Calm.”

He pushed off the wall and stepped under the spray with her. The cold water hit his shorts, his chest. She flinched but didn’t move away. He cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. Water dripped from his sharp beard onto her collarbone.

“I can feel you,” he said, his voice low. “Every time you look at them. That little flinch.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You want what they have.” His thumb stroked her cheek. “You can have it. It’s right here. But you have to stop holding that night at the club against me like a weapon. The deal is done. You chose.”

Her eyes glittered, not from the water. “I chose. I didn’t forget.”

“Good.” He leaned in, his lips a breath from hers. “Don’t forget. Remember it when you feel that jealousy. Remember you belong to the man who did that. To me.”

He kissed her. It wasn’t gentle. It was a brand. And for a second, her body betrayed her—her lips parted, a small, hungry sound caught in her throat, her hands came up to clutch his wrists. Then she went still again, a statue in the pouring water.

He broke the kiss, breathing hard. His cock was stiff, pressing against the wet fabric of his shorts. He knew she could feel it. “See?” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. “You’re still in there.”

Back on the beach, Manuel’s phone buzzed in the pocket of his discarded shirt. He ignored it, his mouth trailing down Maya’s neck. It buzzed again. And again.

“Manuel,” Maya murmured, turning her head away from his kiss.

He cursed, a low, French expletive, and reached for it. He looked at the screen. His manager. He answered. “This better be a fire.”

Maya watched his face. She saw the exact moment the last vestige of peace evaporated. His eyes went cold and flat, the way they did when he looked at a balance sheet or a threat. The hand not holding the phone curled into a fist against the sand.

“When?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

He listened. A muscle ticked in his jaw. Maya sat up, pulling her knees to her chest.

“Secure the remaining inventory. Move the team. I don’t care what it costs.” He ended the call. For a long moment, he just stared at the ocean, his expression unreadable.

Then he stood, a massive silhouette against the bright sky. He looked toward the shower alcove and raised his voice, a command that cut through the wind and water. “Eric. We’re leaving.”

Under the shower spray, Eric froze. His eyes closed. He’d been so close. He could feel Kristen’s resolve thinning, her body beginning to soften into his. Now the moment shattered.

He stepped back from her, the heat between them replaced by the chill of the water. “Get dressed. Pack what you need. Five minutes.”

He left her there, dripping and alone.

Twenty minutes later, they were in the air. The jet’s cabin hummed with tension. Maya sat curled in a seat, watching Manuel who stood staring out a window at the disappearing coastline. Kristen sat rigidly opposite Eric, her face a careful blank.

Eric finally broke the silence. “How bad?”

Manuel didn’t turn. “Laurent didn’t just run. He stopped to piss on the throne on his way out. He hit three distribution hubs. Took product. Left witnesses alive to tell the story.”

“A message.”

“A declaration.” Manuel finally turned. His gaze was tectonic, shifting continents of rage and calculation. “The time for watching him is over. We strike back. Not a warning. An eradication.”

He looked from Eric to the girls, his meaning clear. The beach was over. The fragile peace was a memory. The storm was here.