The helicopter ride was loud, terrifying, and breathtakingly beautiful.
Eunice clutched the safety handle with one hand and her stomach with the other as the chopper banked over turquoise water so clear she could see the reefs below.
"Where are we?" she shouted over the noise of the rotors.
Hart, sitting opposite her in a casual white linen shirt and sunglasses that cost more than her car, didn't shout back. He simply pointed out the window.
Below them lay a tiny, lush green island surrounded by white sand. There was a single, modern glass villa perched on a cliff overlooking the ocean. No resorts. No tourists. No cell towers.
"My private island," Hart's voice crackled through her headset. "Coordinates are classified. My grandmother doesn't know it exists."
The helicopter landed on a small pad near the villa. As soon as the rotors stopped, the silence was absolute. Just the sound of waves crashing and birds calling.
Hart jumped out, offering his hand to help her down. The tropical heat hit them instantly, humid and sweet with the scent of hibiscus.
"Welcome to our honeymoon," Hart said dryly, leading her toward the villa.
"Honeymoon?" Eunice scoffed, swatting a mosquito. "You mean hiding."
"Strategic relocation," Hart corrected. "Until the Board calms down and my grandmother stops trying to poison your food, we stay here. Just us."
Eunice stopped. "Just us? Where are the staff? The chef? The cleaners?"
Hart unlocked the front door with a biometric scan. "No staff. Staff can be bribed. Staff have phones. Here, there are no leaks."
He pushed the door open to reveal a stunning, open-concept living space with floor-to-ceiling windows. It was luxurious, modern, and… completely empty of people.
"You mean..." Eunice followed him inside, her eyes wide. "We have to cook? Clean? You have to cook?"
Hart walked to the kitchen island, which was stocked with high-end groceries. He picked up an apron—black, sleek, and surprisingly fitting.
"I can cook," Hart stated defensively. "I made you toast."
"You burned the toast," Eunice reminded him.
"I made you soup," Hart countered.
"You boiled a whole carrot," Eunice deadpanned.
Hart glared at her, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "I am a quick learner. Besides, we have a grill. Fire is easy."
Eunice laughed. It was the first genuine laugh she had let out in days. Seeing the billionaire CEO standing in a pristine kitchen, ready to conquer a grill, made the terrifying reality of their situation feel a little less heavy.
"Okay, Survivor Man," Eunice said, walking past him to the bedroom. "I'll unpack. You figure out fire."
She opened the door to the bedroom.
It was magnificent. A massive king bed faced the ocean. A sunken bathtub in the corner. But as she looked around, her smile faded.
There was only one bed.
And unlike the penthouse, there was no guest room down the hall. No couch in the living room (it was a sleek, uncomfortable art piece).
"Hart?" she called out.
"Yes?" Hart appeared in the doorway, rolling up his sleeves.
"Where are you sleeping?"
Hart leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. He looked at the bed. He looked at her.
"The bed is big enough for two, Eunice," he said, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous register. "We are married. We have slept together before."
"With a pillow wall!" Eunice argued, feeling her face heat up. "And because you had insomnia! This is different. We are alone on an island."
Hart walked into the room. He stopped in front of her, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at him.
"Does it scare you?" he murmured, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered on her neck, sending shivers down her spine. "Being alone with me?"
"No," Eunice whispered, though her heart was pounding. "It scares me that you think this is just a game."
Hart's eyes darkened. "This isn't a game. This is survival. And I sleep better when I can hear you breathing."
He stepped back, breaking the tension.
"Get changed," he ordered, turning back to the door. "Wear a swimsuit. We're going swimming."
"Swimming?" Eunice blinked. "I thought I was 'fragile'?"
"Dr. Liam said light exercise is good for the twins," Hart called over his shoulder. "And the water here is perfect. Meet me on the deck in ten minutes."
Eunice stood alone in the bedroom. She opened her suitcase. She had packed a few swimsuits, mostly modest one-pieces. But right on top was a bikini Debby had forced her to buy years ago. It was red. Bright, fire-engine red.
She hesitated.
He's my husband, she thought. Even if it's fake.
She grabbed the red bikini.