One Drunken Night in Paradise.

Seraphina Seraphina Moore stepped off the plane and immediately wished she had sunglasses—not for the sun, but so no one could see her utterly unimpressed face. The air smelled like salt, hibiscus, and pure vacation clichés, and somehow she was expected to enjoy it. Twenty-six, upper-middle-class, freshly dumped by a married man who clearly thought marriage was a suggestion, she had somehow blackmailed her ex-boss into funding this “dream” getaway. Dream. Yeah. Right. If she was honest, she mostly wanted to drink in a villa with a pool bigger than her old apartment and pretend her life wasn’t a soap opera. At the island airport, immediately she'd collected her luggage ,one of the guides approached her when he finished discussing with the previous fellow vacationer he'd been talking to. YOU'LL NEED TO BOARD A ride to the dock before you get to this resort ma’am.” After spending thirty almost-miserable hours to get here—this included two lengthy stop overs, sightseeing Paris on a low budget during the eleven hours stopover and maintaining a sense of calm during her twelve-hour flight from Paris to Calypso as her clumsy seat mate kept letting his meal fly out of his plate—the last thing she needed right now was to take another means of transportation to her final destination. She badly needed to lay on a proper bed and sleep away her heartbreak while she plotted her grand revenge plan. Now she just needed who would take her bags so she could cry in peace, Lord knew she needed it. The thought of sleeping in this lounge, although more grandeur than that of Paris or even Atlanta, made her skin crawl. she needed a bath. She had a quick shower for twenty euros at the Paris layover before heading into town with no prior plans. If she had planned ahead, she would have probably enjoyed touring the city of love. But she was grumpy all through her first high speed train ride and ended up at The Louvre which turned out to be fun but a lot of walking. After complaining about sitting for hours from Atlanta to Paris, she couldn’t stand three hours of walking and regretted taking her bath before heading out. Suddenly she was interrupted from her ramblings when she spotted a particular manleaning against the jet’s boarding stairs with the kind of confidence that screamed I know exactly how attractive I am and yes, it’s irritating. Salt-and-pepper hair, piercing ice-blue eyes, and a smirk that could make someone simultaneously swoon and plot murder. He tilted his head at her. “Careful. That luggage looks deadly.” Seraphina gave him a glare sharp enough to break glass. “And your smug face looks deadly too. Noted.” Across the tarmac, the other guy—the dark-haired, golden-eyed enigma she barely noticed—sat like a throne-sitting pirate in the cabin lounge. He hadn’t said a word, but somehow, he was all of a warning and a temptation in one glance. She shoved her thoughts aside, following the staff to the private jet. Inside, it smelled faintly of leather, polished wood, and something dangerously expensive. Plush cream leather seats practically dared her to lounge. She did, for approximately thirty seconds before realizing the first man had also boarded, settling across from her with a smile that suggested he already knew everything about her—and probably judged it.Fucker . She busied herself flipping through the in-flight brochure. Nothing screamed subtle luxury like reading “Welcome to Paradise” while trying not to notice a man smirking at you from three feet away. Finally after what felt like million hours,they landed at the resort. Your ride has arrived. Finally! "atleast I got that right" she muttered to herself as she moved to the patio having made sure she lost the non business minding prude after they jet landed. How would she get the hell out of this place? Where did the rides park park to wait? It didn't take long to figure it all out. Thanks to the map of the shared riding service she had been advised to download by one of the attendants. Pulling her suitcase and hand luggage she begin trudging to the visualized location. Looking up, she spotted the first exit sign. Is this the one that lead to the private parking? Or the park and ride? Why did everything have to be so organized? she opted for the exit sign. It would give her a better chance of spotting the silver ride waiting for her, according to the description she'd been sent. When she arrived at her villa, it was exactly as advertised—if the ad had been written by someone who thought subtlety was for peasants. Floor-to-ceiling windows, infinity pool stretching into the horizon, and orchids that probably judged her bad life choices silently. She ran a hand across the marble counter. Not bad, Seraphina. You might actually survive this trip without crying into a cocktail… maybe. Ignoring her villa’s serene perfection, she wandered into a bar recommended by the resort brochure. It had the whole serene vibe going for it. As she made her way to the bar ,she realised she had made a pretty big mistake. There he was. The first man. Leaning against the bar like he owned every air molecule in the room. Ice-blue eyes, perfect posture, married—but somehow entirely too tempting. Great. Of fuvking course. She'd never backed down from a challenge and she definitely wasn't going to now. As she squared up and walked to the bar ,she felt more than a dozen pair of eyes track . She'd taken her sweet time dressing up. She'd zoomed off the minute he started talking, finally she couldn’t take it any longer. She excused herself with the finesse of a cat avoiding a puddle, muttering, "My luck is officially cursed. Absolutely cursed." Retreating to the restroom, she leaned against the marble counter. Alright, Seraphina. You are not thirty drinks away from a life decision. You are not. You are on a holiday. You are cool. You are competent. You are… slightly terrified, but whatever. Glancing at the brochure again, she realised—surprise!—this bar was the boring one. Couples’ lounge. Perfect for romance novels, terrible for a half-drunk girl with a thirst for chaos. She grabbed the bottle of wine she had already paid for and fled, guided by the glowing map on her phone. The real party pulsed ahead—neon lights, screaming laughter, bass vibrating through her chest, people who clearly had no concept of personal space. She dove in, half drunk, adrenaline high, ignoring all the adult responsibilities she pretended to have. Colours swirled around her—pink lights bouncing off silver sequins, golden drinks catching the glow, someone’s hair so bright it looked radioactive. She danced like she was auditioning for a music video, laughed at herself, and spun into a random girl with electric blonde hair. “VIP?” the girl shouted over the music. “Come sit with us and cool off!” Seraphina blinked. Cool off? She was already a human fireworks display, but sure, why not? She followed the girl, weaving through the crowd, sipping her wine, still dizzy from excitement. And that’s when she saw him. The dark-haired stranger. The golden-eyed enigma. Watching her. Smiling. Calm. Dangerous. Probably planning world domination—or at least some mild revenge on her sobriety. The girl’s friend nudged her. “Drink challenge? Dare competition? Like the good old days?” Seraphina grinned—alcohol, adrenaline, chaos? Yeah, this is going to be fun. And somewhere deep in her chest, a tiny voice whispered: Yeah… this night is about to go horribly, ridiculously, magnificently wrong.