CHAPTER THREE
1033 Words
---
Chapter Three
Monte Falco Resort, Cuba – 18.06.2008 (Evening)
The sky turned from soft pink to bruised purple as the sun dipped low over the ocean. The resort lights flickered on, bathing the white buildings in a golden hue. From a distance, it all looked peaceful—paradise on Earth.
But in one of the private beachfront villas, something else brewed.
Laughter echoed through the open balcony. Men lounged around in unbuttoned shirts, whiskey glasses in hand, sunglasses pushed up into messy dark hair. Expensive cologne mixed with the salty air.
Dante Creed sat at the head of the long wooden table, a half-empty glass swirling in his fingers. His blue eyes weren't warm—they were cool, unreadable, like still water hiding something dangerous underneath.
Julian leaned back in his chair, a grin tugging at his lips. “That girl though. The one from earlier—did you see her blush when you looked her way, Dante?”
Knox let out a low whistle. “She’s cute, in that innocent, island-girl kind of way. Not your usual type, but I see the appeal.”
Dante didn’t respond right away. He set his glass down slowly and leaned back, letting the shadows play across his sharp jawline.
“Yeah,” he finally said, voice low and smooth. “I saw her.”
Julian laughed again, nudging Knox. “She probably thought she was special. All wide eyes and ponytail. Bet she hasn’t even been touched yet.”
“Naïve as hell,” Knox added. “She’d crumble if you even kissed her neck.”
Dante’s lips curved slightly. Not quite a smile—more like the start of one.
“What if I got her on our bed?” he said quietly, but the words hung heavy in the air. “For us.”
The room stilled for a second.
Julian raised his brows. “You serious?”
Dante’s smirk grew. “Dead serious.”
Knox leaned forward, suddenly more interested. “You mean—like a game?”
Dante shrugged, eyes gleaming. “We’ve done worse.”
Julian let out a low laugh. “Bet she’s a virgin.”
“Even better,” Dante murmured.
There was a pause—then Julian tossed back the rest of his drink.
“Alright. I’m in. But only if we make it fun.”
Knox nodded. “Loser buys the others a new Rolex. Winner gets the girl.”
They all laughed. The kind of laugh that didn’t have warmth. The kind that left a bitter taste in the air.
Dante stood up, stretching, his shirt pulling tight across his chest. He stepped out onto the balcony, the breeze catching his dark hair.
He looked down at the resort grounds. Lights twinkled below. Music played faintly in the distance. And somewhere down there… she was walking around. Working. Laughing. Totally clueless.
“She won’t see it coming,” he said.
---
Isla wiped her hands on her apron, letting out a tired sigh. Her shift was almost over, and her feet were killing her. The evening crowd had been louder than usual, fueled by cocktails and the buzz of having celebrities around—even if they were businessmen in disguise.
Lena slid beside her at the bar, holding two bottles of soda. “Drink. You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”
Isla chuckled and took one. “Thanks.”
“Still thinking about him?”
“Who?” Isla asked, even though she already knew.
“Dante freaking Creed,” Lena grinned. “Girl, you’re not fooling me. You’ve been zoning out all evening.”
Isla took a sip, trying to play it off. “He’s just… different.”
“Different hot.”
“Different dangerous,” Isla corrected.
Lena shrugged. “So? A little danger never hurt anyone.”
Isla gave her a look. “Tell that to all the girls crying over guys like him.”
They both laughed, but deep down, Isla couldn’t shake that strange moment earlier. The laughter she’d overheard. The way Dante had looked at her like he was already pulling strings inside her mind.
She pushed the thought aside. It was probably nothing. Rich guys were always arrogant. Always joking about people like her. She’d heard worse.
Still, something in her gut twisted.
---
Later that night, after her shift, Isla sat by the edge of the dock. The moonlight shimmered on the waves, and soft reggae music played from a nearby speaker. Most of the guests had gone to the beach party. She preferred the quiet.
She pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them.
“I need to stop daydreaming,” she muttered.
Because that’s all it was—daydreams. A silly crush on a man she didn’t know. Someone from a world she’d never belong to.
She wasn’t rich. Or stunning. Or special.
Just Isla Rayne. Island girl. Waitress. Barely getting by.
She picked at the frayed hem of her shorts, lost in thought.
Behind her, back in one of the villas, Dante watched her from the shadows of his balcony. One hand in his pocket. The other holding a cigar he hadn’t even lit.
He wasn’t smiling this time.
Just watching.
Calculating.
“She’s a challenge,” he murmured to no one. “I like challenges.”
---
The next day came fast.
Isla tried to act normal—poured drinks, took orders, smiled at guests. But something felt off.
Maybe it was the way Dante’s friends kept walking past her section. Too close. Too often.
Or maybe it was the smirk Julian wore every time their eyes met.
Like he knew something she didn’t.
“Is it just me,” she whispered to Lena when they were alone, “or are they watching me?”
Lena glanced around. “Girl, everyone’s watching you. You’re the only one here not throwing yourself at them.”
Isla didn’t laugh.
That twist in her stomach returned.
She didn’t know it yet—but she’d already been picked.
Already made the center of a game she hadn’t agreed to play.
And the rules?
They were about to get cruel.
---
- Writer
