CHAPTER FOUR
1118 Words
Chapter Four
Monte Falco Resort had its way of shining brighter when Dante Creed walked through it. Maybe it was the way the sunlight bounced off his dark shades or how the resort staff seemed to stiffen, eyes trailing his every step. Either way, the buzz around the billionaire wasn’t fading. It was only getting stronger.
Isla tried not to notice it. She tried to focus on carrying the tray of piña coladas to the group at the far end of the pool bar. Tried not to listen to Lena going on about how Dante Creed had walked past the breakfast lounge and winked at her. Again.
But even she couldn’t deny it anymore—he was watching her.
It started small. A glance here. A smirk there. Maybe it was her imagination. But then came the morning he showed up at her bar. Alone.
She had just finished wiping down the counter when his shadow stretched across the wood.
“Morning,” came that smooth, low voice.
Isla looked up, heart tripping over itself.
Dante Creed in broad daylight was even more ridiculous than in her dreams. Black t-shirt that fit just right, navy slacks, and those piercing blue eyes hidden slightly behind designer sunglasses.
“Uh… good morning,” she said, blinking. “Can I get you something?”
He took off his shades and set them on the bar. His eyes met hers.
“I was hoping you’d offer a little more than just drinks,” he said, and then chuckled at her wide-eyed reaction. “Relax. I meant conversation. Unless you serve that on the menu too?”
Isla let out a breathy laugh, heat rushing to her cheeks. “Depends who’s asking.”
“Dante,” he said smoothly, stretching out his hand.
She stared at it for a second before slipping hers into his. His palm was warm, firm. A spark shot through her chest.
“Isla,” she replied, her voice almost shy.
His fingers lingered around hers just a second too long before letting go.
“Pretty name,” he murmured. “Pretty girl.”
She glanced away quickly, trying to hide the grin threatening to break across her face. Was this really happening? Was he actually flirting with her?
Dante ordered a whiskey, neat. Sat down. Started asking about the island. Her favorite parts of it. How long she’d worked here.
And she… she told him everything.
He listened. Or at least, he looked like he was listening. Nodding, smiling, asking follow-up questions. Complimenting her laugh. Noticing her eyes.
“Most girls on this island act like they’re trying to impress me,” he said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “But you… you’re just being you. I like that.”
Her stomach flipped.
This wasn’t like the usual flirts from drunk tourists or pushy rich guests. This felt different. Dante Creed was leaning into her space like he genuinely wanted to be there.
He came back the next day. And the day after.
Sometimes with his sunglasses, sometimes without. Always dressed like a man who knew his worth. Always making her feel like she was the only one he saw.
Lena was losing her mind.
“Girl, if he so much as breathes on you, get pregnant,” she whispered one morning behind the kitchen counter. “This is your golden ticket. This is your Cinderella moment. Do you even get how big this is?”
But Isla didn’t want to think like that. This wasn’t about money or status.
Dante made her laugh.
He asked about her dreams.
He said she was different.
He touched her arm sometimes when he talked, just briefly, but enough to make her skin tingle long after.
And the more he came around, the more she started to believe this was more than a fantasy.
That maybe… just maybe, he saw her.
“Let’s take a walk,” he said that afternoon.
Isla blinked. “Right now?”
He smiled. “Unless you’re scared.”
She rolled her eyes and untied her apron, tossing it under the bar. Her heart was beating like crazy, but she followed him.
They walked down the beach path, past the huts, toward the secluded end of the resort where the palms were thicker and the breeze stronger.
They talked. Laughed. He picked a flower and tucked it behind her ear, his fingers brushing her cheek.
Isla felt like she was floating.
He sat down on a flat rock near the water and patted the space beside him. She sat, nervous but thrilled.
“Do you believe in fate?” he asked suddenly.
She tilted her head. “I don’t know. Do you?”
Dante stared out at the ocean. “I believe some things are meant to be. Some people are meant to meet.”
Isla bit her lip, trying to keep from smiling too hard.
She didn’t see the way his mouth twisted for a second before he turned to her.
“You’re special, Isla. I can see it. You’re not like the rest.”
She looked away, shy. “You barely know me.”
“But I want to.”
Her heart soared.
For the first time in her life, she felt chosen.
Wanted.
Loved?
She shook the thought. Too soon. Too fast.
Still… why did it feel so real?
Later that evening, she was wiping down the bar again when she heard it.
Low voices.
Dante. Julian. Knox.
She wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. They didn’t know she was just behind the palm wall, arranging glasses. But their words floated clearly.
“She’s falling hard,” Julian chuckled.
“You’ve got her wrapped,” Knox added.
Then Dante’s voice, smooth and sharp:
“Told you I would.”
Isla froze.
Julian again: “So what now? You going to collect your win?”
Dante laughed. “Patience. The sweeter the fruit, the longer it takes to ripen.”
Isla slowly backed away, her heart thudding painfully.
What did that mean?
Was this a joke? A game?
No. No. It had to be something else. She had to be misunderstanding.
But their voices kept echoing in her head.
She’s falling hard. Got her wrapped. Collect your win.
She stumbled into the hallway, nearly knocking over a tray.
And then—she saw him.
Dante.
Smiling.
Walking toward her.
His eyes lit up when he saw her—or at least, pretended to.
“There you are,” he said. “I was just looking for you.”
Isla forced a smile, her stomach in knots.
“We should talk,” he added, stepping closer. “There’s something I want to ask you.”
- Writer
