The Heat Between us

CHAPTER 1

The Offer

Seraphina 's POV

"Are you for real now? That isn't possible."

I gazed at my phone's email as if it were a joke. A contract for luxury yoga. A month. Caribbean island. No interviews, complete accommodations. All I have to sign is a contract and a plane ticket.

It was too silky. Too quickly. Too... flawless.

Zuri, my best friend, was sitting on the floor of my living room drinking wine when she glanced over my shoulder. "Private island resort is what it says. It sounds like the sort of place where people in gold bikinis are paid to teach downward dogs.

I chuckled, but my spine felt uncomfortably cold. They didn't request a video at all. or a portfolio. Who employs someone without first speaking with them?

"Someone who has already witnessed your abilities." Zuri's eyebrows went up. "Are you certain that this isn't one of your former partners attempting to woo you back with phony professionalism and palm trees?"

My heart skipped a beat at that thought, and not in a good way.

I clicked on the resort's name once more. *Cielo Azul Spa & Retreat*. A brief search revealed that it was real, even though I had never heard of it before. Beautiful. exclusive. Somewhere between temptation and the Virgin Islands.

I pressed my mouth shut. Someone named *Samantha Keys*, the hiring director, made the offer. However, the message was brief. Hardly personal. Enough to be alluring.

I put my phone down and whispered, "Even if it's real, it's not like I'm fleeing anything." My life is going well.

Zuri gave a snort. The roof of your studio is leaking. Only when it feels like it will start your car. Additionally, the last guy you kissed believed that "chakras" were a kind of smoothie.

With a sigh, I reclined on the couch and allowed the quiet to envelop us.

However, the name *Cielo Azul* continued to reverberate in my head despite the silence.

I had a printed contract, a duffel bag, and a hundred Zuri warnings buzzing in my head when I boarded a plane two days later. A driver from the resort had come to pick me up directly from the tiny private airport. Everything went smoothly. Too silky.

I made an effort to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. As soon as I got off the plane, the Caribbean sun hit my skin. It tasted like freedom and was soft and warm.

Palm trees and shimmering water filled the drive up to the resort. People would go there to either vanish or be reborn.

The driver said, "Miss Hart," as we arrived at an open gate. "Greetings from Cielo Azul."

The structure was made entirely of wood and white stone, and it was encircled by expansive, open areas and lush gardens that had a coconut and sea salt scent. At the door, a young woman with short black curls greeted me with a big smile on her face and a clipboard.

"You mean Seraphina? My name is Malia. Villa Eight is where you are. private, remote, with a view of the ocean. It's going to be fantastic.

I trailed after her along a meandering bamboo and flower-filled path. With its open walls, dim lighting, and a bed large enough to drown in, the villa exceeded my expectations.

I whispered, "This place is... unreal."

Malia smiled. "In the villa, you have your schedule. Tomorrow morning is your first day of classes. Everything is already in place for you.

After giving me a key, she started to walk away but stopped. "Oh—and the proprietor is present." You may run into him.

"The proprietor?"

This time, her smile was softer. "When you see him, you'll recognize him.

I entered the villa's spacious shower later that night in an attempt to let the hot water relieve the tension and heat that was building up inside of me.

It had been a long day—a new place, new people, and the subtle hum of something unsaid beneath my skin. I closed my eyes and allowed the steam to curl around my body like a lover's touch as the water ran down my back. I was already in pain as my fingers moved over the curve of my shoulder and then down and lower. This shouldn't be how I feel. Not in this place. Not right now.

However, I did.

With every second that went by, my heart pounded more forcefully as I leaned against the tile and breathed through my lips. Slowly, I lowered my hand to rest where I most needed it. I had sensitive skin. The steam. The warmth. the silence. Everything fueled the fire that was burning inside of me.

My hands weren't the hands I pictured. lips with a precise sense of pressure. The sound of a deep, gravelly voice whispering my name the way he once did

No. My chest rose and fell quickly as I swallowed forcefully and withdrew my hand.

Not him.

Wearing the heavy white robe, I walked out and paced the room to the open balcony. Orange and pink hues painted the sky, while the ocean below roared softly. My body continued to tingle as I waited for an impending event.

But I felt it—that slow, heavy awareness—as I stood there, trying to clear my head. As if I were being watched.

My eyes slid toward the beach below, down the cliffside path.

Standing at the water's edge was a man. By themselves. Without a shirt. constructed as though I had buried a memory.

his shoulders. that position. that existence.

Just long enough for my breath to catch in my throat, the sunset briefly illuminated his face.

No. It isn't possible.

However, it was.

Williams Black.

My heart pounded. My hands were shaking.

He was present.

The man who didn't say anything to me.

Without ever touching me, the man broke me.

He was observing me from the shore now, as if he knew I would arrive.

Before I could stop them, my feet started to move.

With my robe sticking to my wet skin and my heart racing, I stepped out onto the edge of the balcony. Williams was still standing. Every inch of him was as strong and menacing as I remembered, bare-chested, dark, and sculpted, as if he were a part of the sea.

His head c****d slightly.

He saw me.

I could feel the pull, hot, sharp, and irrefutable even at this distance.

His eyes met mine as before, filled with answers he never provided and questions he had never dared to ask.

I opened my mouth. I felt my chest heave.

Then he grinned.

The soft kind wasn't it. When he realized he still had me, he wore the cocky kind.

With my chest burning, I stumbled back inside. No. I wouldn't allow him to triumph once more.

However, as I turned my back on the balcony...

I let out a gasp.

He stood in the doorway of my house.

dripping wet. Not invited. and grinning sinfully.

He saw her more than once. He trailed after her.