And then there was Damien.
He wore a navy blue polo shirt, buttons casually open halfway to expose a teasing glimpse of his chest, the sleeves rolled just enough to show off those strong forearms. His swim shorts were navy and white stripes—clean, sharp, classic. Sunglasses hung in one hand. His jaw tightened for a heartbeat, a subtle clench that only the sharpest eyes would catch. Then his expression went unreadable again, and his hair was swept back in one effortless motion, like it had no choice but to obey.
Not long after, the elevator dinged—and all eyes turned.
The doors slid open, and out walked two women.
Harper led the way, vibrant and unapologetically bold. Her mustard-yellow bikini popped against her golden skin, perfectly matched with a breezy linen button-down and loose sh
