Chapter 38 38.
Chapter 38 38.
Chapter 38: Ashley’s POV
Island hopping sounded like a perfect plan.
The keyword here being sounded.
Because exactly twenty minutes into the chaotic flurry of everyone packing sunscreen and bikinis, my universe tilted. I suddenly felt dizzy.
Not the dramatic, swooning-into-someone's-arms kind of dizzy. Just a sudden, heavy vertigo that forced me to drop onto the nearest chair before my pride and gravity had a violent disagreement.
Naturally—everyone lost their minds.
Mia looked two seconds away from calling an international airlift. Nadine abandoned her beach bag like it was radioactive. Troy was already furiously tapping on his phone, undoubtedly Googling symptoms that would tell him I had some rare tropical disease.
Which, honestly, made the room spin faster.
"I'm fine," I insisted, rubbing my temples for the tenth time.
"You don't look fine," Mia shot back, her voice laced with panic.
"I am pregnant, Mia, not made of glass."
"That is exactly what a pregnant woman made of glass would say."
I stared at her. Betrayed. Completely betrayed.
Within minutes, the executive decision was made—island hopping was canceled. For everyone. Because apparently, leaving me alone for a few hours was equivalent to leaving a toddler unattended by a pool. It was ridiculous. I was literally just tired.
"Ashley," Mia said in full force. "We can go tomorrow. It's fine."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
I pointed a dramatic, trembling finger toward the villa door. "Go enjoy your vacation. I am ordering you to leave."
Troy crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. "What if you need something?"
"I'll text."
"What if you faint?"
"I won't."
"What if—"
"Troy."
He shut his mouth. A genuine miracle.
The argument circled for another five grueling minutes until a deep, smooth voice cut through the noise.
"You should all go."
Everyone turned.
Marcus. Of course.
He was leaning against the villa entrance, one hand tucked casually into his pocket, looking annoyingly calm while the rest of us were sweating from stress.
"I'll stay."
Instantly, the room went dead silent.
Steve looked suspicious.
Vanessa looked suspicious.
I looked highly suspicious.
Marcus, however, remained entirely unbothered by the sudden interrogation-room vibe. "I have a conference call to take anyway."
Liar. Such a beautiful, blatant liar.
This was Amanpulo. Ever since our feet touched the sand, he had barely glanced at his phone unless it was absolutely necessary.
Steve narrowed his eyes, tracking Marcus's relaxed posture. "What meeting?"
Marcus met his gaze, unblinking. "A meeting."
Steve’s eyes narrowed into slits.
Meanwhile, my heart did a weird, unauthorized little flutter. I knew exactly what he was doing. He was using work as a shield. It was a classic, frustratingly Marcus Bryson excuse. Because admitting out loud that he actually wanted to stay behind and make sure I was okay? That would probably cause him actual, physical pain.
Eventually, after a ridiculous amount of negotiating, the group finally relented.
Though definitely not happily.
Mia rattled off approximately seventeen emergency instructions. Nadine threatened to video-call me every hour on the hour. Troy looked like he was abandoning his firstborn child at a shady summer camp.
Exhausting. Absolutely exhausting people.
The moment the front door finally clicked shut, the villa plunged into a heavy, suffocating silence.
Just me. And Marcus.
Wonderful.
Trying to ignore the sudden awkwardness thick enough to cut with a knife, I dragged myself out to the outdoor sofa. I curled my legs up, looking out over the pristine, turquoise ocean, determined to pretend he didn't exist.
For several long minutes, neither of us spoke.
The waves rolled gently toward the shore, a steady, hypnotic rhythm. The afternoon breeze rustled softly through the palm trees. And somehow... the silence shifted. It stopped being suffocating and started feeling oddly, dangerously comfortable.
A shadow fell over me.
I looked up to find Marcus standing there, holding a tall, condensation-beaded glass of ice water. He handed it down to me without a word.
I took it slowly, my fingers brushing against his. A tiny spark of electricity shot up my arm, and I quickly pulled back, gripping the cold glass.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
I took a sip, watching him over the rim. "You know your meeting excuse wasn't even remotely convincing, right?"
Marcus didn't answer right away. Instead, he claimed the lounge chair across from me, his long legs stretching out. "It wasn't an excuse."
"It absolutely was."
He looked at me, those dark, unreadable eyes locking onto mine. "It was partially an excuse."
I blinked.
Well. That level of honesty was completely unexpected.
A faint, involuntary smile tugged at the corner of my lips. "Why stay, Marcus?"
He averted his gaze, looking out toward the horizon where the blue sky met the sea. His jaw tightened slightly before he spoke.
"You weren't feeling well."
Simple. Direct. No corporate deflection, no elaborate explanation.
And somehow... those four quiet words made my chest ache with a sudden, terrifying warmth.
I took a slow sip of the water, deliberately keeping my eyes glued to the horizon. Anywhere but at him.
Because apparently, a thoughtful Marcus Bryson was significantly more dangerous than an annoying one. Annoying Marcus I could handle. This version? This version was doing weird things to my pulse.
The silence stretched between us again, but this time, it felt soft. Comfortable.
Then, because the universe clearly hated me and refused to let me have peace, Marcus broke it.
"You should probably rest."
My head snapped toward him, the heavy silence instantly shattering. "Wow."
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"You actually stayed behind to babysit me."
He looked entirely unimpressed, leaning back against his chair. "I am not babysitting you."
"You brought me water," I countered, gesturing with the glass.
"You were dizzy."
"You sound like a concerned husband."
The words slipped out before my brain could stage a coup.
Silence.
Immediate, suffocating, horrifying silence.
Oh my god.
I froze, the glass halfway to my mouth, my blood turning to literal ice. Did I actually just say that out loud? To him?
In that exact second, I wanted nothing more than for the patio to open up and swallow me whole. Or better yet, I could just throw myself off the deck and into the ocean. Let the sharks take me. It would be less embarrassing than this.
Marcus didn't blink. He simply stared at me, his dark eyes unreadable, tracking the sudden, furious blush that I knew was traveling up my neck.
"You're getting stranger by the day, Ashley."
He deflected. But his jaw was tight, and there was a subtle, blink-and-you'll-miss-it shift in his posture.
I blinked, my panic momentarily paused by sheer fascination. Because somehow, against all known laws of physics... that was the closest thing to embarrassment I had ever seen from the great Marcus Bryson.
And suddenly, the air between us felt a whole lot warmer.