Darby Sullivan, the new doctor on the island, is quite the looker with gorgeous hair—I could do magic with a little layering—and sparkling green eyes.
She’s telling June and me—Evangeline and Misty excused themselves a few minutes earlier—about her family practice in Miami when June walks away while Darby is in the middle of a sentence.
Darby pauses, blinking after her. “Was it something I said?”
“Honestly, I have no idea.”
June’s an odd bird. Sure, we’ve had our fun. Shocking how good she is at licking pussy. But something about her doesn’t quite add up, and I can’t put my finger on it.
It’s like she’s not real.
Then again, who am I to talk?
I’ve spent years perfecting the art of reinvention. A charming smile, a perfectly tousled head of my black-and-blue hair, a laugh that sounds just the right amount ofcarefree. I play the part of the ambitious hairstylist, the woman who wants a taste of the high life, who’s ready to secure a billionaire husband and upgrade her existence. And most people believe it.
Because the truth? No one would understand.
When Sebastian asked me about my viper tattoo, I told him I was an open book…except for the tattoo.
I don’t talk about it. So don’t ever ask me about it again. That’s all I’m going to say on the matter. I don’t need to hear an apology, or an “I didn’t know,” or a “You can tell me anything, baby, and I’ll understand.” Because trust me. You won’t understand.
And he won’t.
As for an open book…
The truth is far more complex.
Sure, Heather Hill is an open book.
But Heather Hill is a damned illusion.
The hairstylist from Pasadena, the woman who followed Sebastian Tate all over Europe…
Sure, she exists, but?—
“I’m not sure why I’m even here,” Darby is saying, interrupting my thoughts. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a healthier group of people. Is everyone here good-looking?”
I laugh. “It’s a matchmaking event with billionaires who are all freaking gorgeous. And you’re beautiful yourself.”
She takes a sip of her drink. “I’m just here to do a job. I mean, when I got a call from Evangeline saying I could have an all-expenses-paid trip to a private tropical island in exchange for putting Band-Aids on boo-boos, it was a no-brainer.”
She has no idea.
This island isn’t just about billionaire pairings and luxury.It’s a game, a battlefield where people like me fight to carve out a place in a world that isn’t ours.
“I thought you told Sebastian you were going to get settled,” I say to her.
“I did. And I was. But I got sidetracked on the way up to my suite and ended up back here. I couldn’t resist one of these mimosas.” She takes another sip.
I’m about to reply when a familiar presence brushes past me—Sebastian.
He’s back. Probably ready to show Darby around.
I don’t turn, but I feel the heat of him, his closeness. He lingers for just a second too long, like he wants to say something—to me or to Darby?—but he doesn’t.
Then he’s gone.
He strides across the deck toward the bar, his jaw tight, his shoulders squared. As much fun as it’s been fooling around with some of the others, I’ve had the best fucks with Sebastian.
