Page 7 of Billionaire's Fantasy
As if conjured by the devil, my phone chimes with a notification. I slip my phone out of my pocket and find an email notification. It’s from Daniel Scott, Amber’s dad.
He is checking in, making sure we landed on time. That’s the first part of the email. The second part is a reminder that I need to keep an eye on his only child.
As I said, she is a spoiled little rich girl. Unlike me, she never had to work to be wealthy. I worked hard for my wealth.
I email him back, telling him that we successfully checked into the Sands Resort for the night, then I strip off all my clothes and jump in my shower for a cold rinse.
I quickly change into a pair of khaki cargo shorts and a gray Henley shirt. The material is rugged and feels durable, perfect for a night out at the bar. The shorts fit snugly on my waist, and the shirt hugs my biceps just right. I add a pair of brown leather sandals to complete the look.
I need a beer or two to cool off, and then maybe we can grab dinner.
I am just about to call Olivia, when she struts from the room two doors down, looking comfortable in a green jumpsuit.
“Ready?” I ask her.
“As I will ever be.”
I smirk at her and lead her toward the bar.
I make my way over to the bar and order two cold beers for Olivia and me. I can feel the sweat on my forehead starting to dissipate as the cool beverage hits my tongue. How is this place so hot? I just took a shower for God’s sake.
I take a deep breath and take in the sights and sounds of the bar. The music is loud and lively, with a mix of island beats and pop hits. The dim lighting casts a romantic glow on the patrons, and I can see couples cuddling up in the corners.
“Not going to lie, Jackson, I am not upset about this job at all.”
“That makes one of us,” I tell her.
I am just about to make another comment when I spot her.
Amber.
Like a siren, all my attention is now drawn to her. And for some reason, all thoughts come tumbling out of my head.
She looks stunning in her bohemian outfit—a flowing maxi dress with bold, colorful patterns that hug her curves in all the right places. Her hair is styled in loose, beachy waves, and she’s wearing a pair of delicate gold hoop earrings.
She is so fucking gorgeous. I groan at the sight.
I am about to alert Olivia that our client is here with us—for God knows what reason—when something catches my eye.
Amber’s movements are off. Something is definitely wrong. She is not the same easy-going girl who walked into my plane a couple of hours ago. She seems distracted. She is trying to take pictures of her drink, something pink, with an umbrella on it. The bartender keeps talking to her, but she looks irritated and annoyed.
I debate whether to step in and help her out, but something tells me to stay out of it.
After the last scene we had, it is probably best to stay out of her way. I did promise myself I would do that, anyway.
Plus, maybe she just needs some space. I turn my attention back to my beer and let her be, but I still keep an eye out, just in case.
Just then, Olivia interrupts my thoughts, announcing that she’s going swimming.
“We just sat down, Liv.”
“I know,” she responds. “We aren’t staying here long so I am going to make the most of it.” She picks up her beer, ruffles my hair, and walks away.
I’m not in the mood for a swim, so I decide to head back to my room and order room service. The thought of a quiet, peaceful evening in my room sounds like just what I need.
As I walk back to my room, I can feel the warm Caribbean breeze blowing against my skin. The resort is bustling with activity, with people walking around. I can hear the sounds of laughter and chatter all around me, creating a festive and lively atmosphere.
When I reach my room, I order room service and take a seat on the balcony. From here, I can see the resort’s pool, which is bustling with people. Couples are lounging on the sunbeds, kids splashing in the water, and families playing games.
