The company retreat was held in a sprawling beach villa two hours outside the city — a sleek, glass-walled escape nestled along the Atlantic coast. Layla barely had time to pack before she was shoved onto a shuttle bus with other junior staff, all of them buzzing with excitement. She, however, felt nothing but nerves.
Because she knew he would be there.
And so would his wife.
From the moment she stepped off the bus, Layla sensed something was different. The air was humid with salt and heat, but it wasn’t just the ocean that made her skin feel tight. Dorian’s eyes met hers the second she walked through the villa doors, a brief flicker, like a match struck in darkness. He said nothing. He didn’t need to.
He was wearing black linen. Relaxed. Hands in pockets. Watching her like a decision
