E L L A R A

The path to Adrian’s villa is too quiet.

Salt clings to the night air, heavy with humidity and secrets. Lantern lights flicker along the boardwalk, casting gold halos on the pavement, but up here, past the private gate and the sharp turnoff from the clinic trail everything goes dark. No cameras. No guests. Just jungle hush and the sound of my footsteps crunching gravel.

I shouldn’t be here.

This isn’t protocol. There are a dozen safer ways to debrief about the sabotage like encrypted emails, closed-door meetings, and a quiet note slipped to Ethan.

But I’m not thinking like a doctor right now. I’m thinking like a woman who felt someone peel back the pulse of her clinic, hollow out her arsenal, and leave her vulnerable. Like someone who needs answers before morning.

And maybe, stupidly, like someone who wants to see him again before reason kicks back in.

I raise my hand to knock.

The door swings open before I touch it.

Adrian stands barefoot on the threshold, a black tee clinging to his chest like sin. His hair is damp. He holds a glass in one hand, a tablet in the other, but it’s the look in his eyes that stops me cold, he’s focused, unreadable, like he expected me.

“Elara,” he says, stepping back so I can enter. “You didn’t text.”

“I didn’t decide until halfway here.”

“You brought notes?”

I lift the folder in my hand. “Badge logs. Drawer access history. Supply run records. And a backup emergency order I’m placing in the morning.”

“Good.” His voice is low, steady. “I’ve got whiskey and green tea. Pick your poison.”

I step inside, trying not to breathe too deeply. His villa smells like clean linen, citrus peel, and something warm underneath like cedar or sandalwood, maybe. His kitchen is sleek and sunlit in the day, but now it glows soft amber under dim pendant lights. There’s a mango half-sliced on the marble island. A knife rests beside it, glistening with juice.

“You cook?” I ask, more surprised than I mean to sound.

“I cut fruit,” he says dryly. “It’s the illusion of domesticity.”

“Convincing.” I set my folder on the counter, close enough that our hands almost brush.

I flip open the folder and slide it between us. “These are the badge logs for the past five days. Asha’s checked out. Luis was off-shift. That leaves someone bypassing the cold vault code, or slipping in under someone else’s credentials.”

Adrian scans the page, eyes narrowing. “This drawer had the only fresh antivenom?”

“Yes. It was full on Monday. Now it’s empty.” I met his gaze. “That’s not an accident.”

“No.” He leans against the counter, his thigh brushing mine. “It’s calculated.”

My jaw tenses. “Who the hell gambles with someone’s life over optics?”

“Someone who wants headlines. Or leverage.” He taps the page. “If you’d used that vial on a real sting victim…”

“They’d be dead,” I finished. My stomach churns. “And I’d be the scapegoat.”

He looks at me for a long moment. “They’re targeting you because you threaten them.”

“Or because I don’t belong here,” I mutter. “A mainland doctor in a luxury resort. It’s too easy to paint me as reckless.”

His voice sharpens. “Don’t.”

I glance up.

“You belong,” he says simply. “You’re the reason this place isn’t a headline already.”

The words hit harder than I expected. I blink fast, trying not to let it show.

“I don’t know who to trust,” I admit. “If this was staff, if someone was on my team…”

“Then we find out,” he says. “Together.”

My breath catches. His fingers brush mine when he reaches for the tablet. The contact is brief, accidental, maybe but the jolt is instant. Awareness coils low in my belly. I step back.

But the kitchen isn’t big enough.

He watches me like he’s measuring how far I’ll run.

“Unless there’s something else?” he asks, voice careful.

There is. Too much.

I shake my head, but I don’t move.

And neither does he.

“You’re still on edge,” Adrian says, voice low.

“No shit,” I snapped before I could stop myself. “Someone emptied my antivenom drawer. If that kid in the south cove gets stung tomorrow..”

“They won’t.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I can promise you won’t face it alone.”

That’s the problem. I want to believe him.

I cross my arms, pacing to the far end of the island. “Do you even get how this feels? I built that supply list from the ground up. I cataloged every dose, every line. I told your board I could make this clinic safe. And now it’s compromised. From inside.”

He stays quiet.

“That drawer was my control,” I whisper. “My proof that this wasn’t just a vacation gig. That I was useful. And now it’s just..”

“Gone,” he finishes gently.

I nod. Swallow hard.

He steps closer. “You’re not here because you’re useful, Elara. You’re here because you’re irreplaceable.”

I shake my head. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.”

“I do.” His hand lifts, pauses, then lands on the counter beside my hip. Not touching. Just anchoring us there.

My chest tightens. “I don’t need comfort.”

“I’m not offering comfort.”

His voice is heat and steel and something I’m terrified to name.

“What are you offering?” I ask.

His mouth curves, slow and dangerous. “You already know.”

I should walk away.

But his voice, the way it threads heat through my spine roots me in place.

I glance down. His fingers are still braced on the counter beside me, inches from my hips. One step closer and I’d be flush against him.

“Say it again,” I whisper. “That I’m not replaceable.”

His breath catches. Then he does it, steps in, closing that inch. His thigh brushes mine. His other hand lifts to my jaw, slow, deliberate, as if waiting for me to pull back.

I don’t.

“You’re not replaceable,” he murmurs. “You’re mine.”

I snap.

I grab his shirt, yank him in. Our mouths crash, no pretense, no finesse just teeth and breath and hunger. He groans into the kiss, his hand sliding around my waist, gripping tight. I open for him, reckless, desperate, tongue meeting him in a wet tangle.

He breaks the kiss with a curse. “Counter. Now.”

I’m already turning.

His hands grip my hips and lift me onto the cool marble, dragging me forward until I’m perched right on the edge, knees falling open.

His mouth finds my neck, hot, open-mouthed kisses that bruise and burn. I gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders as he sucks just beneath my ear, then trails down to my collarbone.

“Off,” he growls, tugging at my tank.

I raise my arms, and he strips it clean off. His eyes darken as they rake over me, bare-chested, breathing hard.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Look at you.”

Then his mouth is on my breast, sucking hard. His tongue circles my nipple, then flicks, relentless. My back arches. I cry out.

“Adrian..”

“Tell me to stop,” he says, voice wrecked. “Or I’m going to ruin you for anyone else.”

“I’m not stopping,” I breathe.

He drops to his knees.

One hand pins my thigh wide; the other yanks my shorts and panties down in one motion. Cool air hits me. Then his mouth does.

“Oh my! fuck..!”

He groans like I taste exactly how he imagined. His tongue is firm, fast, filthy, flicking, licking, sucking my clit until I shake.

“God..! Adrian..! ” I grip his hair, hips jerking. He holds me down, relentlessly.

He slides a finger inside me. Then two.

“Jesus,” I sob. “Right there, yes..”

He curls them just right, tongue circling in time, and I shatter, hard, fast, obscene.

I come with a scream, back bowing, thighs clenching around his head.

But he doesn’t stop.

“Too much,” I gasp. “I.. fuck..!”

He sucks harder. My body bucks again, another orgasm crashes through me before the first has faded.

I collapse against the cabinets, panting, spent.

Adrian stands. His mouth is slick with me. His eyes, molten.

“You’re a fucking drug,” he growls.

He kisses me again, deep, dirty and I taste myself on his tongue.

My hands fumble at his waistband, desperate, but..

Adrian’s phone buzzes. He curses, checks the screen.

 “It’s Ethan.” I’m still catching my breath, flushed and shaky, my tank barely back on. He answers, voice tight.

 “What?” A beat. His face goes cold. 

“I’m coming.” He hangs up, turns to me. 

“There’s a message. You need to see it.” A moment later, he hands me his tablet.

A message glows, black and white. No signature. No formatting. Just two lines.

LEAVE BEFORE LANTERN TIDE.
OR ELSE.