We’re both covered in sand. Olive is so sleepy and beautiful, her eyelashes flutter as she wakes. She cuddles closer to me once she finds we’ve drifted apart in our sleep.

I let go of her and stretch my arms over my head, causing her to moan in protest.

It’s not that I want to be away from her. I’ve got something mischievous in mind. I clutch a handful of sand and try not to let too many grains escape. Then I raise my hand above her head and drop the sand into her hair before I tap her on the forehead, grinning.

“You’re a mess,” I tease her, my eyes scan her body, and I can still see all the kisses I left there last night. She blushes, like I’d hoped she would, and I run a hand down her neck. It isn’t even sexual. I just want to touch her, and I let her know it.

“I can’t believe you did that to me!” She bats my hand away with a smile, her voice rising. Then she picks up sand and throws it at me, and we’re play fighting, careful not to get sand in each other’s eyes.

“Whatever.” I flick her forehead. Fuck. I’m way too soft. But only with her. “More importantly,” I cough, changing the subject from my supposed inability to defend myself, as she says, “we need to figure out a way to get back to the house without being seen.”

It’s early morning now. The sun is up and people will be here, and there is no way I’m sticking my dick back in those sand-filled boxers now. I don’t expect Olive will want to put her clothes back on, either, not that she was wearing much in the first place. I reach out and grab one of her nipples, hard, and watch as sand falls from her skin.

“See,” I growl, feeling my cock getting hard again. “You’re a mess.”

She reacts to my touch immediately, squeezing her thighs together and reaching for me.

In my head I debate the wisdom of taking her again right here on the beach. On one hand it’s daylight and someone could come along and see us. On the other hand, I don’t give a fuck. Hell, it might be hot having someone watch while I claim Olive as mine. I do want to fuck her right now, but it’d probably embarrass Olive for strangers to see her impaled on my cock the way I’m imagining.

So I deny her, keeping distance enough as I tease her pussy with my thumb. She narrows her eyes, lusty and annoyed.

This woman is mine, and she knows it.

I cough again, pretending that I only care about getting back to the house. Truth is, I want to drive her wild, tease her until she’s begging me to fuck her harder than I ever have before. I want to rile her up and then deny her, drive her to the edge.

Definitely. Just not now.

The villa is a way’s up a hill from here, and I can see that we wound up a little farther away than I expected.

We head back, and almost right away, I lift Olive into my arms. I like feeling her there, and her feet are bare. Mine are, too, but Olive is smaller, softer, and I don’t want her to hit a rock and hurt herself. We decide to try to enter the house from a side door, and sneak back to our bedroom through the kitchen.

As soon as we turn the doorknob and step inside, I realize it’s a mistake.

“What the fu—”

“Axel!” Olive silences me with a hiss to keep me from swearing in front of Lark. But I can’t help it. The rest of the word slips out and gets caught in the palm of her hand as I stare at Barry.

My business manager.

“What are you doing here?” Shit.

I finish my sentence, realizing Lark is here, which is why Olive didn’t want me swearing. Olive and I skirt behind a table as Selena grabs Lark and whisks her out of the room, mumbling something about somebody giving her a warning next time.

I watch Lark as she leaves, hoping she hasn’t noticed her mother and I are less than completely dressed. It doesn’t seem like she has, and that’s good, but I don’t get why this guy is here bothering my family.

Except I know exactly why he’s here. I’ve run off from my job to be with them.

Gave no notice, no warning.

No fucks, basically, but I’m working on cleaning up my language since having Lark around.

Barry’s eyes linger too long on Olive, and I snarl at him. He looks away.

I gotta give Barry credit. He’s been there for me and helped me out with a lot of things. I’m pretty sure I have to thank him for most of my career. But he’s not helping now.

He raises his eyebrows, clearly amused and a little pissed off as well. “I’ll give you two a second to get dressed.” He turns his back, but doesn’t leave.

“Olive, go upstairs.” I nod to the staircase and pat on her back before she runs up the stairs.

I don’t care about being naked but so I don’t appear to be a savage, I grab a towel out of the adjoining laundry room and wrap it around my waist. When I return I perch on a white stool next to the table. “What are you doing here, Barry? Can’t you see I’m on vacation?”

“Nice to see you, too, Axel,” he says, grabbing a stool so he sits across from me.

“You’ve been ignoring our calls.”

“Our?” I say, raising an eyebrow and mocking him.

“Our,” he repeats, pulling out his phone and showing me all the calls he’s sent me. Ones I hadn’t even noticed. I’d only given Coach’s any merit.

“Mine. Parker’s. And …” He continues off a list of names of people and their petty bullshit, and I don’t listen until he pulls out an envelope. He throws it on the table and motions for me to open it.

I grimace at him, and push the envelope back with two fingers. “If there’s supposed to be bad news in there, you can just tell me. In fact,” I add, “I expect you to tell me.”

He shakes his head in disdain and rips it open. A stack of photos falls out onto the table, and he pushes these toward me.

“Are you going to look through these yourself? Or are you going to make me do it?”

“Now that you mention it, I think I’ll make you do it. Thanks,” I say through gritted teeth.

Christ, I’m an asshole. I’m more aware of it now that I’ve been around Olive and Lark.

He grins at me.

“That’s the stuff, kid,” he says. And for a second, I’m confused. Until he flips over the pictures.

“The media have been going crazy. This is what they have of you, so far. There’s this one, and this one, and …”

He spreads out lots of pictures on the table. Pictures of me and Olive. Pictures of me fighting Jason. News clippings that she’s my wife, and that we have a daughter together. There are photos of us landing in Santorini, and my eyes flash to the last photo as he holds it up, his face grim.

“And this,” he says, “Is probably the worst of all of them.”

I snatch the photo out of his hand.

“Wait a second. the fuck are you doing, Axel?”

The photo shows us wrapped together on the beach, from last night. But I hadn’t seen it in any magazines.

“I won’t send this to anyone if you come back, Axel,” he says.

So the bastard took it.

I clench my fists at my sides, not wanting to beat the shit out of my own business manager and ruin what I have with Olive and Lark here.

“This isn’t the life for you, Ax. You’re not ready to be a father,” he continues. “Hell, you’re only twenty-three. You have a bright future ahead of you, kid. You don’t love this girl as much as you think you do. You can take care of them from a distance, pay their way if you want, but you’ll find another one. You have a match coming up. Six days from now. We’ve got a flight at four to make it there in time for autographs and some damage control. Be there or I’m releasing the photo.”

He gets up, and I feel more sick than angry. I’ve got nothing to say in response.

He’s got me, and I’ve got to go back to my career.

Since when had Barry turned into such a heartless bastard? I remember him as kind. Cutthroat when wheeling and dealing, though. I’m just on the other side of the knife now.

“Think about it long and hard, Reign. But not too long. Be at the airport by three.”