A gaze that felt like a physical touch.

I turned toward the infinity pool and locked eyes with him.

Damon.

Liam’s uncle. Slightly older — early forties, I guessed. A billionaire who apparently owned half this island and had flown in from Monaco that morning. He was tall, commanding, dressed in a perfectly tailored black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing strong forearms and an expensive watch. His dark hair had the faintest touch of silver at the temples, and his sharp jaw was clean-shaven.

He wasn’t looking at me the way Liam did.

He was staring.

His eyes moved slowly, deliberately, over every curve of my body —...