GEMINI'S POV.
The morning unfolded exactly as Percy had planned: slow, luxurious, and focused entirely on relaxation. We ate fresh fruit and pastries on the terrace, soaking up the sunshine and the spectacular caldera view, feeling a million miles away from the real world and everything else.
After breakfast, we headed out. Percy, true to his word, rented a beautiful red ATV. I've only ever driven regular cars, so the ATV felt reckless and exhilarating. Percy, however, handled it like a professional racer, navigating the winding, narrow roads that cut across the island with ease.
"Hold tight, Bunny!" Percy shouted over the roar of the engine as we zoomed past whitewashed villages and vineyards.
I clung to his back, laughing, feeling the wind whip through my hair. It was such a visceral sense of freedom. Being pressed against him, feeling the solid heat of his body, was intoxicating. Every curve, every bump in the road, felt like a different kind of adventure.
We arrived at Perissa Beach, known for its unique volcanic black sand. It was stunning—the sand was almost midnight black, sharply contrasting with the turquoise water and the towering, reddish-brown rock of Mesa Vouno.
Percy found a quiet spot away from the main cluster of sunbeds. We spread out huge towels, and Percy immediately stripped down to his swim shorts.
"Race you to the water!" he challenged, already jogging toward the Aegean.
"Wait, the sand is hot!" I yelped, hopping across the scorching black sand before plunging into the cool water after him.
The water was crystal clear and refreshing. We spent a long time just floating, talking about silly things, and laughing about everything and nothing. It was a pure, simple connection.
Later, we lay side-by-side on the towels. I was mesmerized by the deep blackness of the sand.
"It's incredible how beautiful this is," I murmured, running a hand through the fine, dark grains. "It feels like another world."
Percy turned his head, resting his cheek on his arm, and looked at me. "It's different," he agreed. "But everything is better with you. Even work becomes interesting when I have you helping me."
"Don't talk about work," I groaned, throwing a handful of sand at his chest.
He laughed, a sound so genuine it melted away any lingering tension. He reached over, pulling me close until I was pressed into his side, shaded slightly by his imposing form. We spent the next hour like that, reading, napping, and just being—a quiet, intimate peace that felt earned.
As the afternoon wore on, we drove back, stopping briefly at a bakery for some Greek coffee and pastries before heading back to the villa to prepare for dinner. Our first full day of vacation was a total success.
Third Person's POV.
Meanwhile, back in the States, the atmosphere inside the Morre family mansion was anything but peaceful.
After returning from a long day of work last night, Penelope stayed at the family's mansion. She woke up late, enjoying the temporary quiet of the massive house. She pulled on a robe and headed downstairs, fully anticipating that the house would be empty except for the minimal staff.
She stopped short when she found her mother seated alone at the head of the immense mahogany dining table, sipping her morning tea with a face that looked carved from ice. Genevieve hadn't spoken more than ten necessary words to anyone since Phillip Sinclair had issued his ultimatum.
"Good morning, Mother," Penelope said, trying for a neutral tone as she walked toward the counter to grab a coffee mug.
"You look well-rested, darling," Genevieve observed coolly, without looking up from her tea. "Did everything go well with your work? I spoke with Sage, something about the photographer being difficult? Do you want me to look into it?"
Penelope stiffened, gripping her coffee mug tight. "Everything is great at work, Mother. And no, I don't need you to look into it. I enjoyed working with the new guy. He's just being a professional."
"Are you sure, darling? Because if he's being..."
"It's fine, Mother. Seriously! I've worked with more difficult photographers than him. I'll be fine," she cut her mother off, unwilling to let her mother wade into her personal life, especially not with Harlow Langford.
Penelope knew Sage Pembroke, her mother's PA, had eyes and ears as sharp as a tack. Sage must have noticed the tension between Penelope and the new photographer and reported it.
Harlow Langford, a renowned photographer known for his skills and charisma, was, until last week, just that. It wasn't planned. Penelope was out of town, and after she was done with work, she had a few drinks with some models at a club and ended up sleeping with him, only to show up for a shoot appointment yesterday and discover he was the new photographer for Morre Holdings—and the very guy who had been blowing up her phone.
It was awkward for sure.
Harlow Langford didn't seem like the kind of man to give up without a fight.
Genevieve finally set down her teacup, the clink echoing sharply in the silent room. Her gaze—cold, analytical, and utterly unforgiving—pinned Penelope in place as she sat down opposite her mother.
"Penelope. You know what I really want to know," Genevieve stated, her voice tight. "Where is your brother? His phone is off, and he has not responded to any of my routine check-in emails. I require an update on his whereabouts."
Penelope sipped her coffee slowly, taking her time to measure her response. She met her mother's gaze, unwilling to fold.
"Percy is exactly where he should be, Mother," Penelope replied calmly. "He is taking the vacation he earned. He's completely unreachable and uninterested in anything related to the outside world for the next two weeks. Alexis has full control regarding work. You can direct all your work or personal inquiries to us."
Genevieve's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Unreachable? He knows I dislike surprises, Penelope. He's with him, isn't he? Tell me where he is. I need to know his movements."
Penelope took another long, deliberate sip of coffee, savoring the moment of defiance.
"No, sorry mother, I won't tell you," Penelope said, finally stating the hard truth. "He is free to go wherever he wants, with whomever he wants, and he deserves privacy. If you want to know his movements, you should try being his mother instead of his rival."
The silence that followed was electric, broken only by the steady drip of the coffeemaker. Penelope knew she had just signed her own temporary death warrant, but the triumphant look on her face was worth it. She was protecting her brother's peace.