Zoe's POV
Zoe hasn't slept.
She's been awake since Marcus texted "Always" and she realized she's in serious trouble. The kind of trouble that doesn't have a simple solution. The kind where her heart is already committed to something her brain knows is temporary.
She comes down to the terrace for breakfast and tries to look normal. Tries to pretend she didn't spend three hours staring at his text message. Tries to act like she doesn't remember exactly how his shoulder felt against hers in the doorway last night.
Marcus is already there waiting. He's wearing casual clothes today. Jeans. A linen shirt. He looks less like a billionaire and more like the boy she used to know. His dark hair is messy. His green eyes are soft.
"Hey," he says when he sees her. "Sleep okay?"
Liar. He knows she didn't sleep. She knows he didn't either because his eyes are heavy the same way hers are.
"Yeah, fine," she says anyway. "You?"
"Fine."
They sit across from each other at a table overlooking the ocean and pretend they didn't text in the middle of the night. Pretend there's nothing happening between them except a business arrangement.
Marcus finishes his coffee. Then he asks, "Want to walk the beach before the afternoon events?"
It should feel like obligation. Should feel like part of the performance. But it doesn't. It feels like a real question. Like he's asking because he wants to be alone with her, not because they have an audience to convince.
"Yeah," Zoe says. "I'd like that."
They leave their shoes by the terrace and walk barefoot in the sand.
The beach is mostly empty this time of morning. Just a few joggers in the distance. Just the sound of waves and their footsteps and the rhythm of breathing. It feels like they're the only two people in the world.
Marcus walks close to her. Close enough that their hands brush sometimes. Each time it happens, electricity shoots through her.
"Tell me about your art," he says quietly. "What do you paint?"
Zoe hasn't talked about her paintings with anyone in a long time. Haven't had anyone interested enough to ask.
"Mostly people," she says carefully. "I paint people in their everyday moments. Waiting for the bus. Eating lunch alone. Working. Trying to figure out how to be human in a world that doesn't really care if they survive."
Marcus listens like she's telling him something important. Like every word matters.
"I also paint memories," Zoe continues, her voice getting softer. "Moments that mattered. My mom braiding my hair. My best friend making me laugh. Things that slip away if you don't capture them."
"That's beautiful," Marcus says, and he sounds like he means it.
"You haven't even seen my work," Zoe points out.
"I don't need to. I can hear it in how you talk about it. Can feel how much it matters to you. That's where real talent comes from. From passion."
They walk further down the beach and Marcus asks what her dreams are.
Zoe hasn't let herself dream in so long. Dreams are a luxury for people who have time and money and stability. But something about Marcus asking makes her want to tell him anyway.
"I want to open a gallery," she says quietly. "A real gallery. Show artists who don't have connections or money or privilege. Give them a space to be seen. To be valued." She pauses. "And I want to teach. Work with kids from neighborhoods like the one we grew up in. Teach them that art matters. That their voices matter. That they don't have to wait until they're rich to create something beautiful."
Marcus stops walking.
"You should do it," he says simply.
"Do what? Marcus, I'm living paycheck to paycheck. I can't afford to open a gallery."
"You're talented enough." He turns to face her and there's certainty in his expression. "And you're driven enough. You'll figure it out."
How can he be so sure? He's never seen her paintings. Never seen her work. But the confidence in his voice makes her want to believe it. Makes her want to believe that maybe she could actually do something that matters instead of just surviving.
They find a quiet spot away from the main beach and sit in the sand watching the waves.
Marcus's shoulder brushes against hers.
Neither of them moves away.
Zoe sits there with her shoulder touching his and realizes this is the most real moment she's had with him. Not the dancing at the gala. Not the performance for investors. Just this. Two people sitting in the sand being honest with each other.
"Can I ask you something?" Zoe says quietly.
"Anything."
"Do you ever wish your life was different?"
Marcus goes very still beside her.
For a long moment he doesn't answer. Just stares out at the ocean like the answer is written somewhere in the waves.
Then he turns to look at her and the intensity in his eyes steals her breath.
"Every single day," he says.
The weight of those words hangs between them like something alive and dangerous.
Zoe's heart is hammering against her ribs.
"What would you change?" she asks, and she's not sure she wants to know the answer.
Marcus reaches over and tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. His fingers linger against her cheek for just a second.
"Everything," he whispers. "And nothing. It depends on the moment."
"Marcus, what does that mean?"
He doesn't answer. Just looks at her like he's trying to memorize her face. Like this moment matters more than anything else in the world.
"I need to tell you something," Marcus says, and his voice is rough. "Before we go any further with this weekend. Before things get more complicated."
Zoe's entire body tenses.
This is it. This is the moment where he tells her something that's going to change everything. Something that's going to make her understand why he really hired her. Why he's looking at her like she's his entire world.
"What?" she breathes.
But then someone calls out from the resort.
"Marcus! Zoe! The investors are ready for the noon event!"
The moment shatters.
Marcus closes his eyes like he's trying not to scream. He stands up and offers her his hand to help her up.
The spell is broken. The beach is no longer just theirs. The world is back and the performance has to resume.
As they walk back toward the resort, Marcus keeps holding her hand. And Zoe realizes with absolute certainty that whatever he was about to tell her is something that's going to destroy her.
Because based on the way he's looking at her, it's not something small.
It's something enormous.
It's something that's going to make her question everything about this weekend and his motives and whether any of it could possibly be real.