Corporate Rule Number Two: When faced with a confrontation, it is better to take a breath and step back than make a rash decision.
She ran away, leaving him on the beach with his hand stretched out to her.
Chapter Eighteen
Wyatt
Wyatt stared after the woman he loved running from him and out into the darkness. He knew he should chase after her, but his feet refused to move. It was like they were stuck in the sand, held by invisible magnets that wouldn't let him go.
“Stupid, stupid.” He dropped his head in shame. He'd been overzealous. He hadn't sold it well. He'd messed up the timing, and now it was all screwed up. He always waited for the right moment, but this time he hadn't. This time, he'd screwed things up because he hadn't read the situation correctly.
He wouldn't do that again. Wyatt sat down in the sand and looked out at the dark water, trying to figure out what to do next.
He needed to go up to her room and apologize. She was only here for one more night, and he didn't want to spend it apart.
He also needed to tell her who he was. He couldn't blame her for running. By all appearances, he was a beach bum with barely a job. It wasn't exactly an exciting prospect to leave her life and career to go live out of a shack on the beach.
He sighed. She was right to ask him to go to Arizona. But he knew that if he stepped foot in any major city, there would be reporters on him. He was the missing billionaire. Even now, he'd see the occasional news story on him and how he'd disappeared. If anyone saw him, he was a headline story just because he was trying to stay hidden. He'd tried once before to sneak back to New York to sign some papers, and he'd been mobbed at the airport.
He shuddered with the memory. He'd left the life of lights and money behind for a reason. He loved his new, simple life. There was no pressure to perform here. No threats, no bodyguards, no worries, because on this island, he was the same as everyone else.
Back on the mainland, he was billionaire Wyatt Landers. He couldn't just go back and live in Cassie's apartment. If he returned, he would thrust her into the blinding world of money that he'd worked so hard to escape.
Watt threw a small pebble into the ocean waves, quickly losing sight of it in the foam and turbulence of the water. He was that pebble when he was a billionaire. Unusual and unique in the water, but surrounded and lost.
He laughed bitterly. Being a billionaire wasn't all he'd thought it would be. He much preferred the simple life he had here. He was happy here.
But Cassie wasn't going to be here anymore. He needed to convince her to stay.
He stood up and dusted the sand from his pants. He would go to her room. He would tell her who he was. He would sweep her off her feet, and they would live happily ever after. He knew it.
With determined steps, he ran to his beach house. He fixed his hair and put on an expensive shirt. He wore the expensive watch. He wore the expensive shoes that were almost as comfortable as his sandals. He fixed his appearance and made sure he looked like a billionaire.
He needed to prove to her that she could stay here without losing everything she'd worked so hard to achieve.
An hour later, Wyatt walked across the marble lobby, his shoes clicking softly with each step. He should have brought flowers. Or chocolates. Something.
Annette was working the front desk. Maybe she had some flowers he could take with him.
“Hello, sir. How may I help you?” Annette asked pleasantly as he approached.
Wyatt frowned. “It's me, Annette. Wyatt.”
Annette's eyebrows went into her graying hair, and her mouth went wide. “Oh, my word. You don't look like you.”
“Do I really look that bad?” Wyatt asked, checking his clothing.
“Oh, no. You look like a million bucks,” Annette quickly replied. “You just don't look like usual. Your hair, your clothes. Even the way you're walking is different.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“It's fine. Just different. Like an actor playing two different people in the same movie.” She stared a little at him. “You look like you should be a guest here.”
He could probably afford to buy the whole hotel, let alone just a room for the night.
“I need some flowers,” he said.
Annette glanced around the front desk, and her eyes settled on a tropical bouquet on the edge of the counter. “Here, take these. We always get new ones in the morning. They're pretty, and no one will miss them.”