Millionaire Offers Towel to Woman Emerging From the Ocean at His Villa, Not Knowing She’ll Love Him
An Unexpected Encounter at the Cove
Raina Willow didn’t mean to trespass, at least not on purpose. She’d only meant to swim a little further around the cove, away from the crowd of tourists that had taken over the public beach.
When she emerged from the ocean, breathless and salty-haired, it was not sand beneath her feet. It was a stretch of private shoreline, quiet and pristine.
Standing there on the edge of a white stone patio overlooking the sea was a man. He held out a towel.
“Looks like you took a wrong turn,” he said, voice calm, a little amused.
Raina blinked the salt from her eyes. The man was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a linen button-down left casually open. It revealed sun-kissed skin and a body that clearly didn’t skip gym days.
His dark brown hair was windswept, his jawline sharp, and his smile—damn, that smile was as effortless as it was unfair.
She hesitated. “I didn’t realize this was private property.”
“It is,” he said, holding the towel out further, “but I’m not calling security yet.”
She stepped forward, dripping water onto the polished stone tiles as she took the towel and wrapped it around herself.
“Thanks. I’ll just go back the way I came.”
“You swam in? Tides turning. You’ll be fighting waves.”
“Still beats getting arrested.”
He laughed. “You’re not getting arrested. You’re clearly not a threat, unless you’re hiding something dangerous under that towel.”
That made her laugh despite herself.
“Only dangerous thing about me is my student loan debt.”
He tilted his head as if that intrigued him.
“I’m Bennett Monroe.”
She studied him. There was something about the name—familiar.
“Wait. The Bennett Monroe?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Depends which one you’re thinking of.”
“The one who bought out half the real estate on this island and built that eco-tech company that’s now worth, what, a few hundred million?”
He gave a crooked smile. “That sounds about right.”
Of course he was that Bennett Monroe. He was the one with the villa rumored to be more luxurious than any resort.
He never gave interviews and rarely showed his face in public. He was the one who apparently offered towels to strangers who stumbled out of the sea half-naked onto his property.
“Right,” she said, tightening the towel. “Well, I’ll be out of your hair. Thanks again for not calling the Coast Guard.”
“You’re not in my hair,” he said, his tone easy. “Actually, I was just about to make lunch. There’s fresh grilled sea bass if you’re hungry.”
She blinked. “Are you inviting me to lunch?”
“Unless you have a better plan, soaking wet and covered in sand.”
She hesitated. Every practical bone in her body told her to say no, but her stomach growled and curiosity tugged harder than caution.
“I guess I could stay for one bite,” she said slowly. “But if you’re secretly a serial killer, I’m a black belt in pretending to be one too.”
He grinned. “Fair enough.”
Bennett’s villa was ridiculous. It was the kind of ridiculous that came with glass walls overlooking the sea and a clean white aesthetic that looked like it belonged in a magazine. It had a kitchen that could feed a small nation.
He handed her a glass of chilled white wine—no label, just crisp and expensive. He set a plate of grilled sea bass, roasted vegetables, and lemon risotto in front of her.
“This is… wow,” she murmured, already savoring the first bite. “Do you have a chef hiding somewhere?”
“I cook when I’m not working.”
“You mean when you’re not running a global company and owning half the island?”
He shrugged, sipping his wine. “Work hard, eat well.”
She smiled, relaxing a little. “I’m Raina, by the way. Raina Willow.”
His eyes flickered with something—curiosity, recognition, maybe interest—before he nodded. “Pretty name.”
