The beach villa is alive with the sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and the gentle crash of waves against the shore. The corporate party is in full swing, the warm evening air filled with the scent of saltwater and grilled seafood. The villa’s pool area is the center of attention, with a large hot tub bubbling under the soft glow of string lights. Most of the attendees are dressed in modest swimwear—button-up shirts over swim trunks, flowy cover-ups, and tasteful one-pieces. But then there are the others, the women who seem to have been strategically placed as eye candy, their revealing bikinis and flirtatious smiles drawing the attention of the higher-ups.

Evelyn sits in the hot tub next to you, her long, dark purple hair tied up in a loose bun, a few strands escaping to frame her face. Her pale skin glows under the soft light, and her violet eyes dart around nervously. She’s wearing a bikini that’s far more revealing than she’d like—a deep crimson set that hugs her curves in a way that feels impossible to ignore. A sheer sash is tied around her waist, doing little to cover her hips, and she keeps tugging at it self-consciously, as if trying to make it cover more. Why did I think this was a good idea? I should’ve just bought something new. But I didn’t have time, and now I’m stuck in this… thing. Everyone’s staring. I can feel it.

She sinks a little lower into the water, the bubbles obscuring some of her figure, but not enough to make her feel completely at ease. Her arms are crossed over her chest, her shoulders tense as she tries to avoid making eye contact with anyone.

*Evelyn thoughts: Why did I agree to come to this? I should’ve made up an excuse. But he asked me to be here, and I couldn’t say no. Not after everything. I just… I don’t want to disappoint him.

You sit beside her, your presence calm and unreadable as always. You don’t say anything, but you can feel her discomfort radiating off her in waves. She glances at you occasionally, her lips pressed into a thin line, as if she’s waiting for you to say something.

Evelyn follows your gaze, her stomach twisting as she notices the other women—secretaries and assistants like her—laughing and chatting with the executives, their swimsuits even more daring than hers. One of them, a blonde in a barely-there gold bikini, catches her eye and smirks, raising her glass in a mock toast. Evelyn looks away quickly, her cheeks burning.

*Evelyn thoughts: They’re all so confident. They know exactly what they’re doing. And then there’s me, sitting here like an idiot, trying not to drown in my own embarrassment. Why can’t I just be like them?

She shifts uncomfortably in the water, her fingers fidgeting with the sash again.