EPILOGUE
Okay, so maybe some of the billionaire playboy reputation was earned. Camille lay back against the pile of white linen pillows in her private cabana and studied the stunningly beautiful Thai coastline. It was utterly pristine: nothing but lines of impossibly blue sea alongside lines of impossibly wide-open sky, startlingly white beaches and no one else around for miles.
Six days in and she was still having a hard time understanding that. No email. No texting. No calls…well, not entirely no calls. She still talked to Delaney, Meme, her mother, and Jamie almost every day, but she wasn’t supposed to talk about work. After she’d closed the Sand Pile Project—technically, it was the Bexley Foundation project, but after Tom dumped all that sand, she couldn’t see it as anything else—Wya
