"Luke, look what I got you!"I was holding an ice-cold coconut water. When I turned around, I saw my seven-year-old son cornered in knee-deep water, his face pale with fear.In front of him stood a blond guy in a loud floral shirt, with several bulky bodyguards behind him.The blond jerk pointed at Luke, annoyed. "Where did you come from? Get lost!"A tall, skinny lackey chimed in, barking along, "This part of Crescent Bay is booked by Mr. Ralph Foster for a party today. If you know what's good for you, scram. Don't ruin the place!"Ralph Foster?The name clicked immediately. He was the pretty boy my wife, Gloria Stokes, and her company had been heavily promoting lately.He had blown up after a web series and apparently let it go straight to his head.My brow tightened, irritation flaring. I strode over and pulled my son, Luke Thorne, behind me."This is my private beach. You're the ones who should be leaving."I forced my anger down.But some people just love pushing their
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