Island Diaries: My Life With 10 Beauties Novels & Stories

"Okay. I'll just settle things in the company too, then we're finally off to go." "By the way, are we going to a beach? I need to know because I might bring the wrong clothes." I thought for a while before looking at her again."Fine, I'll say it. Yes, it has a beach. A private island." "Well then, I should prepare my swimsuit. Also, a lot of sunglasses. By the way, are you sure there won't be many people who could recognize me there?" "I already rented the whole island for three days. No other people outside or any other tourists can go there except the two of us and of course the staff."

I stared out the window and thought about my mother. Isabella Hart. The woman who had read me bedtime stories. Who had kissed my scraped knees. Who had tucked me into bed and told me everything was going to be okay. She had also recruited teenage girls. Drugged them. Stuffed them into cargo holds. She had also watched them die. She had also written about it in her diary, page after page, confession after confession, guilt bleeding through every word. And now, maybe, she was alive. Hiding somewhere. Waiting for something.

Luna couldn't resist the urge to dive into the refreshing sea, and she spent hours snorkeling among vibrant coral reefs, swimming alongside tropical fish, and marveling at the diverse marine ecosystem. The tranquility and natural beauty of the islands had a profound impact on Luna. She found solace in the simplicity of island life and the unspoiled surroundings. Each day, she woke up to stunning sunrises and spent her mornings practicing yoga on the beach, embracing the serenity and peace that the islands offered.

“Whoa! That reminds me—there should be tons of gemstones to add to my collection on this island.” “Island?” Mom and I blurted it together, our brows furrowing . “Yes.” Dad straightened, all puffed-up confidence. “This is a private island. Just for us.” “You’re just kidding,” Mom snarled, her nails digging into the fabric of her sundress. Karen barreled past me, her elbow poking my hips as she scrolled her phone. “Bitch! Watch where you’re going, or I’ll slam that thing of yours.” “Mom, why do you even let her on social media? Isn’t she, like, eleven or something? You never gave me that privilege—hell, I had to beg for an I*******m till I was sixteen.”

But what she had shown him last night, as he held her in his arms and tasted her lips, it wasn’t the same Isabelle that he had just seen. On the table, near the half-empty coffee cup, was her little diary. What a strange person... In times like these, when everyone was using ultra-high-performance cell phones to communicate, when they were using notebooks to write, Isabelle still used pen and paper to write down her thoughts. Shawn felt tempted to open and read what she had just written and the temptation had the best of him. He leaned back slightly and looked inside the house, to see if anyone was in sight and then took the diary and opened it. He read the first thing that saw.

Kaylee's diary contained entries about another person. "Monday, May 19th: I met a man outside campus today. He said he knew Beau's former girlfriend. I was curious. What kind of woman could possibly deserve someone as good as Beau? "That man handed me a USB drive filled with photos of Beau's ex-girlfriend. She was beautiful. My skin couldn't compare to hers, nor could my body. Even her name sounded better than mine… Isla." A broken heart was drawn at the end of the entry. My heart sank. Who was this man who had suddenly appeared out of nowhere? I had never even known anyone named Isla.

Even Ethan shuts up for once, his scientific explanations forgotten, his face pressed next to Alexander's against the glass. Madison is in my lap. She's been quiet for the last hour, watching the ocean get closer, watching the blue deepen and change as we descend. Eleanor is clutched against her chest. "Are those really islands?" she whispers. "Really islands." "They're so small." "That's what makes them special." "But... where do people live? Is there room?" "There's room. Each island has a resort. Hotels. Places for people to stay when they want to see somewhere beautiful."

With childlike excitement, Leah tugs at my hand, pulling me towards the beach. "Xavier, this is incredible! I never imagined we could experience something like this," she exclaims, her eyes sparkling with wonder. My heart swells with happiness at her delight. "I want nothing but the best for you, Leah. You deserve every bit of joy and extravagance." We spend the day exploring the island, indulging in an array of activities. We snorkel through vibrant coral reefs, marvel at exotic marine life, and even swim with dolphins. Each moment is filled with laughter, adventure, and the overwhelming feeling of being alive.

CHAPTER 10 MYCA'S POV When we arrived at the island, we didn't waste any more time and Majo started looking at the security system and the food we just bought. There is a jetski here and Jilo bought me scuba gear so I can enjoy myself here in the meantime. After all, I'm just going on vacation because I don't seem to have any problems with my current situation. Majo assembled the personal computer so I can still review the report on my resort that Jilo will forward to me. There is also a signal for the TV so I can still watch. But I'm not allowed to talk to other people, especially to open and use my social media accounts. I know that Jilo is spoiling me so I cannot start overthinking while

I laughed until my stomach hurt it felt good. Light like the complicated parts of my life back home were a thousand miles away. After nearly two hours, the island came into view — a stunning stretch of white sand, lush jungle, and hidden coves we explored like kids turned loose. I even tried fishing with one of the guides, standing knee-deep in the shallows with a simple rod. Kylie snapped a picture and posted it instantly with the caption: “Contact the fisherman for fresh catches.” The likes poured in fast. Jayden liked it almost immediately, she showed me the notification i just laughed and shrugged. “Cool.” He’d been viewing my stories too, but never commenting.