Chapter Nine
Chapter 9
DECLAN
WHO KNEW MY MYSTERY WOMAN snored? She’s across the living room in the suite’s second bedroom, but the builders must’ve cut corners because the walls are thin. It’s three in the morning, and I’m lying awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to that woman snore.
I smile in the dark.
Giving up on sleep for the night, I fling the covers off. I grab my laptop and busy myself with work for about an hour. My body is still tense from the jet, so I dress in workout clothes and decide to go for an early jog on the beach. I send the snoring woman a quick text to let her know I stepped out—in the unlikely event she wakes while I’m gone—then I lace my sneakers and grab my backpack.
“Want me to go with?” Sean asks when I step out of the suite. His eyes are still glued to a book. I swear, he reads one or two a day, all self-help or biographies.
I’m sure he’s been in the hallway all night, but he looks completely awake and energetic. I always tell him he doesn’t need to literally guard the door, just accompany me to places, but he never listens. He and Jeremy are across the hall, and that’s good enough for me, but Sean is stubborn. Mostly paranoid. Someone broke into my room one time during a work trip; Sean has been extra diligent ever since.
That is why he’s the best.
“No,” I tell him. “I’ll be back soon. Besides, I’m still irritated you got to see her face, and I didn’t.”
He flips a page and smirks. “You’re missing out.”
Grumbling, I leave down the hallway.
A handful of minutes later, my sneakers are in my backpack and my bare feet are pounding the sand. The resistance challenges my muscles to work harder. I usually run on the beaches near home a few times a week, but the ocean around the Big Island is more serene. There’s less trash, no people. Just sand, water, and fading stars.
After ten miles, I’m sweaty and my thighs ache, so I sit along the water’s edge, letting the waves caress my feet. I chug from my water bottle as I gaze at the ocean. The sun is starting to crest the horizon, replacing the darkness in the sky with orange and red.
I lean back on my hands and watch. It’s been a while since I saw the sunrise. Even though I struggle with insomnia, I always keep the curtains closed until the sun is up.
For good reason.
Tiffany loved the sunrise; she said it was a new beginning every twenty-four hours, like everything before it didn’t have to matter. Her obsession meant she was awake before I was, and she always got me up early on the weekends.
I would trudge up to the rooftop patio with her, half asleep, then we’d hold each other and watch the horizon. When the sky was finally lit up, she’d tip her head back to grin at me.
“Welcome to a fresh start,” she’d say.
That was during the early years when she still smiled.
My chest feels hollow now, and I realize sitting down to watch the sunrise was a stupid idea. I start the jog back to the hotel.
Along the way, thoughts of my mystery woman creep in.
What the hell am I going to do about her?
The woman is…infuriating.
She’s clearly running away from something. It’s not that I want to get involved, but she is involving me since I was her means out of California. Despite that, she won’t give me any answers. A name. Won’t even show me her entire face.
I don’t like the dynamic.
I’ve also never met a woman so ridiculous as to offer to pay me for the use of my private jet. The women I date are always eager to spend my money—which has never bothered me—yet this one is trying to split the bill?
It’s half insulting, half bewildering.
Mystery Woman isn’t just a fascinating puzzle, she makes me feel out of control.
A feeling I absolutely hate.
So the question remains: What do I do about her? Set her free? Or keep trying to peel back the layers so I can further help?
She seems to need it.
I reach the hotel elevators and jam my finger against the button. I’m so on edge even after the run that I feel ready to jog up the stairs to the suite. Instead, I lean against the wall and try to have some patience.
The sensible part of me says to let my mystery woman go. Since she just wanted to use me for a one-way ticket to Hawaii, fine. See ya. Have fun.
But the damn protector in me can’t turn his back on a woman; I know I won’t rest until I feel more in control of the situation.
Selfish, I know. Like I’m trying to redeem myself.
The elevator finally arrives, so I ride it up. As I approach the suite, I nod at Sean.
He breaks into a wide yawn.
“Get some sleep,” I tell him. “I don’t need you out here in the hallway.”
He flips a page of his book, something with ‘zen’ in the title. “The point of security is to be there for the unexpected.”
“Then at least get Jeremy to switch out.”
“I will soon.”
I’m about to open the door when a thought stops me. Since Sean is here, I tell it to him; maybe I just need to say it out loud since I’m struggling to make sense of it.
“She didn’t look me up.”
Sean lowers his book. “A lot of people have heard of you.”
“She hasn’t. Yet she didn’t research my name.”
“Is that a bad thing? You’ve said you hate people knowing about…you know.”
“I do.” I wrap my hand around the door handle. “But I’m so used to people knowing that it feels strange she doesn’t.”
When people learn my name and that I have money, they immediately hit the search button. They find stories about my wealth, my company, exposés on the endless stream of women I date, articles about my ‘heart wrenching and tragic’ personal life. Then they come to me with their admiration, greed, judgment, lust, or pity. Often, all five.
Yet, not the woman in my suite.
“You gonna tell her then?” Sean asks.
“I don’t think so. She doesn’t want to stick around anyway, and it’s actually a relief to have a clean slate.”
I can understand why she doesn’t want to reveal her own history. When others don’t know your past, there’s a sense of freedom. A fresh start.
As I enter the suite, I’m thinking about a long, hot shower and some black coffee. That’s why I’m startled to find my mystery woman pacing in the living room while wringing her hands.
No sunglasses.
Jesus, she’s beautiful.
“Declan,” she gasps when she notices I’m here. Maybe I’m imagining it, but she looks relieved to see me. “Where were you?”
“Out for a run.”
“Oh…”
“Everything okay?” I ask, dropping my backpack near the door and stepping closer.
She nods sharply, glancing at my sandy calves.
I can’t take my eyes off her. After weeks, finally I can see the full color of her dark brown irises, the slender curves of her eyebrows, the slight upturn of her petite nose. She has a few freckles just around her eyes.
“You’re stunning,” I say.
Her eyes bulge and she touches her cheek. She spins around. “Dammit.”
“There’s no reason to hide. I’ve already seen you.”
With a sigh, she faces me again, her cheeks flushed pink.
I can’t help the animal in me, whose gaze wanders down her body, taking in the black boy shorts and the outline of her puckered nipples beneath her thin sleeping shirt. “I really like what I see.”
Her ivory cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink and she crosses her arms, possibly just realizing she’s not wearing a bra.
A thought occurs to me, and I stalk closer. “You looked a bit…scattered when I walked in. Were you worried about me?”
She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “As if. I just woke up, and you weren’t here so—”
“You were worried.”
Her disdain is over-exaggerated, her voice rising in pitch. “No. I wasn’t worried so stop putting words in my mouth. I woke up early, and I was only curious why you weren’t here. It was, like, four in the morning and you were gone for two hours. It was only noticeable, that’s all.”
“Sean was in the hallway the entire time. You could’ve asked him.”
She crosses her arms. “Well, I didn’t know that.”
I stalk closer, expecting her to back up. She doesn’t. When she wets her lower lip, it takes every ounce of self control not to wrap an arm around her waist and devour her. It’s important for her to come to me first. She needs to show me, without a doubt, that she’s interested because I refuse to play any games.
However, I allow myself one light touch, running my knuckle gently over the curve of her flushed cheek. “Thank you for showing me your beautiful face.”
Her lips part and I can tell she’s flustered, breathless.
Wonderful.
“I-I didn’t do it on purpose,” she says. “I forgot.”
“Because you were so concerned about where I went.”
This time, she doesn’t argue, only steps away from my reach.
I think I’ve pushed too much, so I walk toward my bedroom. “I sent you a text that I was going for a run.”
She only nods absentmindedly.
The thrill of seeing her react so strongly to my absence and then to my presence is coursing through me. I can’t resist saying, “I’m taking a shower. Join me.”
She makes a disgusted sound, followed by a snarl. “No thanks. You always this cocky?”
“You can find out.” I flash her a smirk before disappearing into the bedroom.