Chapter Two
Damien
I haven't done anything this stupid in a long time.
I walk out onto the balcony of my cabin and stare out over the endless expanse of water. I can't stop thinking about her. The curly haired, hazel-eyed woman at the bar. Her panicked opening line had grabbed my attention, her ability to laugh at herself kept me intrigued, and the sparkle in her eyes hooked me in a way I can’t seem to escape.
Every time I close my eyes, I see her wide smile and freckles, her petite, curvy cute frame, and hear the sound of her laughter. Even the near-constant buzz and trill of my phone seems forgotten as she lingers in my mind.
The stupid thing I'd done was not get her name.
It's a big ship with a lot of people on board - there's a good chance we won't cross paths again. And the things that I know about her won’t help me find her, like the fact that she likes mimosas for breakfast, she's a vet tech, and her humor is infectious. She made a boring, work-filled morning feel fun and alive.
Even though she'd been alone, she hadn't been lonely. Even though she was the right age to be, she didn't spend the entire time we’d talked on her phone. Hell, she hadn’t even checked her phone while we’d talked. That's a completely unexpected scenario that has never happened to me before. For the first time ever, I felt like I had someone's complete and undivided attention. I didn't have to fight with her phone just to try and get a word in edgewise.
The wind whips at my hair and pins my clothing to my body, and I lower my elbows to the railing. I know that she loves animals and that she's on vacation. I know she seemed oddly sad, even as we had an animated conversation. And she's one of the few people who didn't pressure me into giving her more information about where I work and what I do.
I don't like telling people that I'm a CEO for a well-known company - a company I created from the ground up. A company that's currently under attack from someone I went to college with, who thinks that they can undermine me and take everything I’ve worked so hard for.
Someone I’m toying with.
As if on cue, my phone chimes and I lift it up to see that someone's trying to access my work computer in my office. With the push of a button, I let them into a mirror, a dummy account that won’t actually allow him to do anything, but he’ll feel like he’s making progress. And while he’s doing so, I have him on camera and have armed guards waiting for him. Of course, the guards are just there in case he tries something really stupid, like take a hostage or some other reckless move.
I pull up the surveillance and watch him typing away happily at my keyboard. My dark heart is amused at the fact that he is not accomplishing the task he set out to execute. He thinks he’s going to steal information, passwords, and install a keylogger on my computer, but he’s really just leaving a perfect digital fingerprint of the crimes he’s trying to commit. He’ll get nothing from this, but will walk away feeling like he’s winning. What an idiot.
But even as I watch someone else's evil plan unfold right in front of me, I find myself wishing I could be anyone else right now. I don't want to be Damien Black, CEO of Black Industries. I don't want to be the ruthless, ambitious man who's known to stop at nothing to achieve his goals.
Right now, I want to be a man on a vacation who has met a woman he might just want to see again. I want to have fun, enjoy my life, let loose a little bit. Change out of the endless array of suits and ties that all look strikingly similar and just relax. I want to be an everyman, someone who has caught the eye of a beautiful woman and can just enjoy her company.
I want to be someone who can be with her.
I sigh while watching the surveillance video and decide to take a break from work. When's the last time I didn't obsess over what I needed to do next, or the internal betrayal unfolding, or the work that I feel only I can accomplish? When was the last time I took a breath, forgot about work, and just had fun?
I can’t even remember.
But she’d made me forget for a little while. She’d brought me back to the real world. She’d reminded me that all the work in the world feels hollow if there’s no one to share the successes and triumphs with. If a mere stranger I’ll likely never see again inspired that in me, I can’t even imagine what might happen next.
A quick glance at the activity roster I’d saved to my phone tells me that I can go dancing today, if I’d like. I lift both shoulders before heading back into my cabin. I'm not particularly fond of dancing, but I do know how - my father made me take lessons when I was a kid. Apparently, that's part of being a gentleman and a leader; it’s a good way to charm and impress people. And my dad sure knew how to charm and impress people, right up until the very end.
I shoo away those buzzing, unpleasant thoughts.
Dancing did help me charm and impress people, but I never found any true joy in the activity. Dancing never made me happy. But maybe it will tonight.
I leave my cabin and make my way to the ship's nightclub. The place is crowded, noisy, and dark with bright flashing lights. Upbeat, loud music thrums through my veins, and I move through people standing around, drinking, talking, laughing, and partying. There’s nothing overly exciting here, and I scan the room, looking for her. Hoping to see her. Wondering if she’s here. Unsure if fate will grace us with a second chance, since we’d squandered the first.
And then I see her.
She's with a small group of friends, sitting at a table near the dance floor. Her three friends are laughing and drinking, but she seems distant from them, and I don’t just mean proximity. She's focused on her phone, typing something furiously with furrowed eyebrows and her teeth worrying her lower lip.
She doesn't look happy. She seems stressed and worried.
And I sense that something is wrong.
She hardly seems like the same person I'd met at the bar yesterday morning.
One of her friends reaches out and touches her arm, but she doesn't even look up at them. The friend says a few words and she nods before the group of three move out to the dance floor.
I work her direction, pushing through the crowd of people. She doesn't notice me at all; she's so absorbed in whatever's happening on her phone. I reach her table and walk behind her chair before leaning down to whisper in her ear.
“Excuse me, miss? Are you interested in hiring a hitman today?” I could easily look down and read over her shoulder, but I'm not about to invade her privacy. Whatever she's dealing with, she's welcome to discuss with me, but I'm not going to try to pry and find details.
She jolts and gasps, dropping her phone on the table as she spins around and looks at me with wide eyes. It's her alright. She's even more beautiful than I remember.
She presses her hand to her chest, and I can see her pulse thumping much too quickly in her throat. “You scared me,” she whispers, as if she’s so frightened even her voice ran away. “What are you doing here?” she asks.
I lean in close and lower my voice as much as I can over the music. “This may come as a surprise, but I'm here on vacation and I'm trying to enjoy myself.” With those words, I sit down in the chair beside her and she turns all her attention to me again.
She freezes for a moment, then her lips curve into a smile, and she lets out a soft laugh. “I meant here , here.” She gestures to the club around us, and I can't help but wonder if she's trying to imply that this isn't my kind of scene.
I feign offense. “Are you trying to say I’m out of place here?” I ask.
She chuckles as her phone goes off, the quick succession of sounds telling me someone is rapid-firing messages at her. Her face goes red - at least, I think it does. It's hard to tell in the light. “Sorry about that,” she says as she drops her phone into the little clutch she’s holding. I take in her cream-colored short dress, noticing how it rides up her thighs and almost flashes indecent parts of her body. “And yes, you are a little out of place wearing a suit in a nightclub.”
I chuckle. “If only someone had warned me before I made a fool of myself.”
“Oh, you didn't make a fool of yourself.” She plants her elbow on the table and cradles her chin in her hand.
“What was that about?” I ask, gesturing to her clutch where she’d shoved her phone.
This time I know for a fact that her face is red, and she glances away as if avoiding my stare. “Nothing,” she says, shaking her head.
I’m not a fool. “It didn’t seem like nothing.” I don’t want her to think I’m not paying attention, and I don’t want her to face whatever she’s going through alone.
She sighs, and her teeth tear through her lower lip. “My ex, Jake. He’s... texting me a lot.” Something about the way she says the words tells me they're not the words she wanted to use, and I sense that he's harassing her, but she’s afraid to say that. I can understand - who wants to show off their baggage day two of meeting someone?
Still, sometimes it's better to talk about these things, so I reach up and touch my shoulder with one hand. “I've been told that this shoulder is good at catching tears if you need an empathetic ear.” I've never considered myself a soft or sentimental person, but around her this just comes naturally.
Her expression softens, and the corners of her lips curve almost into a smile as her gaze searches my face. “Thank you,” she says softly.
I sense that now is a good time to change the subject, so I tilt my head toward the dance floor. “Do you want to dance?”
She seems surprised as her eyebrows furrow. “Dance?”
I can't hold back a light chuckle. “Did you come here to dance tonight, or did you come here to talk to your ex?” The words come out playful and she actually smiles this time.
“I was asking if you were asking me to dance,” she clarifies.
“I think I was.”
She hesitates and looks at her friends, who are watching us with curiosity and concern as they dance on the crowded floor.
“They’ll be fine,” I say. “They’ll understand.”
“Can you dance?” she asks.
“I can dance,” I say, my mind flashing back to lessons with Miss Porter every Tuesday and Thursday for six years straight.
“Can you teach me?” she asks, a smile on her beautiful face.
“I can try,” I say. With those words I take her hand and lead her to the dance floor. As if on cue, the music switches to a slow song and all around us couples start pairing up to sway back and forth. I grab her hips and pull her in close as she winds her arms around my shoulders.
I can tell she's still a million miles away in her own mind, but I'm not sure what to say or do to alleviate that. “You deserve to have fun on your vacation.”
As I say the words, she physically jolts, jerking her head back to start up into my eyes. “I guess I'm pretty obvious, huh?”
“And that's fine. I'm not going to hold it against you. I just want you to know that you deserve better.” Whoever this prick is that's trying to ruin her good time, I'd like to ruin his fun for a while.
“Thank you,” she says again, snuggling in close to me. “He just wants to talk about us.”
“Us?” I don't understand what she means, and she quickly backpedals.
“Sorry,” she gives her head a slight shake as she smiles, “not you and me - us. He and I - us.”
“Ah,” I say, tilting my head up as I understand what she meant.
“But there is no us.” Her cheeks begin to go red and I sense she's embarrassed about whatever happened between them. I'm not going to push, but I'll absolutely listen if she wants to continue to talk.
“Whatever he did to drive you away, he was a fool.” My words sound as sincere as I feel - and I feel totally sincere. Zoe is fun, wonderful, funny, smart - the kind of woman any man would be lucky to be a partner to.
“Now you sound like my friends.” She glances around, as if looking for them. I follow her gaze and find them at the table they'd shared, watching us with great interest while talking. “He wants me back.”
I don't like the sound of that.
“Do you want him back?” I ask, not sure I want to hear the answer.
“Absolutely not.” There’s such a firm edge in her voice I wonder what he did to completely alienate her and destroy any possibility of reconciliation. If I had to guess off the top of my head, I'd say he cheated. What a fool.
I pull her a little closer and she rests her cheek on my chest as if to listen to my heartbeat. “If you don't want him back, why are you listening to him?” I don’t say the words with any cruelty in my heart. I just want her to realize that she's allowing him to ruin her vacation.
“That's just it. I'm not listening to him. I told him to leave me alone.” She sounds frustrated.
“And he’s not listening?” I ask. “Why don’t you block him?” Given how simple the answer is, I imagine she’s either already done so, or has been too flustered to remember that’s an option. I’m not judging either way.
“I have blocked him, but he keeps finding ways to contact me.” I can feel her body tensing up as she speaks and know that this whole situation with him is stressing her out.
“How so?” I ask.
“Like calling from restricted or blocked numbers and from friends' phones or reaching out to me from new accounts he’s creating on social media.” With that clarity, something cold tickles up my spine.
“That sounds like harassment.” The guy's obviously a stalker, through and through, and I'm worried about her safety now. A little voice in me whispers that I shouldn't be so invested with this stranger, but now I'm hooked. I'm not the type to try to save anyone, but nobody should have to go through what she's dealing with.
“It is harassment,” she says angrily. “He’s a jerk and a stalker, but I don’t know how to make him stop.”
“Have you tried calling the cops on him and reporting his behavior?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “It's darn near impossible to file a report while on vacation. And to be honest, I'm afraid of making things worse. What if I report him and he pulls something awful, and I become a dateline special? I don’t want to be on the news as ‘body found’, you know?”
The fact that she even has to worry about something like that makes my stomach twist. I can’t even imagine being a woman in today's world. I hold her a little tighter as a surge of protectiveness and affection overwhelms me. I want to help her. I want to make him stop.
Our song ends and she glances at her friends and then up at me. “I should probably introduce you to them before they lose their minds. Thank you for the dance, by the way.”
“Thank you .”
Her face lights up at my words, and I know she’s happy I thanked her and showed that her time and attention have value to me. “You’re welcome,” she says.
There's an odd connection between us that I both want to explore and want to ignore. She's so different from the women I generally interact with. There's nothing shallow, greedy, or fake about her. To the contrary, she seems genuine, kind, and gentle.
As we make the walk across the floor, she stumbles and nearly falls, but I catch her and pull her into my body, steadying her on her feet. She glances up over her shoulder at me. “I almost fell and looked like an idiot. Thank you for catching me.”
“If you'd fallen, I have no doubt you’d have looked like an angel.”
A flash of surprise fills her gaze, but before she can speak, her friends descend on us, breaking up the intimate moment.
Before they can reach us, I lower my head and kiss her hair and she smiles, welcoming her friends as they swarm us. The blonde one studies me, then her friend, a wide smile plastered on her face. “Are you having fun?”
The gentleman of the group winks at her and the redhead studies me, fascinated. I can see that they're acting like they're happy for her, but I sense that they're worried, no doubt because she probably picks the worst kind of men, judging by her ex. I understand why they might expect me to be a loser too. Of course, I don't like that her friends don't trust her.
I wonder how much they know about what she's going through with her ex, and I'm worried that they might be part of the problem, enabling him to reach out. What if they think he's a good guy instead of a problem? I know it's not my place to feel suspicious of her friends, but I am worried about her safety and mental well-being.
I actually wonder if they know what he's doing to her. Maybe she’s hiding what he’s doing from her friends.
But I know.
And I’m going to do something about it.