53
Damian is feeling warm, content, and a little buzzed after a delicious meal and several glasses of red wine.
But it’s been the one-on-one time with Sydney that produced this unfamiliar lightness in his chest, this effervescing sensation in his brain.
He’s finally articulated his desire to stay in Spain, alluded to his hope of a future with Syd.
She’d seemed receptive—cautiously so. But once she learns the truth about her husband, she’ll need him.
“Top up?” Curtis holds the bottle of wine out to his guest. He’d joined them after cleaning the kitchen, his presence like a parent chaperone at the prom.
“Sure.” Damian holds out his glass, and Curtis pours a few ounces of the bloodred liquid into it.
Curtis turns to his wife. “Last splash, Syd?” But she shakes her head, holds a hand over her glass. It’s still half full.
“Come on,” Damian cajoles her, his eyes dancing with flirtatious energy. “It’s our last night together.”
“I’m good.” Syd smiles. “Besides, someone has to drive you to Girona to get your fuel pump tomorrow.”
Right. The supposed fuel pump has finally come in. “Good point.”
“I’ll drive you,” Curtis offers, dumping the remains of the wine into his glass. “As long as you didn’t burn out my clutch today.”
“Nah,” Damian says, sipping his wine. “I got the hang of it pretty quick.”
Curtis cocks an eyebrow. “That’s not how it looked when you came lurching into the driveway.”
It’s an attack on Damian’s masculinity, and he feels the urge to shut the prick down with a well-placed barb.
But he restrains himself. The evening has been so pleasant.
Sydney has been so warm and open to him.
He doesn’t want to ruin it by getting into a pissing match with Curtis.
Soon, he’ll have two and a half million reasons not to give a shit what that asshole says.
“When we pick up the fuel pump, you can get your clutch replaced,” he jokes, and he’s rewarded when Sydney laughs.
They finish their wine and call it a night.
It’s late now, and tomorrow is a big day.
It will be the culmination of Damian’s master plan and the beginning of an exciting new chapter.
He must be well-rested, remain vigilant for tricks or double crosses.
He’d let his guard down tonight and enjoyed himself, but he’ll be on high alert tomorrow.
He’s so close to the life he’s always wanted he can taste it.
He enters the guest room and finds it empty.
He’d expected to see his girlfriend curled up in bed, exhausted from a day in the elements.
But Bianca must be in the van. He looks out the window through the wall of rain and finds the vehicle dark and quiet.
She must have decided to sleep out there.
Bianca will still be pissy about their fight at lunch.
Could she have heard him flirting with Sydney?
Telling her that he and Bianca have decided to part ways?
Bianca has never cared what Damian did with other women, but this is different.
Sydney is so mature, so wise, so accomplished.
His feelings for her are so valid. They’re so adult.
Shaking off his concerns, he grabs his phone and flops on the bed.
He must ensure the money transfers seamlessly into his crypto wallet.
He opens his Bitcoin app, copies the chain of letters and numbers from his wallet, and texts them to Curtis.
He’s likely sending the info to Curtis’s burner phone, the one he keeps hidden from his wife.
Obviously, Syd can’t know that her husband is about to transfer a huge amount of money to their houseguests in a desperate attempt to save his marriage.
A futile attempt.
Setting his phone on the nightstand, Damian slides between the sheets.
As he settles into bed, he wonders if Bianca has sent her wallet details to Curtis.
Probably. Despite her denials, Bianca wants the money as much as he does.
They’d developed their blackmail plan together, come up with a figure, decided that cryptocurrency was the simplest and safest method of payment.
Damian had offered to set up a wallet to collect the Bitcoin.
One account was the most streamlined. But at some stage, Bianca had stopped trusting him. When?
He lies on his back with his arms behind his head.
He’s exhausted, a little drunk, but he can’t sleep.
His eyes are wide-open, and his heartbeat is erratic.
It’s the red wine. Or it’s the anticipation and anxiety.
Tomorrow, once the money is received, Bianca will tell Syd that she’s married to a killer, that her husband is part of something debauched and insidious.
And then Bianca will vanish. But Damian will hang around to pick up the pieces of Sydney’s broken life.
Of course, Syd might reject Damian’s offers of comfort and support.
She’ll likely be disgusted that Bianca and Damian profited off her husband’s vile behavior.
But Damian plans to put it all on Bianca.
Monetary compensation was the only way she could move forward after her sister’s death.
Poor guileless Damian had no choice but to support her.
Sydney is all alone in Spain. He’ll be the only one she can turn to.
His eyes are finally getting heavy, and he rolls onto his side.
Soon he drifts off, finds himself in a troubling dream.
Something—or someone—is after him. Damian is running from sharp claws, or maybe a dagger, but he’s weak, his legs barely functional.
Suddenly a thud jolts him awake. It’s the sound of an object hitting the tiled floor.
It could be nothing—a dropped book or a phone—but he bolts upright, listens.
Is there someone in the hall? He tries to quiet his own breath and heartbeat and listen.
There’s nothing but silence now. No voices.
No footsteps. The house is quiet, and he assumes his hosts have gone to bed.
He lies back down, but his nervous system won’t settle.
Is he wound up from the ugly dream? Or is his intuition warning him of danger?
He’s tried to ignore his doubts and fears, but they bubble to the surface now.
Does Curtis Lowe really trust his guests to get their money and ride off into the sunset?
To accept five million bucks as compensation for the death of a beloved sister?
Curtis was a savvy businessman in the cutthroat world of New York real estate.
Are they to believe he’s suddenly become so gullible?
If Damian was being blackmailed, he knows what he’d do.
He’d erase the problem. He’d play along, make like he was going to pay the money, and then, when the extortionists dropped their guard, he’d strike.
But Curtis Lowe is a pussy, a coward, a creep who preys on little girls.
He could never summon the courage to take on Damian, even though Curtis’s marriage, reputation, and everything he cares about are on the line. Could he?
No. There’s no way the smaller man would try to physically attack him.
It would be a death sentence. Damian is stronger, faster, and tougher in every way.
Only a gun would tip the balance of power in Curtis’s favor, but he’d assured Damian that he didn’t have one.
In fact, he’d been highly offended when Damian had suggested he might own one that night at dinner.
And this is Europe, where it’s famously difficult to obtain a firearm. Reassured, he drifts away into sleep.
The room is dark, silent but for the rain pattering on the roof, when the pain shocks him awake.
It’s a ripping, tearing sensation in his lower intestines, a powerful wave of nausea.
Damian rolls over and vomits on the floor, a cascade of red wine splashing the tiles.
Jesus. He didn’t think he was that drunk.
In fact, he knows he wasn’t. Another surge of intense cramping curls him into the fetal position, and he grits his teeth against the anguish.
It’s food poisoning. And it’s bad. Damian tries to remember what he’d eaten that day, but the searing pain is too distracting.
His viscera are being torn apart, and he groans audibly.
He needs to get to the toilet, though the thought of standing upright makes him whimper.
But he’s not going to shit the bed, not in Sydney’s house.
Doubled over in pain, he staggers across the hall to the bathroom, slams the door behind him.
Immediately, he collapses onto the cold tiles, hands reaching for the cool porcelain of the commode.
A cold sweat prickles his skin, and his entire insides feel liquefied.
He’s sick. Really sick. He needs Curtis to drive him to the ER, but he can’t leave the bathroom.
Not yet. In the distance, he hears a braying, wounded animal.
It must be a wild boar, shot by a hunter with a gun or a crossbow.
The creature is dying slowly and painfully, its anguish echoing through the quiet hillside.
Just before he loses consciousness, Damian realizes the sound is coming from him.