Chapter 2
Cove
He was here again.
I tried my best to ignore it, but quite honestly, it was fucking hard to ignore a supposed millionaire whackjob who wore full suits to an aquarium he had no business being at so often.
I would’ve called the police on him if he were anybody else.
Instead, I rinsed my hands in the quarantine sink for the third time and pretended I had a perfectly valid reason to be lurking in the back rooms for the last twenty minutes.
The quarantine wing always smelled sharper than the rest of the aquarium—salt and disinfectant and the metallic tang of filtration systems working overtime. It was quieter, too. No crowds, no children shrieking every time something swam past them, no one stopping me to ask stupid questions.
Just the steady humming of the pumps and the soft slosh of water moving through pipes.
I preferred it back here, and it just so happened to also be the perfect hiding spot.
I leaned over the small observation tank in front of me, adjusting the flow valve by a fraction. The juvenile lionfish inside flared its fins irritably at the disturbance, its delicate spines spreading like some kind of venomous lace.
“Easy, mister,” I murmured, mostly out of habit. “You’re fine.”
I made a note on the clipboard clipped to the side of the tank and tried not to picture the front gallery.
Tried not to picture the severe, dark-haired man who had just walked through the doors again like he owned the place.
Which, apparently, he kind of did.
The first time I’d noticed him, I thought he was just another donor doing the rich-person-tour thing. Nice suit, expensive shoes, with that lofty, slightly distracted air like he was already halfway to his next meeting.
Except he kept coming back.
Always in a damn suit.
Which was weird, because no one dressed like that here unless they were the director or someone from corporate, and even then, they usually ditched the jacket after five minutes in the humidity.
Tobias Kelly did not.
No. Tobias Kelly walked through the aquarium as if the climate were personally irrelevant to him.
I’d asked about him after the third time I caught him standing by the shark tank.
“Oh, that’s Tobias Kelly,” Emma had said, like it should’ve been obvious.
She’d been deep in a bucket of squid at the time, handing pieces to me while we prepped for the afternoon feed. Her wavy blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail in an attempt to spare it from squid guts.
“The Tobias Kelly?” I’d asked, recognizing the name from several metal plaques around the building.
Emma shot me a glance. “Yeah?”
“The one who funded the entire coral lab?”
“And the new filtration upgrades,” she added. “And the turtle rehab wing. And like half the research grants we get every year.”
Right.
That Tobias Kelly.
Which explained why the director practically teleported across the floor every time the man walked in.
“He’s a bit eccentric,” Emma had continued, shrugging. “But harmless. Just really into marine conservation.”
I had hesitated before saying it, but the thought had been sitting under my skin long enough that it came out anyway. “Do you ever get the feeling he’s… watching people?”
Emma had stared at me for a second, then laughed. Not meanly, just like I’d said something absolutely absurd.
“Cove,” she’d said, wiping squid ink off her gloves. “He’s a billionaire philanthropist. I promise you he’s not stalking aquarium workers.”
“I didn’t say stalking.”
“You implied it.”
I’d flushed a little. “I just meant that he looks at people like he’s… studying them.”
“Yeah,” she’d said. “Because he’s a tech guy. They’re all like that, mate. There’s a price to pay for being that smart and loaded.”
That explanation had apparently satisfied everyone but me.
Because every time I looked up and found him across the room, standing perfectly still with that same oddly calm expression on his face, I got this weird little prickle at the base of my neck.
It felt like I was being watched by something patient.
A predator.
Which was ridiculous.
Completely ridiculous.
He was a donor. A weirdly dressed donor with way too much free time and a very serious interest in fish.
That was all.
Still.
When I’d seen him step through the front doors twenty minutes ago, suit jacket immaculate as ever, I’d turned right around and slipped through the staff corridor before he could notice me.
Which was why I was now hiding behind a quarantine tank pretending to be extremely invested in a mildly pissed-off lionfish.
I capped my pen and leaned back, scrubbing a hand over my face.
“You’re being paranoid,” I muttered to myself before taking a deep breath.
Just finish the quarantine checks.
Five more tanks, then I could head back out like a normal person and stop acting like some paranoid idiot avoiding a guy who probably didn’t even know I existed.
I grabbed the clipboard and moved to the next tank, jotting down salinity readings and greeting the little patients.
When I reached the last one, I paused.
The service door at the end of the hallway had opened.
I hadn’t heard it over the filtration system.
Footsteps crossed the tile behind me, and my lungs stopped working.
A hand landed on my shoulder, and just as I was about to pass out from nerves, the person behind me spoke.
“Took me forever to find you, mate. Board says you’re stationed at the jellies, so what’re you doing back here?”
A relieved breath rushed out of me at the familiar voice, and I turned to see Mark, one of the senior aquarists.
“You right?” he asked, his voice growing concerned. “You look like you’re going to faint. Do you need to sit for a bit?”
I shook my head and worked to steady my breathing. “No, no—I’m okay. Sorry. I just didn’t hear you coming, and it spooked me.”
Mark looked like he didn’t fully believe me, but didn’t argue. Instead, he clapped my shoulder and went to check the charts of the tanks I hadn’t gotten to yet.
While looking over the numbers, he asked again, “So are you hiding back here? You didn’t answer me before.”
I sighed and leaned my hip against the counter beside the tank. The lionfish flared at the motion again, apparently deciding I was personally responsible for every inconvenience in its life. My lips quirked up a little from the thought.
“Maybe,” I admitted.
Mark snorted softly as he flipped a page on the clipboard. “From who? The jellies?”
“From your weird billionaire friend.”
That got a laugh out of him.
Not a surprised one, either. More like the kind someone lets out when a conversation circles back to a topic they’ve already discussed a dozen times.
“What I’d do to have a billionaire friend,” he sighed dramatically, grinning at me. “What’d Mr. Tobias Kelly do this time?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “That’s kind of the problem.”
Mark raised an eyebrow.
“He just… stands there. Every time he comes in. Like a statue.” I made a vague gesture toward the front galleries. “Staring at the tanks, or the people working on them.”
“Yeah,” Mark said easily. “That’s kind of his thing.”
“That’s a weird thing.”
“He’s a weird bloke.”
I huffed.
Mark chuckled again and moved down the row of tanks, scanning the salinity readings I’d written down.
“You’re not the first person he’s spooked,” he said after a moment. “A couple of the volunteers get twitchy around him, too, but he’s harmless.”
“That’s what Emma said.”
“Because it’s true.”
I watched him check the temperature gauge on the jellyfish system, his movements calm and practiced.
“He’s just… intense,” Mark continued. “Quiet type. Thinks more than he talks. Tech founder, yeah? Probably spent half his life staring at computer code instead of people.”
“Still doesn’t explain the suits,” I muttered.
Mark glanced back at me. “Mate, if I had his money, I’d wear whatever the hell I liked too.”
Fair point.
He finished checking the tanks and set the clipboard down.
“So,” he said, leaning against the counter beside me, arms folding loosely across his chest. “How’re you settling in, anyway?”
The sudden change of topic caught me off guard.
“What?”
“Coming up on four months in,” he said. “Thought I should check. See if the American’s surviving.”
“Oh.” I pushed a loose strand of hair back from my face and shrugged. “Yeah. I’m good. Really good, actually.”
Mark tilted his head, studying me. “No homesickness yet?”
“Little bit.”
That part was unavoidable.
“But otherwise?” he asked.
I glanced down at the tank he stood in front of, watching a cluster of tiny jellyfish pulse slowly through the water.
“Honestly?” I said. “I love it here.”
And I meant that.
The job was everything I’d hoped it would be. The tanks. The animals. The quiet early mornings when the aquarium hadn’t opened yet, and the whole place felt like it belonged to the water instead of the crowds.
Plus, Brisbane itself was… kind of incredible.
“I’m finally fully unpacked,” I went on. “Got my apartment sorted, figured out the bus routes.”
“Impressive.”
“Right?”
Mark smiled. “And the area?”
“Oh, I’m obsessed,” I said immediately. “The river walk near my place? The mangroves? I’ve barely even started exploring yet. I’m so excited.”
That was the part that made the homesickness easier.
Everything here still felt new.
“I’ve been meaning to take a weekend trip up the coast,” I added. “Do some diving once I’m a little more settled. Emma said there are some amazing reefs a few hours north.”
“Yeah,” Mark said. “There are.” His tone shifted slightly, something thoughtful creeping into it. “You’ll want to see them while you’re here,” he added.
“While I’m here?”
He shrugged. “Visa’s temporary, yeah?”
Right.
That again.
“Yeah,” I said lightly. “But if things go well, maybe I can stay longer.”
Mark nodded slowly. “Maybe.”
I couldn’t help my excitement from deflating in my chest from his, “maybe.” Because what the hell did that mean? Did he know something that I didn’t? Had the higher-ups already decided that they wouldn’t be offering me a long-term position?