Chapter 16
BENEATH THE SURFACE
Like water smoothing stone, love wears away the jagged edges of pain
Della
The sky is impossibly clear, the sun shimmering on the water like it’s trying to tell me something—The nightmare is over. Look around you. Start living again.
I lean against the polished railing of the yacht, letting the breeze brush against my face. The lake is so still it feels like the world is holding its breath.
And then I glance at him.
Dorian’s at the helm, hands steady on the wheel, his white T-shirt pulling across his arms as the wind toys with his dark hair. Every time our eyes meet, there’s a glint there—soft and piercing all at once—that makes my heart stumble.
He smiles, and I feel it deep in my bones, like a ripple that stirs something I thought was long dead.
I’m a little annoyed that he looks so… relaxed. And damn attractive.
“Shouldn’t you be working?” I ask, trying—and failing—to sound casual. “Running your company, doing something big and important?”
He doesn’t even hesitate. His gaze softens as he looks my way.
And I see it. His eyes filled with a warmth so profound it steals my breath.
“You are the biggest and most important thing in my life. Nothing is more important than being here with you.”
He steers us away from the clusters of tourist boats and into a quiet inlet near a distant, tree-lined shore. The engine slows, then cuts completely, and the silence feels sacred.
“I didn’t feel important at all… not in all these years.” I answer, more with sadness than reproach.
He steps away from the wheel and comes close to me. His jaw tightens, and when his eyes meet mine, they’re raw—full of regret and something that feels like pain.
“I am sorry, Della. I’m so sorry. I was blind… and a fool. I let myself believe Leah’s lies and I broke my promise to you.”
He takes a breath, as if the weight of those years is crushing him.
“I can’t change the past. I wish to God I could go back and undo every choice that kept me from you. What you went through… the thought of it will haunt me for the rest of my life. I’ll never forgive myself for letting you go. For not being there for you.”
His gaze holds mine—steady, unflinching, almost desperate.
“But I can promise you this: you are all that matters to me, Della. There has never been anyone but you, and there never will be. And I will spend every day proving it to you. Making you feel it. In every way.”
My pulse kicks hard, his words wrapping around my heart like a vow. I open my mouth to respond, but I stop. I just look at him—and in that moment, I know he means every word.
I turn my eyes on the glassy water, leaning against the railing.
“I had everything planned so carefully—attend the conference, meet with my team, enjoy the city a little, fly back home. End of story.”
His arms fold around my waist and my back meets the solid warmth of his chest.
“Not much of a story,” he murmurs.
A faint laugh slips out of me.
“I honestly thought that in a city of over two and a half million people, I wouldn’t run into you. But then again, in a way, I hoped I would. Does it make sense?”
“Yes, it does,” he says, stepping around me so we’re face-to-face. His eyes burn in a way that roots me to the deck.
“I thank the Universe for that conference. The night I saw you getting out of the car in front of the club, wearing that insane red dress… I died and was resurrected at the same time. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
Then, with a whisper that mirrors my own words, he says:
“But, in a way, I hoped I would.”
His fingers brush a stray strand of hair from my face, tucking it gently behind my ear. Then his thumb grazes my lower lip, the touch so delicate it makes my knees weaken.
I nod and close my eyes. I tilt my head to his palm feeling his warmth, inhaling his scent.
“I love you, Della. I never stopped loving you,” he breathes, the words sinking into me like they’ve been waiting years to be spoken aloud.
“I lost my mind when I couldn’t get in touch with you.
In just a few hours, you were gone, completely vanished from my life.
At first, I thought the plane had crashed or something, and I checked with the airlines, the airports.
After a while, I started wondering if you were just a dream…
if I’d imagined everything we had together in those months.
I started drinking, letting doubt creep in—doubting myself, doubting you, doubting all of it.
I couldn’t sleep. Breathe. But the worst part… ”
His voice cracks, and for a moment, he looks like he’s fighting to hold himself together.
“… Living every day with the thought I hadn’t fought hard enough. That I’d let fear and pride stop me from finding you. That I let you walk away and convinced myself you were better off without me. It was the worst lie I’ve ever lived with.”
He pauses, his forehead nearly touching mine.
“There’s more I need to tell you. And I will—all of it. But right now… You’ve been through enough and I just want to hold you. Be here.”
His breath hitches.
“I was a coward, Della… I am sorry. Please, forgive me.”
I look up into his eyes—and for a heartbeat, it feels like he’s laid his entire soul bare. The regret. The promise that he’ll never make the same mistake again.
My lips part, but words don’t come. I can’t speak yet.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he continues, his voice rough, full of a desperation that cuts straight through me. “Just… know that I will do anything to keep you safe. To make you laugh again. I am not letting you go, Della. Not now. Not ever.”
My chest aches at the conviction in his voice.
“I have a flight back home the day after tomorrow,” I manage to say.
“I know.” He closes the distance, forehead brushing mine. “Cancel it, Della. Don’t walk away again… Please.”
“Dorian, what are you asking me?”
“I am asking you to stay. With me,” he says, almost pleading now. “I am asking you for a second chance. I don’t want to pretend I can live without you anymore.”
His words settle over me like a confession I’ve been waiting to hear for years.
My heart doesn’t know reason… it only knows his heart.
My mind is still tangled in a hundred questions, but my body aches for him. For the way he looks at me like I’m his entire world.
I can’t hold back anymore.
I rise up on my toes, press my palm to his chest—and kiss him.
His heart skips under my hand, then pounds harder, syncing with mine. His mouth moves against mine slowly, carefully, as though I might break. But the years apart have sharpened my hunger—I fist my fingers into his hair and pull him closer, my lips parting under his as the kiss deepens.
His tongue slides against mine—hungry, claiming, yet offering at the same time. Then he tugs at my lower lip, just like he used to—sending shivers straight through me.
… God, I missed him so much…
His hands find my waist, warm and certain, then lift me like I weigh nothing.
My legs wrap around him on instinct, my hips fitting to his as if they’ve never forgotten where they belong. The world narrows to this—the taste of him, the press of him, the thundering duet of our hearts.
I barely register the movement until I feel the shift—inside, below deck, the low hum of the water against the hull, a steady backdrop to the chaos inside me.
Somehow, my shirt is gone, and my hands are already tugging at his T-shirt, pushing it up, desperate to feel his skin.
The heat of him hits me—hard muscle under warm skin, the faint scrape of dark hair against my palms. I trail my hands up to his shoulders, memorizing the way they flex under my touch.
He stills suddenly, his hand covering mine. His gaze locks on mine.
“Are you okay, Della?” His voice is unsteady, breath catching. “Are you sure?”
And in that moment, I know.
I hold his eyes, my voice soft but sure.
“Make me yours.”
Something in his eyes changes—darkens—before he claims my mouth again, this time with hunger that steals my breath. My hands clutch his shoulders, feeling the weight and heat of him seep straight through my skin.
It’s overwhelming and consuming. And yet, I crave more.
His hands slide up my sides, slow and reverent, until they cup my breasts through the thin lace of my bra.
His thumbs graze my nipples, sending a shiver down my spine, and I arch involuntarily, my breath hitching.
With a soft tug, he works the clasp loose, sliding the bra away.
His mouth trails kisses across my collarbone before claiming one newly bared peak with his tongue, the sensation drawing a low moan from me.
“Dorian…” My voice is already breaking apart.
He lifts his head, his gaze searing into mine as his fingers hook under the band of my underwear. With a single, unhurried motion, he slides it down my hips, his touch whisper-light, and I feel stripped of more than just fabric.
And then it happens.
The instinct. My chest tightens. My gaze drifts to the side, away from him, searching for the distance that’s always been my shield.
My mind begins to float, to withdraw, the way I learned to in those moments when feeling was too dangerous.
My body stiffens, retreating somewhere safe, somewhere silent.
But he feels it instantly.
“Della,” he whispers, his hand finding my cheek, warm and grounding. He tips my chin up gently until my eyes lock with his. “Stay with me.”
My lips part on a shaky breath, but he doesn’t rush me. He leans close enough that I feel his breath on my skin, his voice low and husky, laced with something that’s both command and plea.
He presses his forehead to mine, his breath warm against my skin.
“You don’t have to hide anymore,” he says, every word a vow. “It’s me, Love.”
Something in me cracks. A tear slips down my cheek as I nod, barely.
His thumb wipes it away
“Look at me,” he says softly. “I need you here. With me.”