Page 10

Two days later…

A fter an incredible day of relaxing on pristine beaches and indulging in local foods in The Bahamas, we were on a luxurious yacht with Damier’s business friends from the area and Hocus and his wife, Jada. The group felt so at ease, so laid-back, and as I looked at Damier, I realized this was exactly the side of him I loved—away from the grit, away from the grind, away from the chaos he couldn’t escape back home. Here, he was free, fun, and that smooth charm of his was in full effect.

As the yacht glided through the warm Caribbean waters, the world seemed to narrow down to just Damier’s crew. The warm, humid breeze felt like silk against my skin, and the scent of salt and tropical blooms lingered in the air. I couldn’t believe we were actually here, far from everything back in LA, letting ourselves just be. It was close to midnight, and the yacht was alive with laughter, the sound of waves lapping against the hull, and soft reggae music carrying us into the night.

He was leaning on Hocus, laughing, a glass of dark, rich Jamaican rum in one hand as they both tried to keep their balance while the DJ spun the “Mississippi Cha-Cha Slide.” I was sitting with Jada, and she was cool. Very mature, and we were the same age. She and Hocus had two kids together, and they were glad to be away just as much as Damier and me. They didn’t hang with us unless they were meeting us for lunch and now for the boat ride.

Jada rolled her eyes, giving me an amused look. “These two always request the cha-cha slide whenever they’re together and drunk—no matter what country, no matter what time.”

I watched Damier, his deep laugh carrying over the music as he and Hocus moved side by side, occasionally nudging each other. Despite his slight lean on Hocus’s shoulder, Damier’s movements were smooth, his natural rhythm and confidence shining through. Even with that slight limp, he made the dance look good. Damier’s other guests on the yacht joined in, adding to the energy. I couldn’t help but smile, loving this carefree side of him.

To anyone watching, he was the perfect mix of alpha and fun, a man with presence but an openness that invited you in. And he was all mine.

The song shifted to something slower, more soulful. Marvin Gaye’s “Distant Lover” floated through the speakers, casting a familiar, intimate warmth over the deck. Damier locked eyes with me, his lips curving into a slight smirk as he extended his hand.

“Dance with me, beautiful,” he said, his voice low, “before this leg gives out on me.”

I laughed, taking his hand, and he pulled me in close. His hand rested on the small of my back as we swayed together, his movements effortlessly smooth. I could feel the strength in his arms, the rhythm in his step, even as he moved carefully to avoid too much pressure on his injured leg.

“You got moves, Mr. Knight,” I murmured, grinning up at him.

He chuckled, his voice a rumble against my ear. “When I got a woman like you in my arms, moves just come naturally.” He spun me gently, then pulled me back into him, his hand sliding down my waist. I rested my head against his chest, closing my eyes for a moment, letting the music and his warmth carry me.

As we moved to the music, a thought slipped into my mind, and I decided to finally voice it. “So… I’ve been seeing this new client,” I said softly, keeping my tone casual. “She tells me a lot of stories about her ex-husband.”

Damier raised an eyebrow, looking down at me. “Oh yeah?” he asked, his voice nonchalant, but I caught a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

“Yeah,” I continued, “and it’s strange. Some of her stories, her descriptions of him… they feel familiar. Like, eerily familiar.”

He tilted his head, his gaze sharpening just a bit. “How so?”

“Well,” I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. “For one, she describes him as a man with a dangerous edge but loyal to the core. First, she went on, telling stories about how he did crimes and then went back to her like nothing happened. Next, she goes on to say he wasn’t the type to cheat and loved a good woman by his side, you know? Like a real hopeless romantic.”

Damier nodded slowly, a subtle tension growing in his shoulders. “And?”

“And,” I went on, “there’s something else that’s… unique about her. It’s her eyes.” I met his gaze, watching for a reaction. “She has one green eye and one light brown eye. Striking, really.”

He stopped moving, his expression shifting as he took that in. “Her name?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper, but I could sense the edge in it.

“Jennifer,” I replied, keeping my gaze steady.

He stilled for a second, then chuckled lightly, his expression unreadable. “Oh, okay. Thought you were going to say, Carmen.”

I nodded, making a mental note to dig a little deeper with “Jennifer” the next time we spoke. But I didn’t push the subject with Damier. We were here to enjoy each other, to savor this escape.

He must have sensed the shift in my thoughts because he pulled me close again, his hand slipping under my chin to tilt my face up to his. “Don’t overthink tonight, Dream,” he murmured, his lips brushing against mine. “We’ll handle everything waiting for us back home soon enough. But right now, I want you to myself.”

I couldn’t argue with that, not with the way his eyes held mine, steady and filled with something deeper than just affection. It was that loyalty, that fire, that connection I hadn’t found in anyone else. I melted against him, letting him sway me through the rest of the song, my heart beating to the rhythm of his steps.

The night wound down, but we stayed in our little world, relishing every moment. By the time the yacht docked, my cheeks hurt from smiling, and I couldn’t recall the last time I’d laughed so much. Being with him felt freeing in a way I’d never expected as if his world had somehow become mine, and I was content to let it.

When we got back to the resort, the night sky stretched wide and dark above us, the stars bright and the air warm. The door closed behind us, and without a word, we found each other’s hands and guided one another toward the bedroom.

We didn’t rush. Every touch, every whisper felt deliberate, each kiss a promise that, at least for tonight, we’d let everything else fade. His hands moved over my body, his touch grounding and igniting me all at once. He took his time, our bodies moving in sync, each moment deepening our connection until there was nothing but us.

$$$$$$

The gentle warmth of the Bahamas sun woke me, its early rays slipping through the balcony door. I blinked awake, reaching across the bed, only to find Damier’s side empty. Sitting up, I spotted him outside, his leg propped up and wrapped, a blunt between his fingers, and a glass of ice water on the table beside him. He looked deep in thought, his gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the calm, blue horizon.

Wrapping a robe around myself, I quietly padded over and slipped my arms around him from behind. He looked up, a small, sleepy smile crossing his face as he reached out to pull me onto his lap.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmured, setting his blunt aside and reaching for his glass of water.

“You didn’t,” I replied, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder as I studied his profile. There was a heaviness in his expression that felt familiar but somehow different. “It seems like you’ve been out here for a while. What’s on your mind?”

He hesitated, exhaling slowly. “I guess I’ve just been thinking about us. What it means to bring you into my life. I know I’ve mentioned it before, but…” He paused, his gaze drifting back out to the sea, his expression turning serious. “I want you to understand that my life isn’t a fairytale. And if we’re going to keep going, I need to know you’re prepared.”

“I am,” I said, holding his gaze. “I’m not going anywhere, Damier.”

A faint smile tugged at his mouth, though the intensity in his eyes didn’t waver. “Then, you need to know that if you’re with me, there are things you might see. You’ll hear things that might make you question what kind of life this is. But I don’t ever want you to be afraid. If you see things that aren’t exactly… on the right side of the law, you need to know that it’s just how I have to handle things sometimes. It’s part of my world.”

He looked at me, waiting for my reaction. I took his hand, holding it tightly as I nodded. “I trust you, Damier. I don’t need the details to know I’m not going to run the moment things get complicated. I stayed calm when your brother approached me. It scared me, but I didn’t show it.”

He squeezed my hand in return, a flicker of relief passing over his face. But as we sat there, I found myself thinking again about Jennifer and her strange sessions. Her stories had been haunting me since we last talked about them, and now, knowing what I knew, it was hard to keep them from bubbling up in my mind.

“You know… I keep thinking about that client I told you about,” I said slowly, breaking the silence. “The one who tells me stories about her ex that she calls ‘Franklin.’ She came back for another session, and I couldn’t help noticing that her stories feel closer to home than I’d like. She has this rare look with her eyes. I know I said this before, but it feels too similar to ignore.”

I looked over, gauging his reaction, and saw a knowing look cross his face. “Those eyes. They sound like my first ex-wife’s,” he said quietly. “She’s got the same eyes and a real specific way of making herself stand out with fashion.”

My heart raced at the confirmation, even though part of me had suspected as much. The thought that I’d been sitting across from his ex-wife, listening to stories about a man I now knew so intimately, sent a strange chill through me.

“So, if it is her,” I continued, “she’s been… careful about what she says. She never uses your name. She sticks to these vague details about ‘Franklin’ and says she’s running from her past of greed. It’s… unsettling, to say the least, especially when she said she stole from him.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze turning hard. “She isn’t supposed to be anywhere near anything that has to do with me. That was part of our arrangement. She’s had enough chances to move on and live her own life. I want you to find out if it’s her, and if it is, shut her down. I don’t want her planting things in your head. She claimed she loved my lifestyle but at the same time says it ruined her. She has bipolar depression, and she might be on drugs again. She is only still around because she isn’t as bad as my second wife.”

“Well, I got the impression that she is bipolar. She didn’t add it to her paperwork,” I replied, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “If she comes back to my office, I’ll let you know, even though I’m not supposed to. It’s clear she still has things she needs to work through.”

He looked at me then, his eyes warm with a mixture of gratitude and something else—something softer, almost vulnerable. “Thank you, Dream, for sticking by me through all of this. It means more than you know.”

We sat there for a while longer, the conversation lingering between us. The breeze was cool against my skin as I snuggled closer, content to be right where I was.

The rest of the week was just as perfect. We spent our days lounging on the beach, exploring hidden trails, and savoring the luxury and beauty of the Bahamas. It felt like a stolen chapter from someone else’s story, a peaceful interlude before reality set in.

But, as all good things do, our time in paradise had to end. The moment we stepped off the plane back in LA, the weight of everything we’d left behind began to press down on us.