Page 42 of Deliah

I paused at the sink, back turned. “Okay, you’re not ridiculous.

” I padded back towards him and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

“Just… a little overprotective.” He didn’t smile.

“I’ll be fine,” I continued, more softly this time.

“Cherry’s working with me. It’s only three nights a week.

I’ll come home after, no messing about. And for the record, I’ve handled far worse than some sleazy manager. ”

His expression hardened. “What do you mean worse?”

I hesitated. “You know what I mean.”

He stepped in close again, his hands gripping my hips. “I don’t want you putting yourself back in that world.”

“It’s not like that,” I insisted. “This is classy. Exclusive. Good tips, good security, and honestly, I need something that gives me some independence.”

“You don’t need money.”

“I told you it’s not just about money.”

His gaze searched mine, and for a moment, neither of us said anything. Then, he sighed. “Fine. But I’m dropping you off and picking you up every night. No arguments.”

I grinned, resting my hands on his chest. “You sure you don’t want to lock me up in here all week?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I’ll be fine,” I whispered again, softer this time.

He kissed my forehead, lingering there. “I just want to keep you safe.”

“And I love that about you,” I said honestly. “But if I’m going to build something new for myself, I need to take steps. I need to try.”

“Just promise me,” he murmured, “no drunk taxis. No walking home alone. And if anything feels off—even a little—you call me. Immediately.”

“Deal.” I reached up and kissed him on the mouth, slow and sweet.

He exhaled into the kiss. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

I smirked. “You love it.”

He pulled me in tighter. “Unfortunately.”

I laughed, then wiggled out of his grip. “Now stop being moody and give me a proper kiss.”

He grabbed my waist, dipped me like something out of a movie, and kissed me like he meant it. Deep. Possessive. All tongue and tension. When he pulled back, his voice was low in my ear. “If that prick of a manager even looks at you the wrong way, I’ll burn the whole fucking place down.”

“Noted,” I said, breathless.

The following morning, I decided it was time to come clean to Mum about Damion.

She already knew I was in Marbella and that I was job-hunting with Cherry, but I’d conveniently left out the part where I was living with a man I barely told her existed.

I figured it would be easier to break the news once I had a job lined up—at least then I’d look semi-responsible.

I headed upstairs to the room Damion had given me.

It was softer than the rest of the villa—more feminine touches, white bedding, soft blue throws, and a wardrobe big enough to swallow me whole.

It felt like my own little sanctuary. I sat cross-legged on the bed, took a breath, and hit FaceTime.

Her face popped up on the screen in seconds, all warm smiles and mum energy. “Hi, Mum!”

“Hiya, bab! You alright? How’s it going over there?”

“Yeah, really good. Weather’s amazing. You’d love it.”

“I bet I would. I miss you.”

“I know,” I said softly. “I miss you too.”

She gave me that look—the one that said, “ What are you not telling me? ” I cleared my throat. “Anyway… just wanted to let you know Cherry and I found a job yesterday.”

“Oh, that’s good! What kind of job?”

“Sort of like what we did before. Hostessing. It’s at some fancy beach club—super posh. Ocean views, cocktails, you know the vibe.”

“Ohh, sounds glamorous. And what about that lad—what’s his name again? Damon?”

I blinked. “Damion.”

“Right. Him. How’s that going?”

“Well… funny you should ask.” I winced, already anticipating the reaction. “I’m… kind of living with him.”

There was a pause. Then: “You’re what?”

“I didn’t tell you before because I knew you’d freak out,” I said quickly. “But we met last summer, remember? I really liked him. And when he asked if I wanted to come out here, he said I could stay at his place. It’s not weird, I promise—I’ve got my own room, my own space. Nothing dodgy.”

She sighed. “Deliah. You are a bloody nightmare, do you know that?”

I laughed, trying to ease the tension. “Yeah, I do. Anyway, want to see my room?”

I flipped the camera around and gave her the grand tour. The huge bed. The walk-in wardrobe. The balcony with a sea view that looked like it belonged in a movie.

“Bloody hell,” she said. “Are you sure you’re not staying in a hotel?”

I laughed. “Nope. This is all his.”

There was a beat. Then she said more seriously, “Who is this guy, though? What does he actually do?”

“He’s a trader,” I replied. “You know—charts, currencies, market stuff.”

She tilted her head, the screen glitching slightly as she narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure about him?”

“Yes, Mum. I’m sure. He’s honestly really kind. A bit intense, maybe, but in a good way. Protective.”

“Hmm.” Her mouth pressed into a line, like she was trying not to let her concern take over. Then she smiled. “Well, it does look lovely. And if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

I felt myself relax. “Thanks, Mum.”

“But just… be careful, okay? I don’t want any more heartbroken daughters to put back together.”

I rolled my eyes, grinning. “I’ll be careful. He’s not like the others, Mum. I actually can’t wait for you to meet him.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” She smirked.

“I’ve got to go now, but I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Alright, bab. Take care of yourself.”

“Love you.”

“Love you more.”

Telling my mum that I was living with him made it all a little more… official. Not just a summer fling or some impulsive decision. This was starting to feel real. Like something—someone—I was choosing.