Page 82 of Deliah

“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 likedhim. 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.”