Page 119 of The Compass Series

DAMIAN

F uck me sideways, and call me Kevin Michaels’s little bitch because that was exactly what I’d become. A dead man’s little bitch. That ghost had me wrapped around his finger, and I hated him for it. I had a list of reasons I hated that man, but the latest reasons were loud in my mind.

When Joe pulled me to the side to talk, he gave me the one piece of knowledge that shifted my interest to take part in the absurd arrangement Kevin left in his will: my charity.

If I had millions of dollars, that meant that I could help millions of children growing up in the foster system. I could make a difference. I could help change the corrupt laws that often harmed more than helped the children in the foster programs.

I could open mental health clinics for those kids who struggled.

I could help make sure struggling teenagers never had to get as close to the darkness as I had grown.

That money meant shit to me, but it meant a whole lot to a lot of other people who I might have never met.

“Why do I feel like I missed a chapter of this story somehow? What do you mean you might be playing house with a stranger?” Connor asked over the phone line.

After I stormed out of the house, I had to wait for my driver to show up to the property to take me home.

So, of course, the first thing I did was call my best friend, Connor, to fill him in on the oddities of my life.

“What I mean is, next week, I’m supposed to get married to a woman I don’t even know in order to get answers about my past and to get a shit ton of money.

Kevin wrote it that way in his will. It’s the only way I get the answers I need, and for Stella to get half of the inheritance.

If we don’t get married for at least six months’ time, all of his wealth will be divided up between his ex-wives. ”

“Jeez.” Connor sighed through the receiver. “I’m not easily thrown off by things, but this is insane.”

“You’re telling me.”

“And the family, this woman—what’s her name again?”

“Stella.”

“Stella’s okay with this?”

“Who knows? It’s a mess. The whole ceremony is set to take place at the property.”

“The place you’re supposed to live?”

“Yep. That’s right. I’m supposed to move in with a stranger by next Friday.”

“This is crazy, Damian. The whole situation is odd, but then again… maybe this can turn into something magical. Like, look at Aaliyah and me. We lived together, and now we are married with a kid on the way.”

“This isn’t a Connor and Aaliyah situation.”

“Right, but it could be a Stella and Damian situation.”

Oh, Connor. The hopeless romantic.

“Stop it,” I ordered.

“Stop what?”

“Making up some fairy-tale romance in your head, you weirdo.”

“I’m not doing that,” he said in a tone that was the complete opposite of convincing.

“You are!”

“ I’m not !” he cried out. There was a moment’s pause before he said, “But I mean, what if she is the one, Damian?”

“She’s not. You know I don’t believe in that shit. I get it—you’re a believer in all of that love mumbo jumbo, but that shit’s not for me. I’m here to get my information, get the money, and get out. That’s all there is to it. All right?”

“Yeah, yeah, all right.”

“Connor.”

“Yes?”

“Stop falling in love with the idea of me falling in love.”

“But Damian!” he cried, dramatically whimpering. “What if she’s your happily ever after?”

“You get a woman to fall in love with you, marry you, and now have a child on the way, and you think that makes you a love expert?”

“Just call me Dr. Romance,” he joked. “But since we are on the subject of Aaliyah being pregnant, I think I’m suffering from morning sickness.”

“I’m no doctor, Connor, but I don’t think that’s how pregnancy works.”

It’d only been about a week or two since Connor and Aaliyah tied the knot, and the whole time at their wedding, Aaliyah passed up every drink offered to her.

No one else seemed to notice, but me, being me, I took note right away.

Plus, Connor had no chill to his excitement about their soon-to-be kid and kept touching her stomach that evening whenever he could sneak a chance.

They informed me about the pregnancy the day I left for Los Angeles.

Since then, Connor has been the most dramatic person alive, acting as if he was carrying the load himself.

“You don’t understand. I’ve woken up nauseous for the past two days, my body aches, and I feel as if I’m going to vomit every time I eat the smallest thing. It has to be pregnancy symptoms.”

“You have heard of this thing called the flu, right?”

“Well, yes, that’s a possibility, but I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s pregnant vibes. Aaliyah and I are just that close that I can feel everything she’s feeling. We aren’t even together right now, but I know she’s craving chili fries, so I’m going to go out and get some.”

“You’re going to get fat over these next few months.”

“Just call me St. Nick, buddy, because this gut is going to be ho-ho-huge in a little while.”

I snickered a little. “I’m going to hang up on you now.”

“Okay. Keep me updated on everything.”

“Yup, will do.”

“If you end up doing the arrangement, I’ll see you Friday!”

“What do you mean, see you Friday?”

“Uh, I’m sorry. Didn’t you just drop the bomb that you might be getting married next weekend, and the rehearsal is Friday?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll see you Friday.”

“Connor, no. You don’t have to fly out here for this. It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s the biggest deal, even if it’s for different reasons. I’m not missing your wedding.”

“I’m not kidding, Con. Don’t come. I don’t want to make this a bigger thing than it is. Even if we do decide to do this, the arrangement will be shorter than Aaliyah’s whole pregnancy. We aren’t going to make this a big deal. Please, don’t come.”

“Okay, okay, but one more thing.”

“What?”

“Is she pretty?”

I sighed, knowing the answer clear as day.

From her big brown doe eyes and full lips to her hips that—unlike her evil stepmothers—didn’t lie at all.

She had curves on curves that my eyes couldn’t help but follow.

Her hair sat above her shoulders in tight coils, and her brown skin was smooth as silk.

When the sun would hit her skin, too, I swore she only became more stunning.

Stella was the definition of beauty. She was remarkable.

“I’m not answering that,” I told Connor, not needing to give him any more reason to think something would come of Stella and me.

“So she is,” he said, with a smugness to his tone.

We hung up with one another, and I looked around the property. My driver was still fifteen minutes out, and for the life of me, I didn’t want to go back into that house.

I hated everything that was happening.

I wasn’t some kid begging for a family to love me anymore. I was past that stage in life. Still, for some odd reason, I felt as if I were that same vulnerable little boy who could’ve been put out on the streets tomorrow if someone had changed their minds.

That was why I didn’t like taking things from others. I hated gifts, and I hated promises. People could hold gifts over your head and throw them in your face if they needed to, and promises were the easiest things to break.

My head was in overdrive mode, and all I wanted to do was shut it off.

While I waited for my ride, I found myself on the basketball court shooting hoops.

Because of course Kevin Michaels had a basketball court.

It was the only thing I could do to keep my mind from spinning.

I grew up playing basketball on broken-down courts in the Bronx, and the game always gave me some kind of peace.

There was something about me being in control of my shots and getting a chance to try again if I missed.

The night’s sky was pitch black, and a few stars shone through. As I dribbled the ball back and forth a few times and performed a few drills, I glanced toward the water and paused a moment, grabbing the ball in my hands.

There Stella was, walking toward the water, in her black dress.

The waves were a bit aggressive that evening, and I knew the water had to be a bit chilled.

The water hit her ankles first, and she shivered a bit but kept walking into the ocean.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her, and I couldn’t grasp why she was walking into the water like an insane person.

It wasn’t like she was going for a late-night swim, but she was walking into the intense waves that were hitting at a speed that made me uncomfortable.

I wasn’t a water person. The closest I’d gotten to water growing up was when the firefighters used to open the hydrants in the summertime during the heat waves of NYC. So, the ocean freaked me the fuck out.

The deeper she grew, the more nervous I became.

She knows what she’s doing , I told myself.

She wouldn’t be out there if she couldn’t handle the waves, I kept repeating in my head.

A massive wave came her way and engulfed her whole body, taking her under the water. I swore my balls clutched from watching it happen. My chest burned when she didn’t emerge.

“Get up,” I said out loud as if she could hear me. When time passed and she still didn’t stand, I cleared my throat and hissed, “Get the hell up, Stella.”

Still, nothing.

I dropped the basketball onto the court and dashed toward the oceanfront.

Stella still wasn’t coming up, which freaked me the hell out.

I dove in and went under, searching for her.

The moment I felt her, I wrapped my arm around her waist and began pulling her out, dragging her soaked body out of the water. That was when the panic ensued.

She began to scream, tossing her arms around, shouting as if I was some psychopath trying to kill her.

“Let me go!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, coughing from her discomfort of being dragged out of the water. She stumbled back as we hit the coastline, falling onto her behind and crawling backward away from me. “Don’t touch me!” she yelled in a panic. Could I blame her?