Damien's POV
The first time I met Lisa Armstrong, it was at a movie theater, where we had both gone to see The Little Mermaid. Her auburn hair was styled in a bun, atop a head that stood out on the female dominated queue seeking to buy popcorn, with a white cashmere dress that hugged her willowy waist and flared to the top of her knees and black heeled boots. Even from behind, with a guy on a baseball cap situated between us, the outfit was cute as hell. But her sling purse was slightly open, and a wallet was peeking out. And the guy in front of me who maybe thought I wasn't paying attention had already swiped the wallet, and made it disappear through his front pocket. I bent over till my mouth was almost against the shorter man's ear. "I would give it back if I were you." "Whatever you mean, dude." "I mean you have the option of giving the lady back her wallet without causing a scene. Either that or I'll have to break every thieving finger of yours to retrieve it." "You're out of your damn mind!" His screech drew the attention of everyone else around us. He made to leave the queue, but I clamped a hand around his collar and hauled him forcefully back. "Not so fast, wisecrack." The queue became something of a circle around us as some security officers hurried over. I fished the red wallet out of his pocket and extended it towards Lisa, who was at the fringe of the crowd. "I believe this is yours, Lady?" "Yeah… I found out it was missing from my bag…" She took it from me. The crowd cheered as the security officers took the pickpocket away. I even received a few pats on my back. But all that did not matter when I laid my eyes on her face. Her eyes were the prettiest blue I had ever seen, huge and sparkly like polished ice in sunlight as she looked up at me. I must have stared for too long, because her brows drew together in a confused stare. "I'm Damien." I finally found my tongue. Same tongue in cheek, I added,"Can I call you Lady?" "Lisa," she corrected with a laugh, eyes smiling, face radiant. Gorgeous. My heart ratcheted up a thousand notches. "Lisa Armstrong." I offered my hand. "Nice to meet you, Lisa. You're here for the movie?" She took it in a handshake. "Likewise and yeah, I am. You? Don't tell me you're into Disney movies. I thought it was a girly girl stuff." Her hand was soft as feathers in mine, the contact sending a rush of electricity through my body. "Let's just say I'm into the princesses and damsels in distress." "You sleazeball." But she was smiling, pouty pink lips tugging up at the corners, and I was enchanted. She was, still is, the most stunning woman I've ever met. "Protecting them is part of what soldiers do." "Whoa." A manicured hand shot up to cover the 'o' of her mouth. "You've got really cool stuff going on, G I Joe. By the way thank you so much for my wallet…" I chuckled at the nickname. "You're welcome, Lisa." She slipped stray tendrils of hair behind her ears. "You with someone?" I gave a broad smirk. "I am now." We spent the whole night together at the theater eating popcorn, seeing the Disney live adaptation, and talking. But that was one month before Keith introduced her to me as his fiancee, and two months before she became Mrs Reed. Now I step into the living space in my parents' ultramodern, upscale residence in Oakenville, cradling a bottle of Merlot in a paper bag. I had been invited by Mom to a Sunday lunch, but aside from the grey leather couches, white walls, a flat screen telly and daffodils in a dainty china vase by the draperies fluttering in the breeze that adds a burst of color to the otherwise neutral decor, and a host of other pricey furniture I'd not bother to name, no other living creature is present. " Anyone home?" I holler. " Mom?" " Damien?" Came a reply slightly muted by distance. Mom emerges finally, in a floral sundress that contrasts beautifully with her olive skin. Her jet-black hair is cut to her neckline, and I spy silver strands that already stand out in the black mass of hair. My free arm snakes around her shoulders in a hug. " Good to see you, Mom." Her caramel colored eyes crinkle as she smiles. "I'm so glad you came, Damien. Feels like ages." She draws back from the embrace. "Look at you. You're glowing." "I am?" "I'm certain you gained more pounds." She pokes at my biceps, gushing like a hormonal teenager poring over a menswear magazine for the first time. "You look bigger than before." I chuckle, and hand her the Merlot. "For you." "Ooh, how thoughtful of you, my sweet." She lifts the bottle for closer examination. "Come. Lunch's this way." Mom hooks a hand through my elbow and leads me towards the dining room, through a sliding glass door that looks out to a small patio. Platters of food are artfully arrayed alongside plates and cutlery on a table covered with a damask cloth, that flutters in the slight breeze. There's an oaken roof overhead, supported by four columns of identical material. Dad sits at the head of the table, black rimmed glasses perching on a hawk- like nose while he scrolls down what I assume to be his inbox on his smartphone. Max the Labrador retriever stretches his furry body on the paved floors, looking blissfully up at little Willow as she pats his silky snout. If she's here, then … Like an angel summoned out of my dreams, Lisa stands by the door, clutching wine glasses, a plum dress clinging to her willowy frame, emphasizing every curve and hollow. Bird wings flutter furiously where my heart used to be. Her delicately arched brows almost rise to her hairline, and her luscious mouth forms a startled 'o'. "Hello, Lisa." The last time I saw her, it was a year ago. Pale faced, and arrayed in all black with everyone else beside Keith's grave. She looks rosier now, luminous chestnut waves fanning out across her shoulders, but those sapphire eyes that once twinkled at me are now unreadable. "Damien." She acknowledges with a jut of her chin before striding past me to the table. The stab of a very familiar feeling impales the bird wings in my chest. It's been a year now. Guess she still wants us to act like we're familiar strangers. The exchange draws Dad's attention. He sneered at me from over the top of his glasses. "A lovely afternoon to you, Dad." I call. He positions his phone on the table and grunts. " I had no idea you were coming. Whatever happened to your precious job?" "Of course he'd be here, Demetrius." I didn't realize Mom had come back out after she went inside. "I invited him over for lunch. I haven't seen him since…" she falters. "Since Keith…" "It's okay, Mom." I scoot over to rub her back. It's not easy losing two sons. Keith and I used to have an elder brother, Killian. But he too died, two years before Keith's accident. "Let's go enjoy the food." "You need to understand he's all we have left," Mom continues even as I grab hold of her shoulders and steer her towards the table. Dad stares at her for a moment, eyes glassy behind his spectacles, or maybe I just imagined it, before he looks away. After grace was said, appetizers were served. A salad of spinach, with a sprinkle of peas and carrots. Willow, in a high chair beside her mother squirms, insisting on feeding herself. She has her father's pale gold hair - which is identical to mine - and the angry eyes that flashed at Lisa are definitely hers. " How's the restaurant going, Lisa? Flourishing, I presume." Dad spears a pea with a fork. Lisa offers a smile with the power to stop hearts. Dubbed 'Princess of Oakenville' by the locals, her famed, angelic beauty is the reason most of the patrons at her thriving restaurant, Duke's Table, consist of adoring fanboys, and why most women love to have her as a prime subject of their gossip. "Your presumption is indeed right. Did I mention there's a prospect of an interview with Women's Weekly? They want me to feature in a cover story." " Magnificent." Dad says. " While it's not anything near Times, you'll get there soon. Who wouldn't want an angel on their covers? Truly impressive, Lisa." However his glare is trained on me, the disgraceful son that dropped out of med school. I grab a glass of water and fiddle with it for a while before taking a big sip. It doesn't matter if I tried, I can never evade the shadow, will always remain eclipsed by my elder brother's success. Having followed in Dad's footsteps as a promising lawyer, it's no wonder Keith was his favourite. All my life I stumbled after him, but Dad wouldn't look my way, especially after I failed the examination that brought my journey as a doctor to a crashing, abrupt halt. That was when I quit trying to please him, and got conscripted into the US army, another career that was cut short when I got discharged from the military, for medical reasons I didn't want to disclose to my family, most especially to my mother. Lisa was just basking in her late husband's reflected glory, plus Dad's already taken a huge liking to her, having funded her restaurant as part of a wedding gift. It's not at all taxing to be fond of Lisa. That's what happens when you win the genetic lottery, from a striking Southern mother with Scottish roots and an estranged Vietnamese father. I lift my eyes from my plate to find Lisa watching me. As soon as our eyes meet, she quickly averts her gaze. Salad plates are replaced with the main course. Now this is more like it; a bed of wild rice and a side of baby carrots flavoured with maple syrup; gleaming chicken save for it's head and legs, a dressing of onion and celery, chestnuts and oysters, grilled trout between sides of miniature roasted potatoes and long green beans sprinkled with slivers of almond. Mom really went all out, I note with a grin. " I'm glad you like it, Damien." Mom grins back, contented with the gusto with which everyone else was tucking in. " I'll pack you some to take home with you. You too, Lisa. Enough to last till the next sunrise." " I do appreciate, Carla. But I'd like to take a little. By tomorrow morning I'll be on my way to Miami." " Wowww!" Mom dramatically draws out her w's. Dad raises his silver head at that. " I was invited by an aunt." She doesn't elaborate further. I take a big bite of my chicken. I too will be in Miami by tomorrow, but I don't mention it. There might not be chance our paths will cross. " That's wonderful of her. You get to spend some time outside Oakenville." Mom props up her cheek on her hands and sighs. " I'm jealous." Lisa laughs. " We both know you can fix that anytime you want." " While you're at that, I expect some new developments…" She winks. " In a male form too." Lisa fake- snorts. " By the way," Mum declares. " Who's up for some Merlot?"Lisa's POV I should have known Damien would show up today. When Carla called and said the lunch would be between "family", the word must have encompassed Damien too. Ugh, what do I mean? I sound so selfish. He's like their only son now. Just because I wished to avoid him doesn't mean Carla should be deprived of the opportunity to see her son. Yet I shouldn't have my heart leap and flutter at the sight of the man I want to keep at an arm's length. I dump the last plate atop the stack of other soiled platters and lift them up for the fifth trip to the kitchen, where Carla is rinsing off more cutlery sets to put in the dishwasher. "Set them over there, Lisa. Thank you." I put down the pile of dirty dishes on the counter near the sink. "Don't mention it, Carla. I'm happy to help." Even as I once swore to cut off anything that would remind me of my late husband, and start over someplace outside of Oakenville. I would move Duke's Table to the new location too. But I felt really ter
Lisa's POV When Selena sent me an invite to her wedding, I jumped at the opportunity to leave Oakenville, even if it's for a few days, away from the pity and scrutiny of townspeople. I can use the break too, after an aggressive devotion to the affairs of my business, to burying myself in work and leaving no room for intrusive thoughts. Willow yawns, and from the crook of my arm she observes the environs where we stand in front of the airport, like a king surveying his land from the top of his castle. Her blond short twin tails bob along with her head, and I dig my teeth down my lower lip at this momento of her father. I did not know what to feel when I gazed down at his unrecognizable body that day in the morgue, an hour after he had been fished out from the wreck that used to be his Porsche. Yet after his funeral, I was an automaton whose very first sensation was relief. I shake my head in an attempt to banish the thoughts before I fish through my handbag for my phone. Part of
Lisa's POV The holiday villa is just a ten-minute drive away from the resort, maybe fourteen if you decide to stroll your way there. Selena eases her car into the garage and kills the engine of her Mustang. "We're here. Finally." I alight from the car with Willow nestled in the crook of one arm and hoist my suitcase out of the trunk with my other hand. I stand before the enormous glass and white-walled mansion and breathe a sigh, marveled. "This must have cost a fortune." "Yep. I thought the same thing the first time I came here," Yvette concurs. "You both tell that to Wade." Selena smiles proudly. "Gimme that." She collects my bag from me and rolls it along beside her as we cross a covered swimming pool, and the wide front patio with two luxurious L-shaped couches surrounding a lilac table to get to the door. For some reason, Selena is trailing behind us, lugging my bag as though it's filled with three mountains. "Is the suitcase heavy?" I ask, glancing back. "Nev
Lisa's POV Damien turns around, and away from the wide window to glance at the door and whoever must have entered, clutching a half filled bottle of water with one hand, the other hand at his hip, and his eyes grow twice their size as his gaze alights on me. The tawny skin of his bare torso is bathed in sunlight, lighting up his concave abs, his big biceps. I saw Glenn shirtless a while ago downstairs, but he didn't inspire any lurch in my chest like Damien just did. His blond hair is wet and slicked back from his face, probably damp from shower. I have no idea for how long we've been standing this way, staring at each other. But when I open my mouth, an impulsive scream erupts from the pit of my stomach. "Aaaah…!" "What is that?" I hear Selena ask from the stairs. "Did you see a bogeyman?" That must be Glenn. Already thuds are sounding on the stairs. Someone is coming here. Damien notices, and quickly flies across the room to me and clamps his palm over my mouth, dropp
Lisa's POV "Hey, Cupcake!" Selena waves at me. "Get over here. I was beginning to think you'd hole up in your room all night." I see her fiery hair in the midst of the flower-and-grass-skirt-wearing dancing crowd, and make my way towards her. She is flanked by three brunettes, one of whom I recognize as Yvette. The others are sizing me up, sweeping glances from the top of my wavy ponytail to my polished passion pink toes. Selena grins, and adjusts the halo of flowers on top of her head. She is wearing an ivory dress with a spaghetti strap that hugged her body like a second skin, a plunging neckline, and three heart shaped cutouts all the way down the front of the dress that barely covered her bum, from her bust to her waist. She looks like a femme fatale on a mission to steal all hearts before sunrise. And with this phenomenal dress, she definitely will. "I came over as soon as I took Willow to the sitters. Great dress, Selena. You look amazing." "Thanks," Selena smiles. "You
Yvette's POV I slipped away from my friends as soon as I got the chance to, and right now I'm somewhere less noisy, somewhere closer to the shores, where I can listen to the sound of waves lapping and crashing against stones. It's not like I hate parties, or other people's company. It's just that this is one of those times where I'd rather sit in silence and read my one of favorite ebooks. No one will notice I'm gone anyway. They'll be too busy soaking up attention from men to care. This part of the beach is not as quiet as I imagined though. It's quite faraway from the main party venue, which means it's not illuminated by any tiki torches, only by the light of a full moon. Which also means some partygoers have chosen this place to be the site of intense make out sessions. The night air still carries strains of the traditional beach music as I pick my way in search of a comfortable place to sit, wincing as I hear moans and smooch sounds coming from a particular shadowed corner.
Damien's POV "Man, this is wild," Glenn comments, looking at the photo on his phone. That photo is basically what everyone is talking about and boy, do they have different versions of the story to entertain us with. The cheating tramp who left home with her kid to cavort with a lover. A runaway baby mama who stalks her ex-lover to Palm Paradise. And those aren't even the worst of them. The stories are so creative I could laugh. Except there's nothing hilarious about them. "And the comments were just so nasty. It's a good thing the picture was taken down," Matt put in beside me, raising his cup to his lips to take a swig of beer. Yeah, I bet. Nasty comments directed at an innocent woman who probably has no clue about this. Rage surges through my veins on her behalf. I wonder how this would be for Lisa, as society's usually harsher to the women in situations like this. If only I can get my hands on whoever uploaded that picture. I imagine putting my hands around their neck, squee
Lisa's POV I wake up to a ding from my phone at the bedside table. I yawn, then roll languidly to the side of my bed to pluck it up and squints at the screen. It's a W******p notification. Selena added me to a group called 'The Wedding Train'. With a string of all kind of emojis she could lay her fingers on attached. Bride emoji, love emojis. Brrr. Selena: Rise n' shine, bitches!!! Breakfast downstairs for everyone by 8! Jeremy: huh? TiffanySpicey: Okeydoke! I sit up quickly on my bed and rub my eyes. Sunlight is pouring in from the wide window that offers a terrific view of the sea and beautiful sunrise. I breathe, breathe, breathe in the salt breeze, then burrow back into my covers. I hadn't realized the pre-wedding getaway Selena had in mind involved everyone, including the groomsmen. Including Damien. I don't feel up to eating with them right now. Especially after that stunt Damien pulled on me last night. "What the hell was that for?" I whirled on him the moment we left
Lisa's POV "I heard there's a really good ice cream shop around here," Leigh is saying from behind the steering wheel of Selena's Mustang, while I'm sitting in the passanger's seat with Willow in my laps, wondering why in the world Leigh chose to drag me along with her. "What a way to combat all this sun, am I right?" I couldn't agree more. Even my hair is beginning to frizz up from the humidity. But the pool should have been much more better. "So why did it have to be me?" I moan out loud. Willow yips in agreement. I should have been lazily lounging around in the pool with others. Or having a nap. Not moving around on a hot day like this in search of an ice cream shop. "Everyone else is… busy?" Leigh turns left, manoeuvring the steering wheel with one hand while slipping strands of her brown hair behind one ear with the other hand. "Consider this a thank you outing for Willow, for letting me borrow one of her storybooks. You're just tagging along." "Who says my dau
Glenn's POV I watch Yvette attack the tub of ice cream it seemed like she forgot it existed. She reminds me of Skylar in many ways. The obvious love for food. The round cheeks. The big eyes. The cuteness. Yvette and Skylar both have these in common. I used to like watching Skylar eat. She made the simple act of filling her mouth with tuna sandwich the sexiest and most fun thing to watch. Wait a minute, what? Why am I thinking of something like this now? Even before we all came together in this holiday villa for Wade and Selena's pre-wedding vacation, I've known Yvette Jones. I've met her multiple times in the gaming software company where Wade works as a director. And in those times, we always end up exchanging banters. Why did she not remind me of Skylar then? Why now? There's a smear of ice cream beside her lips. I should pretend I didn't see it. "You have a bit of ice cream beside your mouth," I'm already saying in spite of myself. "Let me get it for you." I lean
Yvette's POVWhat the hell is wrong with me?! I stomp to the kitchen and collapse into the stool next to the granite island. Jeremy isn't my boyfriend. I'm at fault for having a crush on him in the first place. I'm at fault for mistaking him for a prince charming, for allowing him to sweep me off my feet the night of that luau party. It should not be any business of mine if he decides to date someone else instead. If he decides that all he wants to do is make out with her in front of everyone. But it does hurt. My heart is cracked open, and it hurts like a knife wound to my chest. Hot tears sting the back of my eyes, but I squeeze them back by pinching my nose between my thumb and forefinger and counting to ten on a deep exhalation through my mouth. Don't cry, I tell myself. Don't cry. Jeremy doesn't care if you do. Right now he's only interested in his new lover. I hear approaching footsteps and lurch to my feet, checking my eyes on the reflective screen of my phone
Glenn's POV Damien was once my most favorite person. He used to be my best friend. We met when we were eight years old, during a housewarming party both of our fathers attended, and automatically drifted towards each other in the crowd filled with boring old people, busy with champagne and boring old people's talk. We played hide and seek that day within the new mansion our fathers' mutual friend just built, and accidentally, I pushed down a huge Ming dynasty vase. While everyone else made a huge fuss about the decorative item that they said cost more than a first-class ticket to the Maldives, Damien stood by me, and we bore the punishment together. We were both grounded throughout the holidays. And when I met him again in grade school, I knew instantly we would be great friends. Friends that will always have each other's backs. We both had wealthy fathers, so he was equally familiar with the perks and demerits that came with it. If only I can meet that eight year old me and give him
Yvette's POV I can't stop thinking about yesterday. "Everything all right, Yvette?" Leigh tips herself towards me to peer in my face. We've just had breakfast, and I'm lounging outside beside the pool with Leigh. Her hair is set in multicolored rollers, and with her Versace sunglasses perched at the bridge of her pert nose, and her mouth painted a dark red, Leigh looks every inch a formidable queen, half as formidable as Queen Charlotte looks in the Bridgerton series, her long legs folded carefully under her like a gazelle. She is wearing a crisp white shirt over her blue swimsuit. "Yeah, of course." I look over at the swimming pool. There were gasps and moans coming from here last night, and when I peeked to see who the sources of the noise were, it turned out to be Damien and Lisa. It was so passionate, though I couldn't bear to look any further while imagining it was Jeremy and I. No wonder the mood today during breakfast was significantly better than it was last night. Almos
Ally Rose's POV While in the shower, I scrub my hair in utter frustration. Truthfully, I arrived at my uncle's villa without the knowledge it's being rented out for the summer. Because I have the keys to the front door, and because my benevolent, wealthy uncle, Maurice Singer, granted me access to his luxurious beach house at anytime I desire to crash at the place, I took advantage of my annual leave at my uncle's firm and hopped into the next available flight to Miami right after ending my relationship of three weeks with a really cute doctor, hoping to have the entire house to myself. It was Selena I met first the minute I set foot in the house. She was at the kitchen island, nursing a cup of coffee meditatively and staring out the window at the approaching sunrise when I rolled in my suitcase. After she learned of my identity, the kind lady had no qualms with letting me stay for some time, bless her heart. I believe it's the universe that let me come over to Palm Paradise. If I di
Lisa's POV Fireworks explode in my chest when his soft mouth meets my lips, tentative and gentle at first, though it inspires the opposite reaction in my heart. I can almost feel the beating against my ribcage. It isn't our first kiss, though it's different. It is the first kiss that's ours, and i savor it for long moments. Damien pulls back and catches his breath, as if the kiss took him by surprise, then presses against me again. The second assault is shockingly sensual too. It slams into me, defeats all my senses. It's almost appalling how much I want this. How much I want to feel his hands all over me. I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. He stands against the wall of the pool, with my body tight against him. His hand slides low, down to my ass, and he squeezes roughly. I gasp into his mouth, and he plunges his tongue deeper into my mouth. Our tongue war and collide, the tips circling one another. "How about this for criminal evidence?" He whisp
Damien's POV "Lisa." She turns sharply, and exhales when she sees it's me. She attempts a small smile that still brightened her face in an instant. I suck in a breath at how beautiful she is. "Damien. Hi." "Hello." I settle down beside her and deep my own feet into the pool. The water is a little bit on the icy cold side, but I think that's just what I want. "What are you doing out here alone?" "I don't know. Stargazing?" I glance up at the starless sky. "Yeah right. The stars are exceptionally pretty today. Look at that big one over there." I grab the base of her ponytail and shake her head from side to side. "You moron," she laughs, smacking my bicep. It's a far cry from the fake laughter I just listened to moments ago. Lisa doesn't laugh as daintily as you might think she does because of her ethereal looks. It's a boisterous kind of laugh that sometimes sounds weird, but it's like music to my ears nonetheless. I can listen to her laugh all day. And stare at her forev
Damien's POV Willow is asleep. I'd just taken her to Lisa's room and barricaded her with several pillows so she won't roll off the bed, a trick I picked up from some random TikTok video. Now I open the door and step out to find Ally Rose in front of me. She smiles at me. The kind of dollish smile that curves her lips in an almost 'U' and pushes up her cheekbones. She looks so different from the last time I saw her. Thinner, and prettier. Fortunately, her wonderful makeover has absolutely no effect on me. "Hey, Damien," Ally Rose simpers. "It's really been long." Back at Tennessee, when I'd been dispatched with my team to provide security at a charity event, she offered this same smile at the bar where I and my colleagues came to cool off. I found it charming then. Now I find it distasteful. I close Lisa's door behind me. "Has it?" "Yes, duh." Ally Rose disregards my attempt at a rebuff with a flick of her delicate wrist. "I've been meaning to talk to you."