CHAPTER 4 Ripples & Distractions
1079 Words
The ocean was mercilessly beautiful that morning—vast, restless, and shimmering silver beneath the sun. Alejandro stood at the shoreline with his surfboard tucked under one arm, the wind tugging through his dark hair as adrenaline hummed quietly in his veins. Beside him, Damian waited with his usual composed stance, sunglasses hiding whatever calculations simmered behind his eyes.
“Perfect waves today,” Damian remarked.
Alejandro only hummed, his gaze unfocused.
He wasn’t thinking about the waves. He was thinking about her.
The small, fierce waitress with fire burning behind her eyes.
Meisha.
Her face kept flashing in his mind like a stubborn ember that refused to die—her soft lips, the sharp tongue, the way she stood her ground against a man twice her size. A girl with no power, yet she carried herself like someone whose spirit couldn’t be bent.
It was… inconvenient.
He shouldn’t be intrigued by someone like her. He shouldn’t be watching her in his thoughts.
And yet he was.
They surfed for nearly an hour, the water cold, clean, and punishing. Alejandro glided through the waves with practiced ease, but even the ocean—his sanctuary—failed to wash away the phantom of that girl’s presence.
When they finally settled on their boards, letting the tide sway them gently, Damian cleared his throat in that pointed way of his.
“About the report from Spain,” he began. “Our men confirmed the Valdez family hasn’t backed down. They’re preparing retaliation.”
Alejandro gave no response.
Damian’s brows lifted behind his shades. “Alejandro.”
Still nothing.
Damian flicked water at him. “Boss.”
Alejandro blinked, slow and reluctant, as though pulling himself out of a daydream.
Damian stared at him in disbelief. “You didn’t hear a single word I said, did you?”
Alejandro clenched his jaw, annoyed at being caught.
“Repeat it.”
“No,” Damian said flatly. “You tell me what’s on your mind first. Because I’ve never seen you drift off like this—not in a meeting, not during a shootout, and definitely not while surfing.”
Alejandro stayed silent.
Damian smirked. “Is it about that waitress? The tiny angry one?”
A muscle in Alejandro’s cheek twitched.
“I knew it,” Damian muttered triumphantly.
Alejandro finally spoke, voice sharp and low. “She’s irrelevant.”
“Uh-huh. Which is why you’ve been spaced out for the last thirty minutes thinking about her.”
Alejandro turned his board toward shore, ending the conversation.
“Let’s head in.”
Damian followed, but his grin only grew wider.
Because Alejandro De La Vega—the cold, untouchable, disciplined Alejandro—had never been distracted by a woman in his life.
And yet here they were.
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Across town…
Meisha hurried out of her morning class and shoved her notebook into her bag. Fifteen minutes until her shift at the villa resort. Barely enough time—but enough for a detour her heart insisted on taking.
Her feet carried her to a small café tucked in a quiet corner of the street. The bell chimed softly as she stepped inside.
Warm lights. Roasted coffee. Jazz humming low.
Behind the counter, Choi San stood with his sleeves rolled up, dark hair falling over his forehead as he polished a glass. When he looked up and saw her, his whole face brightened.
“Mei..” he greeted, smiling a little too warmly. “The usual?”
“You already know,” she said with a small laugh.
He moved with a smooth grace, preparing her iced coffee exactly how she liked it—half sweet, extra ice, a splash of cream. He always remembered. He always noticed. He always cared too much.
“How’s class?” he asked.
“The usual. Assignments and professors pretending they’re not trying to kill us.”
San chuckled. “You look tired.”
“I’m a working student, San. ‘Tired’ is part of the package.”
He slid the drink toward her, his fingers brushing hers—accidentally, or maybe not.
“Mei…” he said softly.
Her chest tightened.
She knew that tone.She dreaded that tone.
“I just…” San exhaled, eyes gentle. “I worry about you. You work two jobs, you barely sleep, and you pretend everything’s fine even when it clearly isn’t.”
Meisha looked away, her smile strained. “I’m okay. Really.”
“I just wish,” he said quietly, “you’d let someone take care of you.”
Guilt tightened around her ribs.
Because she knew. She knew exactly what he felt. And she couldn’t return it.
“San…” she whispered.
“You’re important to me. You are. But—”
“But not in the way I want.” His smile trembled.
She couldn’t deny it. She wouldn’t lie to him.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
But San shook his head gently.
“You don’t need to apologize. I’ll always be here. Even if you never choose me.”
His sincerity hurt more than it comforted.
She withdrew her hand carefully. “I have to go. I’ll be late.”
“Stay safe, Mei.”
“Always.”
She stepped outside and inhaled deeply as the door shut behind her. She hated emotional conversations—especially the kind that left a heaviness she didn’t know how to shake off.
##################
Back at the resort…
Meisha crossed the villa courtyard, iced coffee in hand, when two familiar figures appeared in her peripheral vision.
Alejandro and Damian.
Both dressed sharply—Alejandro in a fitted black shirt and tailored pants, Damian with a crisp button-up and a tablet tucked under his arm—walking out from the restaurant area. They moved with an effortless precision that didn’t belong to tourists.
More like men accustomed to giving orders. Not receiving them.
Alejandro’s gaze drifted toward her.
Just a glance.
But it stole the air from her lungs.
Something unreadable flickered in his eyes—danger, intensity, something she didn’t know how to name. Something that made her throat dry.
She looked away immediately.
Nope. Absolutely not. She didn’t need trouble. She didn’t need men like that.
And that man screamed trouble in every language she knew.
Entering the staff building, she muttered to herself, “Focus, Mei. Work. No distractions.”
But for the first time in a long while…
She wasn’t sure she believed her own words.
- Writer
