Eight
1096 Words
Grace’s POV
My chest was still pounding as I paced my room, back and forth, back and forth.
Did he recognize me?
No. No, he couldn’t have. If Damien truly knew who I was, he would’ve dragged me back to his room for interrogation—not just stared like he’d seen a ghost.
I needed to calm down. This wasn’t real. Maybe he was just surprised.
He’d never touched me before… not as a maid.
My hands shook. If I kept thinking about it, I’d spiral into a full panic attack.
My phone buzzed.
I nearly screamed.
He was calling.
I glanced out the window. Damien was already sitting on the yacht, white shirt clinging to his shoulders, navy board shorts hanging low on his hips. His phone pressed to his ear, brows knitted impatiently.
I answered anyway.
“What do you want?” I snapped.
“Why are you always in a bad mood?” he said, smirking when he spotted me through the window. “Frustrated sexually, perhaps?”
I moaned on the phone. Loudly.
“Sorry, what?”
His smirk dropped into something darker, sharper.
“Don’t mess with me, baby.”
I moaned again, exaggerated. “Ah, f*ck. Yes, yes! Right there!”
His expression twisted into disbelief, then amusement, then irritation.
“You’re faking it,” he muttered. “That’s not how you c*m.
Wow. Is it small?”
I hung up.
His laugh echoed from below the window, loud enough to make my entire face burn.
What was I doing?
What was I doing with my boss?
~*~*~*~
Madam Eve called me right after I finished packing. She said I was allowed to swim on the island after serving the Valentinis. I wasn’t much of a swimmer, but… maybe a quick dip. Maybe something for myself.
During the ride, I stayed as far from Damien as physically possible. He wasn’t in the mood when we boarded the yacht—jaw tight, fingers curled around his phone so hard his knuckles were white.
I exhaled only when we reached the island.
And God… it was worth every second.
The water was crystal clear, revealing reefs and flashes of color from fish below. White sand stretched endlessly, caves carved into the edges like secrets, and a green forest crowned the center of the island. Mr. Valentini wasn’t exaggerating—you had to see it to believe it.
The Valentinis discussed business—pointing here and there on the shoreline, planning and envisioning. Madam Eve was the one who finally broke the spell.
“Maybe you should talk onshore while we prepare?”
Mr. Fidele agreed. He helped Madam Eve down the yacht.
Damien helped me.
He didn’t look at me once, just held out his hand. I thanked him softly.
He ignored that too.
After preparing their lunch, Madam Eve excused me to take my dip.
Out of respect—and to avoid Damien like he was a burning stove—I walked to the far, secluded side of the beach. A huge rock separated it from the others. It felt like I had the entire island to myself.
I pulled off my shirt and long skirt, revealing my only and favorite yellow two-piece bikini.
I took a quick selfie for Kate. Wish you were here. miss u!! xx
Then I ran into the water.
The ocean was cool against my skin, the sun warm on my face. Perfection. God, I missed swimming in the sea.
The water was clear enough to see sea turtles drifting near me. I lingered there for a few minutes, soaking everything in, before heading back to my things.
The sand was hot, so I spread my shirt and skirt and lay on my stomach to tan.
Just a few minutes, I told myself.
Just a little nap.
I closed my eyes.
~*~*~*~
Cold droplets hit my legs.
One.
Two.
Then a trail slid down my back.
Rain?
I jerked upright.
And froze.
“Sir Damien,” I blurted—kneeling in front of him in my tiny yellow bikini.
He looked… unreadable. A little stunned. More than a little pleased.
“I didn’t realize you tan this… thoroughly,” he said.
My face went up in flames. “I—I fell asleep accidentally. I wasn’t… I didn’t—”
“Clearly.”
He crouched beside me, water dripping from his hair onto my shoulder.
“Does it hurt?” he asked quietly.
Before I could answer, his fingers brushed my back.
I hissed.
He inhaled. Slowly.
“You’re burned.”
His hand lingered. Too long to be professional. Too long to be innocent.
“I—I can take care of it myself, Sir,” I said, fumbling for my clothes.
And before he could add anything else, I ran.
Fast.
My heart wouldn’t slow down.
What the hell was that?
~*~*~*
When we got back to Mr. Fidele’s, I ran straight to the bathroom. I needed aloe—now.
I whimpered when my shirt stuck to my skin, peeling painfully when I tried to remove it. I stripped it off and tossed it aside.
“There’s gotta be something,” I muttered, voice cracking as I dug through the cabinet. “Come on…”
The door opened behind me and shut again.
“Here.”
I froze.
Damien.
I turned halfway. “Sorry— I’ll leave—”
“Turn around.”
Before I could react, he took my wrist gently—but firmly—and guided me to face away from him.
Shouldn’t I protest?
But the moment his fingers touched me, my body stopped listening to reason.
All I heard was the soft pop of the bottle cap and our breaths—too close, too uneven.
Did he realize it was me? That night? Did he finally put the pieces together?
My body stiffened.
No. If he knew… he would’ve said something. He always says something.
Cold gel touched my skin.
I flinched.
He slowed down, almost tender, smoothing the aloe across my back. His touch moved deliberately lower, tracing the redness, stopping just above the curve of my butt.
His fingers hesitated there—like he was debating a line neither of us should cross.
Then he reached my thigh.
I grabbed his wrist.
“I’ll do it, sir. Thank you.”
I turned to face him.
And his expression—
God.
I didn’t know what it was.
Surprise.
Restraint.
Want.
Conflict.
All mixed into something he couldn’t hide.
Something that terrified me… and pulled me in at the same time.
- Writer
