Chapter2
955 Words
Chapter 2: Storms Inside
*Marisol's POV*
I dropped the phone. It clattered on Elena's kitchen floor.
"Mija?" Elena's voice seemed far away. "Are you okay?"
Marcus had found me. After three months of silence, of starting over, of pretending I could escape what he did to me. My hands wouldn't stop shaking.
"I need air," I managed.
I ran outside, past the perfect pool, past the empty loungers, until I hit the beach. The sand was still warm from the day. I fell to my knees and tried to breathe. In through my nose. Out through my mouth. The therapist's voice in my head.
"You're having a panic attack."
I looked up. Julian stood there, hands in his pockets, watching me like I was a problem to solve.
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not." He sat down in the sand next to me. In his expensive pants. "Focus on something real. The ocean. Count the waves."
"How do you…"
"Count."
His voice was different. Softer. I counted. One wave. Two. Three. My breathing slowed.
"Better?"
I nodded, embarrassed. "Thank you."
"Who called you?"
"Nobody important."
"People don't run to the beach over nobody." He picked up a handful of sand, let it fall through his fingers. "Your ex?"
I stared at him. "How did you know?"
"You have that look. Like someone who's been broken by someone they trusted." He stood, brushed off his pants. "Come with me."
"Where?"
"You need to eat. And I need to explain some things about this place."
We walked along the beach as the sun started to set. The sky turned orange and pink. Beautiful and sad at the same time.
"Coral Haven has security," he said. "Cameras. Guards. Nobody gets on this island without my knowledge."
"You're saying I'm safe here?"
"I'm saying if someone tries to hurt you here, they'll have to go through me first."
The words should have sounded like a boss protecting an employee. They didn't.
We ended up at a small restaurant on the far side of the resort. Empty like everything else. Julian went behind the bar and started pulling out bottles.
"You cook?"
"I will survive." He cracked eggs into a pan. "Scrambled eggs. Toast. Nothing fancy."
"It's perfect."
We ate in silence for a while. The eggs were good. Simple. Real.
"Your mother," I said finally. "She left me a note."
His jaw tightened. "Of course she did."
"She wants me to help you remember how to feel."
He laughed, but it wasn't funny. "My mother thinks she knows what's best for everyone. She doesn't."
"What happened? With the scandal?"
He set down his fork. "You don't know?"
"I know there was something in the papers. That's all."
He stood, walked to the window. The moon was rising over the water.
"Her name was Sophia. We dated for two years. I thought..." He shook his head. "Doesn't matter what I thought. She was sleeping with a competitor. Feeding him information about my deals. When I found out, she sold our private conversations to the tabloids. Made me look like a fool."
"That's awful."
"That's business." He turned back to me. "Emotion is weakness. Caring is vulnerable. I learned that lesson well."
"That's not living. That's just existing."
"It's safer."
I stood up, walked over to him. "Is it? You're alone in this perfect place, surrounded by beauty you can't even see anymore. How is that safe?"
"I see it," he said quietly. "I see everything."
The way he looked at me made my skin feel too tight.
"I should go," I said. "Early morning tomorrow."
"Marisol." My name on his lips stopped me. "Whatever you're running from, you don't have to face it alone."
"Neither do you."
I left before he could respond.
Back in my room, I found three missed calls from Marcus. No messages. He was trying to scare me. It was working.
I opened my laptop and looked up the scandal Julian mentioned. The headlines were brutal. "Billionaire's Bedroom Secrets Exposed." "Julian Davenport: Fool in Love." Photos of him trying to cover his face while reporters swarmed.
One quote stood out: "I thought I could have it all; success and love. I was wrong."
No wonder he'd turned to ice.
My phone rang again. This time, I answered.
"Stop calling me, Marcus."
"I have a proposition for you, Mari."
"We have nothing to talk about."
"Really? Not even the fact that I know who your new boss is? Not even the fact that I know some things about Julian Davenport that could destroy what's left of his reputation?"
My blood went cold. "You're lying."
"Remember that investor I introduced you to last year? Thomas Kensington? He has a history with your new boyfriend."
"He's not my…"
"Please. I saw how he looked at you in those photos from this afternoon."
"What photos?"
Marcus laughed. "Check your email, baby. And think about my offer. Help me get what I want from Davenport, or I release everything I know. You have forty-eight hours."
He hung up.
I opened my email with trembling fingers. There it was. A photo of Julian and me on the beach, him sitting next to me in the sand. His hand reaching toward mine. The angle made it look intimate. More than it was.
Or maybe exactly what it was.
A knock at my door made me jump.
"It's Julian. Open up."
I opened the door. He stood there with his phone in his hand, his face carved from stone.
"We have a problem," he said, showing me his screen.
The same photo. But this time with a subject line: "This is just the beginning."
Our eyes met, and I saw something I didn't expect.
Fear.
- Writer
