DAISY POV...
I wasn't supposed to be nervous.
It was just a walk to deck three.
Just a small talk with a man I barely knew.
Just fresh air. Just distraction. Just a harmless little break from the chaos in my head — the chaos Damien put there.
But my hands wouldn't stay still.
My steps were too soft.
My heart wouldn't listen.
Every time the wind brushed my skin, all I could think of was the way Damien's eyes had burned through me earlier that morning — that split-second where we both froze outside our rooms, staring at each other like we were standing on the edge of something dangerous.
Something forbidden.
Something we couldn't take back.
I told myself he didn't mean it.
That I'd imagined it.
That I'd only seen what I wanted to see.
But now, heading toward the deck…
I wasn't so sure.
The ocean breeze hit me first, warm and salty and soothing. Deck three was quiet except for the soft hum of engines and the glow of fairy lights wrapped around the railings.
Decker stood waiting near a small table, leaning casually with his hands in his pockets.
He looked… unreal.
Tall. Confident.
Kind eyes.
Easy smile.
Everything I should want.
Everything that didn't make my stomach twist the way Damien did.
"Daisy," he greeted, his smile softening as he walked closer. "I wasn't sure you'd actually come."
"I wasn't sure either," I admitted, cheeks warm.
He laughed — a low, friendly sound.
"Then I'm honored."
We sat down, and the conversation slipped into motion almost too easily.
Too gently.
Too safe.
He talked about travel, about his ships, about growing up near the ocean. He talked like he wasn't trying to impress me — just share himself.
And for the first time in days, I felt myself relax.
Just a little.
"Tell me about you," he said. "What do you love?"
My breath hitched.
No one ever asked that.
Not Mother, who loved Lola's answers.
Not Lola, who turned everything I liked into a competition.
Not Damien, who—
Stop.
I pushed the thought away.
"I love music," I said softly. "Piano, mostly."
His eyes brightened. "Do you play often?"
"When I can."
"Someday," he said with a warm smile, "I'd love to hear you."
I smiled back, small and shy, even though my heart was racing way too fast for a normal compliment.
A breeze rustled my hair and I pushed the strands behind my ear — habit, nerves, everything tangled together.
And then—
I felt it.
Not heard. Not saw.
Felt.
Like someone's gaze had touched my skin.
My body stiffened, instantly aware.
Like heat spreading across the back of my neck, down my spine.
I turned my head—
And there, in the shadows across the deck, I saw a shape.
A broad frame.
Silent.
Still.
Watching.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Him?
No.
It couldn't be.
Why would he—
But the height, the build, the way the night itself seemed to fold around him—
It was him.
Damien.
My breath caught.
For one split, blinding second, our eyes locked through the darkness.
Or at least… I felt like they did.
I blinked, and he was unreadable — swallowed by shadows again.
But he didn't leave.
Didn't move.
Just… watched.
A sharp ache bloomed in my chest.
Why was he here? Why was he watching me talk to another man? Why did it feel like electricity was crawling over my skin now that I knew he was near?
Decker's voice pulled me back.
"Daisy?" He leaned in slightly. "Are you okay?"
I swallowed and nodded quickly. "Yeah—yes. Sorry. I just… thought I heard something."
He didn't question it, thankfully.
But Damien didn't move either.
He stayed.
He watched.
And every part of me grew hyperaware — my posture, my words, the way my heart pounded harder each time Decker smiled.
I hated that Damien's presence affected me this much.
Hated that I kept wondering what his face looked like behind that darkness.
Hated that his silence felt louder than any conversation I'd had all week.
Decker leaned forward, his voice turning softer.
"Daisy… you're beautiful."
My breath faltered.
It wasn't that no one had ever said it.
It was just that no one had ever said it this gently.
This tenderly.
This sincerely.
A wave of warmth spread across my cheeks. "Thank you… that's kind."
I tucked my hair behind my ear again — a nervous reflex I suddenly hated, because it made me feel so exposed.
And somewhere behind me?
I felt Damien's stare sharpen.
Like he was burning holes through the table.
Decker reached across and held my hand, thumb brushing lightly over my knuckles.
My heart thudded once — hard.
And somewhere in the shadows, something shifted.
A footstep? A sharp inhale? A pulse of anger?
I wasn't sure.
But the energy changed.
Thickened.
Darkened.
Decker continued softly, unaware of the silent storm watching us.
"I don't usually say things like this," he said. "But I believe in… instant connection. And I haven't stopped thinking about you since I saw you."
I froze.
He leaned closer.
"I like you, Daisy. A lot. Maybe more than I should already."
My lips parted soundlessly.
Across the deck, the shadows shifted again — like someone taking a step back.
I glanced toward the darkness instinctively—
But the figure wasn't there.
He was already leaving.
Walking away.
My chest tightened painfully.
Decker's thumb brushed my cheek.
The moment was soft, sweet, warm —
But why did it feel like something inside me had just cracked open?
Why did watching Damien turn away hurt more than Decker's touch soothed?
Why did it feel like losing something?
Something I wasn't allowed to want.
Something I wouldn't admit out loud.
Not even to myself.
Decker kept talking — something about meeting again, something about liking me — but my thoughts weren't fully there anymore.
My gaze stayed fixed on the empty shadows Damien had disappeared into.
Gone.
Just like that.
And all I could think was:
Did he come here for me?
Did he watch the whole time?
Was he angry? Jealous? Hurt?
Did he see more than he should've?
Did he see enough to walk away?
Decker squeezed my hand gently, pulling me back.
"You okay?"
I forced a smile.
"I'm fine," I whispered, even though my chest felt too tight to breathe.
But inside?
Inside I was spiraling.
Because Decker was handsome.
Kind.
Attentive.
And yet—
I couldn't stop thinking about Damien disappearing into the darkness like the sight of me with another man broke something in him.
And I hated — truly hated — how much that mattered to me.