Chapter 2

Sara

It has been three months since the break up with Jason.

Three. Long. Dragging months and yet, his face and that of the Jezelbelic witch of the west of a fiancee has refused to fade.

Their engagement photos hunts me on front covers of newspapers, their relationship gossips makes blogs headlines on the internet. Their couple goals and interviews airs on TV screens in airport lounges and stores.

Even the radio! The radio of all things sings their names like a cursed lullaby the universe insists I hear.

Everywhere I look, Everywhere I turn. They were there.

Happy. Golden. Hunting.

While I, the miserable Ex, locks myself in my apartment. My curtains drawn, buried in work that I barely remember how the sun looks like.

Right now, I hunch over a mountain of client documents, communicating with my agency manager, Sandra, who talks to me via a video call on my laptop screen.

"You are taking a break, Sara," she suddenly declares and I blink, my brows narrowing,

"What?"

"You are overworking yourself," she says, "You will burn out at this rate."

"But—" I try to protest. She cuts me off with a wave of a manicured finger.

"No buts. The decision is made and I am not changing my mind."

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose, "I am not complaining, Sandra. I need the wor—"

"Which," she cuts in, "is exactly why you are taking a break. Two weeks. Minimum."

I flop backward on my hotel bed, letting out a deep grunt, "Sandra—"

"A very big client is coming in two weeks. And I need you, my best creative marketing agent, at full capacity," she says, an amused grin sitting on her lips.

My eyes sharpen. "Big client? Who?"

She laughs, "I can't tell you. But rest assured, he is the CEO of one of the biggest companies in the country."

"Come on, girl, tell me who he is," I whine like a snorty princess.

"That information darling," she taps on the screen, "will be revealed to you when you meet the client in person."

My face drops, "Person? Hello, digital era?"

"Sorry to break it to you. But this client is more of a traditional person and is really skeptical when it comes to anything technology especially social media. You have to start zeroing your mind on any stuff virtual meeting. Besides, the client is paying a lot for our trouble."

I squint my eyes, "How big is a lot?"

"Trripleee." She sings and I jerk upright so hard my laptop nearly flies off the bed, "What?! Triple? My cut would be almost—"

"Close to a million," she finishes the sentence, twirling at the screen, "The year has just barely started and you are already on the path to becoming a millionaire. So darling, breathe. And for God's sake, enjoy the vacation. I did not pay fifty thousand dollars on one of the most expensive hotels in the country for you to waste."

"Sandra—"

She hangs up before I can finish.

I stare at the screen, still stunned. Close to a million? Heck! That amount is enough to feed my bills for a year if I stopped working.

Lord!!! I twirl, My heart fluttering. Are you finally rearranging things for me in my favour?!

I hop off the bed, my grey morbid world finally seeing some color.

"Okay, vacation," I squeal, "Let's do this."

I slip into my bikini, tie a scarf around my waist, smooth my hair into something resembling confidence, and grin at myself in the mirror.

Today, I choose joy.

Today, Dunderhead Jason doesn't exist.

Downstairs, the receptionist smiles at me politely.

"Hi. Is there any relaxation spots available?"i ask.

"Yes, ma'am. Please present your key card."

I hand it over. She types… stops… then her mouth shapes into a surprised oh as if she just realizes something.

"Miss Sara Jane?" She asks, flashing me a weird smile.

"Yes?"

She gives me the smile again and I tilt my head at her, confused.

"Do not worry, Ma'am. An attendant will be here to take you to,"

She winks at me, "The place."

I narrow my brow, making to ask what she meant by "the place", but then the attendant arrives, smiling.

"Right this way, miss," he gestures.

I stare at the receptionist and then the attendant and decide to ignore, shaking my head at whatever weirdness was going on.

I follow the attendant through winding outdoor hallways until the scenery opens up into a private pool deck.

And boy….. was it stunning.

The palm trees swaying, the Sunlight glittering like diamonds across the pool, the air smelling of citrus and salt.

It was paradise.

"Enjoy yourself," the attendant beams before slipping away, giving me the same smile as the receptionist.

Was there something going on? Or was this just premium hospitality.

"Who cares," I shrug, "Probably some overzealous hotel staff trying to impress guests for tips."

I take a step inside the enclosure and stop dead.

Because there, bare chested, sitting on one of the benches, backing me was a man. Towering. Broad. Built like a storm wrapped in skin.

A cigarette dangles between his fingers and smoke puffs from his mouth like a dark halo.

His posture is relaxed, powerful. But, there's something dangerous simmering beneath it. Something commanding. Something that pulls me to him whether I like it or not.

Who… is he?

Before I can blink, his voice cuts through the air. Rough and impatient, low enough to vibrate in my bones.

"Well, what the hell are you waiting for?! I don't have all day."

I freeze, cold chill sweeping through me.

He doesn't even look at me yet.

"Erm… I—"

"Why the hell are you stuttering?" he snaps, finally turning his head slightly. "Aren't you the girl Jack booked?"

Booked?

Booked?

My breath catches, but not because of the words.

But because he turns fully at me, his towel slipping down from his waist. A thick, veins stretched, mouth filling, brown chocolate, half risen member staring back at me, throbbing.

Extra long. Extra hard.