Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Deanna

D r. Deanna Fowler gazed out of the airplane window, watching the sun glint off the sparkling waters of the Mediterranean as the plane descended toward Crete. The turquoise-blue seas stretched endlessly beneath her, promising days filled with exploration, discovery, and the thrill of the unknown. Her heart raced with excitement, a feeling that had been building ever since she'd received funding for this expedition.

Finally, she thought, leaning back in her seat. All those long nights in the lab, analyzing data, writing papers, defending her theories—it had all led her to this. A new chapter in her research. A new chance to prove her work. She'd spent years studying the effects of environmental changes on marine ecosystems, and now, the Mediterranean would be her living laboratory. There was so much left to uncover, and she was determined to make her mark.

But even with the thrill of her work at the forefront of her mind, she couldn't stop her thoughts from drifting back to him.

Nash Maddox.

The memory hit her as vividly as if that night in London had happened yesterday. The heat of his hands on her skin, the low growl of his voice in her ear, the way he looked at her like he could see straight through to her soul. It had been impulsive, out of character for her—Deanna Fowler was always so composed, so disciplined—but Nash had a way of igniting something inside her that she hadn't known existed.

She could still picture his intense blue eyes, full of passion and mystery, the way his lips had curved into that roguish smile just before he'd kissed her. It had been reckless, but she couldn't help but smile at the memory. A one-night stand, sure, but she had never been able to forget it—or him.

Shaking herself out of the daydream, Deanna forced her focus back to the present and to the real reason she was here. This was her chance to dive into the most ambitious research project of her career, not to get lost in memories of a man she had no business thinking about. And yet, the pull of that night lingered at the edges of her mind.

She pulled her journal from her bag and opened it, flipping through her notes on the project to distract herself. Her excitement returned as she skimmed the pages, filled with detailed sketches of coral reefs and plans for underwater surveys. But then her thoughts shifted to something more troubling.

Her last paper had caused a stir—a paper detailing how climate change was affecting marine biodiversity in ways that big industries didn't want to acknowledge. She had faced pushback before, but this time, it had been more than just academic disagreements. There had been threats—anonymous emails warning her to stop her research, veiled threats about her safety. The university had been concerned, though Deanna had tried to brush it off as the usual resistance that came with challenging powerful interests.

That was, until she received a call from the dean just a few days before her departure.

The memory was still fresh in her mind. She'd been in her office, reviewing logistics for the trip when the dean's number had flashed on her phone. His voice had been grave, the concern evident as he explained the situation.

"Deanna, I don't want to alarm you, but there's been some chatter. About the threats. Some of it seems more credible than we initially thought."

Her stomach had tightened, but she tried to laugh it off. "Credible? You think someone's actually going to act on them?"

"We don't know for sure, but I'm not taking any chances. I've called in a favor from an old friend—a man who works for an organization that deals with… these sorts of things."

"These sorts of things?" she'd echoed, frowning. The whole conversation had felt surreal. "What kind of organization are we talking about?"

There'd been a pause on the other end of the line, as if the dean were carefully choosing his words. "A high security, intelligence and black ops group known as Cerberus."

Deanna had felt a jolt of recognition at the name. Deanna knew Cerberus was no ordinary protection firm. It wasn't even something you could call private. The shadowy organization handled the dirty work no one else wanted to touch, the kind of missions that lived in the shadows between the law and chaos. She had heard stories, especially when she played at Club Southside, a place frequented by a very specific crowd—spies, mercenaries, government types.

Her chest had tightened with unease. "You're having someone from Cerberus… watch me?"

"It's just precautionary," the dean had assured her. "I know how important this research is to you. But your safety comes first. The guy they're sending is a former SEAL and has a charter sailboat you can work off of. He'll just keep an eye on things, have your back, so to speak, and make sure nothing happens while you're working."

Deanna had reluctantly agreed. She wasn't keen on the idea of someone shadowing her, especially not someone connected to an outfit like Cerberus, but the dean hadn't left her much choice. Besides, if it meant she could focus on her work without looking over her shoulder, she supposed it was a necessary evil.

Now, sitting on the plane as it touched down on the sunlit runway, Deanna felt a mix of anticipation and trepidation. The Mediterranean was everything she had dreamed of—its clear, warm waters and untouched marine life were a researcher's paradise. But the shadow of those threats and now the looming presence of Cerberus lingered at the back of her mind.

As the plane taxied to a stop, Deanna gathered her things and tried to push the worry aside. She had more important things to focus on. If there was a real threat, she would deal with it when the time came. For now, her thoughts were on her expedition and the discoveries waiting beneath the surface of the sea.

But as she stepped off the plane and into the warm Mediterranean breeze, she had a sneaky suspicion that the past might not be as far behind as she might have liked.

Deanna took a taxi from the airport to the address she'd been given. She stepped off the cobblestone street and into the marina, her sandals crunching lightly on the gravel as she adjusted the strap of her bag. The sun beat down on her shoulders, the salty breeze from the sea tugging at the loose strands of her hair. The marina was beautiful, with its rows of sleek, polished boats and sailboats gently bobbing in the clear blue water, but today, the picturesque surroundings did little to ease the nervous flutter in her chest.

She was here to meet a Cerberus operative—the person on whose boat she would be conducting her experiments and explorations. The thought alone sent a shiver through her despite the warmth of the day. She had no idea what to expect—she'd heard some ripe tales about Cerberus and wondered how the dean had been able to call in a favor. But if the threat was real, it was nice knowing she had someone who worked for an organization that was known for dealing with high-risk situations watching over her. Cerberus was known for black ops, not babysitting marine biologists. But the dean had insisted on this, and she had reluctantly agreed. Still, the uncertainty gnawed at her.

As she walked toward the dock, her mind buzzed with questions. Who would they send? Would it be some grizzled, hardened soldier type, exuding danger with every step? Or someone smoother, invisible in a crowd, blending into the background while keeping watch?

What she didn't expect—what hadn't even crossed her mind—was who was waiting for her at the end of the dock.

She spotted him immediately, standing on the deck of a strikingly impressive sailboat, casually scanning the horizon. His broad back was turned to her, muscles tense beneath his tanned skin, and his stance exuded a sense of controlled power she recognized far too well. The realization hit her like a wave crashing against the shore.

Nash.

Deanna froze in place for a moment, the breath catching in her throat. Her heart gave a sharp twist as the full weight of her surprise settled in. Of all people…

He hadn't noticed her yet, and for a fleeting second, she considered turning around, pretending she hadn't seen him. But it was too late. His presence was undeniable, and a pull, something deep and electric, kept her rooted where she stood.

Gathering her composure, Deanna moved forward, her footsteps steady, even as her pulse raced. She could see more of him now as he turned slightly, his face bathed in sunlight. His sharp jawline and intense dark eyes had left a lasting impression on her all those months ago in London. The memory of their night together surged to the surface—every touch, every whispered word, the raw intensity between them—and for a moment, she had to force herself to focus.

Nash's eyes finally flicked toward her as she approached the dock, and for a brief second, surprise registered in his expression. But then it was gone, replaced by a calm, distant look. He stood straighter, his face impassive as she stepped closer.

"Well, this is unexpected," Nash said, his voice low, his tone casual yet guarded.

Deanna swallowed, keeping her gaze locked with his. "You could say that," she replied, her voice steady but tinged with a hint of the shock she couldn't quite hide. "The dean mentioned Cerberus was sending someone, but I didn't expect it to be you. I didn't even know you worked for them."

He didn't offer a smile or an explanation, just a slow nod, his eyes flicking over her in a way that felt both familiar and distant at the same time. It was as if he were seeing her for the first time all over again but keeping whatever thoughts ran through his mind firmly in check. That aloof demeanor of his—the same one that had drawn her in and kept her guessing in London—was as frustrating as ever.

"I don't, but Fitzwallace has his ways," Nash said simply, his voice unreadable. He leaned against the railing of the sailboat, crossing his arms over his broad chest and looking every bit the capable, calm man she had remembered. "Seems like they needed someone who could handle the job."

Deanna raised an eyebrow, her pulse still racing beneath her calm exterior. "And you're that someone?"

He didn't answer immediately, just looked out over the water for a moment before meeting her gaze again. "I suppose I am."

Her eyes drifted over him, trying to reconcile the man she had spent one unforgettable night with and the operative now assigned to watch over her. He was the same Nash, but also different. There was a coldness to him now, an emotional distance that hadn't been there before. That easy, cocky charm he'd wielded in London was hidden beneath layers of restraint.

And then there was his boat. The vessel itself was a marvel. Sleek, modern, and clearly designed for more than just leisure. Reverie, the name painted in dark, elegant script across its side, gleamed in the midday sun. It was clear from the size and design that this was no ordinary charter boat. Everything about it screamed power and luxury, from the pristine deck to the subtle but unmistakable modifications that marked it as more than just a pleasure craft.

"Nice boat," Deanna said, breaking the silence, her tone light but edged with curiosity.

Nash glanced at the vessel, then back at her, a flicker of something—pride, maybe—crossing his face before he tamped it down. "Thanks. She gets the job done."

Deanna couldn't help but laugh softly, shaking her head. "You're a man of few words."

He didn't respond to that, just watched her with those intense blue eyes. It unsettled her how easily he could still affect her, how just standing near him brought back memories of that night—of the way his hands had felt on her skin, the heat that had surged between them.

"So," she said, trying to keep the conversation on track, "the university must be really worried if they called in Cerberus."

"They are," Nash replied, his voice cool, professional. "And they should be. You've made some enemies with your last paper, Deanna. Real ones. The threats weren't idle."

Deanna's stomach clenched. She had suspected as much, but hearing Nash confirm it sent a chill through her. Still, she refused to let fear rule her. She had work to do, and no amount of danger was going to stop her.

"I'm not about to back down because of a few threats," she said, her voice firmer than she felt. "I've come too far."

Nash studied her for a long moment, as if weighing her words, before finally nodding. "Good. You're going to need that resolve."

The tension between them hung in the air, thick and charged. Deanna had so many questions, so many things she wanted to say—to ask. But now wasn't the time. Nash wasn't the same man she had met in London, and this situation was far more complicated than either of them could have anticipated.

"Let's get you settled," Nash said, pushing away from the railing and gesturing toward the sailboat. "We'll go over everything once we're on the water."

As she followed him aboard The Reverie , her mind raced, torn between the thrill of seeing him again and the seriousness of the threat hanging over her. Whatever was coming next, she knew one thing for sure: Nash Maddox was back in her life—and nothing would ever be simple again.