Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Frankie

Damien is right. I haven't been myself for the past few days. I'm over tired which is messing with my focus. At least that's what Jay and Damien keep saying.

I disagree.

In fact, I think they're both full of shit. But I have another reason for agreeing with Damien's little getaway, however, because he's not the only one who can manipulate people.

"Are you sure this is the right way to go, DeMarco?" My captain is staring at me as if I'm an alien.

I nod. "It is. I can't say without a doubt that this is Damien but if I think so then maybe the killer thinks so too."

He leans back with a proud grin. "And you want to take him off the board for a couple of days?"

I nod again. "I do. And I plan to get some answers."

He holds up his hands. "Hang on, you want to interrogate your billionaire boyfriend?"

"Not interrogate," I clarify. "I just want some answers and if we're both relaxed, then I'll get more information out of him." Hopefully. Damien is a man who keeps his emotions—and his life—close to his chest.

But it also means that I don't need to feel guilty about asking him for information. "He'll be safe and maybe I'll get what I need to catch this asshole."

The captain stands with his hands on his hips, paunch belly pushing against two buttons more than is wise before he lets out a long sigh. "Keep your phone on. Nice dress." His grin is playful as he takes in my green sundress and strappy sandals.

"Thanks."

He's shaking his head like he thinks this is a bad idea. "Be careful and be smart, Francesca."

"Of course. See you Tuesday bright and early." I walk out of the precinct.

As I step into the sun, I chuckle. If Damien likes this dress half as much as the captain does, I'll have him talking in no time.

I'm not sure what Damien has planned, but his text said to pack summer clothes and beachwear, so that's exactly what's sitting in my suitcase by the front door of his penthouse. Well, technically, his message was more specific: "I want to see you in nothing but a bikini all weekend."

As we slide into the hired car and the driver loads our bags, Damien's voice pulls me from my thoughts. "I thought you might try to get out of it," he says, and the relief in his tone is almost palpable.

"Nope. I went to talk to Captain Butler about a few things and to let him know I was going away, but I want to be called if another body drops." I spent most of last night trying to find a way out of an amazing weekend with Damien until I came to my senses. An amazing weekend with an amazing man is just what I need.

And answers.

I spend most of the ride to the pier deep in thought, wondering why Damien would lie about the photo. It's clearly him in the photo and even though I've never seen his sister, I'm sure the woman Zeke identified as Jane is her. Why lie? It just doesn't make any sense.

"Hey, you okay?" Damien's hand lands on my lower back as the limo comes to a stop. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

I shrug and flash my best smile. "Just enjoying my last few minutes of obsessing about work before the vacation officially starts." That part's true. From this moment on, I'm determined to play the role of the attentive girlfriend who just wants to know her boyfriend better.

Not the detective trying to grill him for answers.

Damien studies me for a second, and I can tell he doesn't quite buy it, but thankfully he lets it slide. He wants me to relax, recharge, and forget about work for a while. And honestly, that's a good thing, I remind myself. Having a man who actually cares about me and my career? That's rare.

"Okay, let's get on the yacht and grab some champagne," Damien says, his tone easy, his hand slipping into mine.

"Hell yeah!" I laugh, pulling him up the ramp with me. We're surrounded by pure luxury, and I'm determined to enjoy every second of it.

So, enjoy it. That's the plan.

Once on deck, I down the first glass of champagne like the middle-class girl I am, letting out a satisfied sigh. "Another, please."

My request makes him grin, and the butterflies in my stomach do their usual happy dance. Making him happy makes me happy. "What the lady wants," he says, grabbing two glasses from a passing waiter with a nod. "Now, are you ready to tell me what's really on your mind?"

I nod slowly, taking a long sip, letting the expensive champagne warm me from the inside. "I don't want to fight, Damien," I admit as the yacht starts to pull away from the dock, the party just beginning.

"Then let's not fight. But I need to know."

"Fine," I snap, the words coming out sharper than I intended. "You say that isn't you in the photo, but if I can see the resemblance, other people will too, Damien."

He starts to speak, probably gearing up for another denial, but I cut him off.

"Let's say I believe you—it's not you," I continue, even though deep down, I know it's him. "But what if the killer thinks it's you?"

He freezes and his smile fades. The shock on his face tells me the thought never occurred to him. "You're worried about me?"

I roll my eyes, inhaling deeply to give myself a moment so I don't flip my shit on this man who owns my heart in front of a yacht full of people.

"Of course I'm fucking worried about you," I whisper. "This guy has killed several of the people in that photo with you, or not you," I add, the sarcasm in my voice thick. "How can I not worry that you're next on the list, especially when you lie to me about it?"

"I'm not lying," he says, and there's a little heat in his words.

"Whatever," I growl in reply and knock my drink back. "I don't want to fight about it." Men are so fucking stupid. How can he think that I won't worry that he's on the killer's list? That it only now occurred to him pisses me off even more.

He might be obscenely rich—and smart—but he's not untouchable.

"I need to head to the restroom before this Welcome Aboard party kicks off."

"I'll be right here waiting, Francesca."

Welp. Back to being Francesca. I hurry off to the restroom and glance at my reflection, scoffing at the frustrated woman staring back at me.

Damn. I'm on a luxury cruise for three days with the hottest man I've ever laid eyes on, and he did all of this for me. Who am I to question him? If he says it's not him in that photo, then it's not him. End of story. I swipe on a summery shade of pink lipstick and head back to Damien.

Tonight, I'm going to relax, get a little tipsy, and enjoy my man. No more overthinking.

"Hey, handsome," I say, laying a hand on his forearm, grinning as he turns toward me.

"Francesca, you're gorgeous." His eyes heat up as he leans in, brushing a soft kiss along my jaw. "I'm sorry I upset you," he whispers, his breath warm in my ear.

A shiver runs down my spine, and I instinctively arch into him. "I'm not upset. I'm just scared for you, Damien." I kiss him again, soft and far too quick. "But let's not talk about that anymore." I've already said more than I wanted to, and it's time to change the mood.

"Okay. Drink?" he offers, his tone lighter.

"Definitely," I say with a smile. "Did I miss anything?"

"Nothing important. Everything from massages to cocktails, meals and valet services are all included in the costs. That man over there is the captain if you need anything special and that woman over there is the concierge." He points to a woman in tailored slacks and a blouse with a scarf around her neck.

We grab drinks at the bar, and I notice Damien strategically avoiding everyone who might recognize him and want to chat. "Let's toast. To lovers, getaways and a good time."

Damien's lips part into a bright smile. "I'll certainly drink to that." He taps the edge of his glass to mine and takes a slow, sultry sip. "Dance with me?"

Holy fucking swoon. It's as if he knows exactly what to say to shake off the rest of my mad. A man who not only can dance but is willing to—in public, no less—is as irresistible as being handsome and charming and rich. I knock back the champagne with a grin and put my hand in his. "I would love to dance with you, Damien."

He leads me to the dance floor, taking my hand in his before twirling me toward him until we're chest to chest. Face to face. His dance moves are impressive and after a minute or two, our dancing draws the attention of the crowd. A few couples join us on the dance floor while others are content to watch.

A woman with beautiful long red hair and a skintight green dress is laughing loudly, drawing as much attention as we are. Her lips are painted an impressive shade of red and she's wrapped around a buff guy who I'd describe as a gym rat. When I look up at Damien, I notice that he's watching the couple. And scowling.

"Are you okay?" I put one hand to the side of his face to divert his attention to me. "Do you know those people?"

"No, but they are obnoxious in a place where that behavior sticks out. I don't like it."

I laugh. "Oh, so my man is a snob?"

"What? No. I'm not a snob. It's just rude." He shakes his head, the look of disgust evident.

"Hmm," I say rather than arguing. "If you say so."

"I do." His grin is big and bright. "Now let's get out of here." He grabs my hand and drags me off the dance floor, through the crowd and up to the deck where there's nothing but black water for miles all around us and sparkling skies above.

"Where are we going?"

"Dinner," he says over his shoulder and the sight of him makes the next breath stick in my throat. He's beautiful and the look of love he's sending me knocks me off balance.

I love this man with my whole heart.

It's a scary realization but I do my best to keep my smile placid, at least until I spot the cloth covered table topped with candles and a bucket of ice with a bottle chilling in it. "Damien."

"Nothing but the best for my precious kitten."

I like the sound of that far more than I should. "Sounds amazing. Looks even better." The closer we get to the table the more my shoulders relax and the thoughts about the case fade into the background. It's easy to do since Damien is here with me and—technically—not in danger. "This is incredible. Thank you."

Damien takes my hand in his and brushes a soft kiss across the knuckles. "Believe me when I tell you that it is my absolute pleasure."

When he says it like that, with his voice a little gravelly and his eyes dark and focused on me, I want to fall into the depths of his hazel gaze and never leave.

We sit and enjoy another glass of champagne as the yacht glides through the water. It's romantic and peaceful.

The food comes out in multiple courses, starting with small bites that lead into bigger and bigger bites until I'm satisfied and feeling so high that I could almost float away. The salmon mousse is excellent—smooth and flavorful. The sushi adds a nice touch of elegance, with each bite bringing a clean, refined taste. Simple, but satisfying.

"Is everything to your liking?" Damien asks.

I nod slowly. "It is absolutely perfect, Damien. Like a dream come true." The more time I spend with him, the more time I want to spend with him.

Never in my life did I think I'd get so lucky. Losing my dad and then my mom, my string of shitty relationships all taught me the lesson that relationships aren't for me. They don't have lasting power. But now, with Damien, I'm believing that maybe I might have what it takes to make this love thing work.

"The moonlight suites you."

My belly clenches at his sweet words. "You don't have to sweet talk me, Damien. I'm a sure thing."

His laughter is low and deep, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. "Perhaps, but did it ever occur to you that I want to romance you? That you deserve to be romanced?"

I take a sip, feeling like the most beautiful woman in the world. "I like that you want to romance me."

"Good." He leans forward with a seductive smile. "Because I want you to have the best of everything." He takes my hand and kisses it. Such a romantic move.

My cheeks heat up and I take one last sip of champagne. "I want it, Damien. All of it. Almost as much as I want you."

He leans forward, his eyes dark. "You have two choices, Francesca. I can seduce you here and pray no one catches us, or I can take you to our suite and take my time, making you come until you can't walk."

"The suite," I answer quickly. "The fucking suite. Now."

I feel a shiver of anticipation as Damien shuts the door behind us. He's on me in an instant, his hands skillfully removing my clothes until I'm left in just my new blue bra and panties, bought especially for this trip, and my strappy sandals.

"Perfect," he whispers, his gaze burning into me. "You're fucking perfect, Frankie." His words spark something in me, like striking a match to wood, sending fire through my veins. My heart pounds, and my fingers ache to tangle in his hair, to pull him closer.

I let out a nervous giggle, stepping forward and lightly bumping into him. "Oops, almost lost my balance there." I blame the champagne, which has taken the edge off my nerves. "Hey, you," I grin up at him, feeling playful and just a little tipsy.

"Hey yourself." Damien's eyes sparkle with amusement as he gently guides me to the bed. "I've got you."

"Don't I know it?" I sink onto the mattress, my legs turning to jello beneath me. "Damien," I breathe, my voice rough with desire. "You have no idea what you do to me."

"I bet I do," he says and then leaves a trail of soft kisses along my shoulders and collarbone. When his tongue teases the dip between them, my breath catches. His mouth is both a torment and a blessing, making me want more.

As his lips travel further down, each touch feels like a spark igniting something deep inside me. He explores my body with an intensity that makes me feel claimed, his tongue branding me as his. When he reaches the sensitive spot behind my knees, I let out a laugh, a mix of delight and nerves.

"Ticklish?" Damien grins, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Just feels good," I say, my eyes fluttering closed as I give in to the sensations. My whole body vibrates like a guitar string, every nerve on high alert.

In this moment, my doubts and fears fade into the background. I know Damien wants me with the same intensity that I want him. I can see it in the heated glances he shoots my way, in the possessive way his hands caress my skin.

In the way he's licking my thighs right now.

I wonder when he's going to tell me. When is he going to finally admit that he's in love with me?

"Fuck," he bites out before he peels his clothes off and tosses them on a chair. He kisses me like I'm everything that matters to him and I arch into him, wrapping my legs around his waist and begging for what we both want.

"Fuck me, Damien." I push my hips up as I beg him for more. "Please? I need that big. Fat. Cock."

"I need you too, Frankie." His palms grip my thighs and spread me wide, teasing me with shallow strokes that stoke the fires inside of me.

A moan slips out, and he stops, adjusting his grip on me so that he's holding my wrists beneath my thighs. It's an awkward position and when he sinks deep, it's absolutely perfect.

"Yes," I moan.

"So fucking beautiful," he grunts, gripping me tighter and fucking me with long, deep strokes that touch me all the way to my soul. Over and over again he moves deeper, hitting the magic spot that turns everything to rainbows and fireworks. "Fuck."

He's stunning, his face twisted with pleasure as he chases his own high. That chiseled jaw, those eyes like melted gold—seriously, he's everything I've ever wanted. When he leans in, his kiss starts off sweet but quickly turns electric, and then he's all in, driving into me with a wild intensity. It's exactly what I need right now. It's raw, it's real—Damien completely lost in his desire for me.

Like a beautiful piece of art, I can't take my eyes off him.

"Frankie." He grips me hard. The way he holds me feels almost sacred as he pushes me toward another orgasm. "Oh fuck, Francesca." His movements become frantic, yet he doesn't pull away, keeping us connected until he finally comes inside me.

We're tangled together, a sweaty mess of arms and legs, panting and grinning at each other like two lovesick fools.

In love.

"Damien." My fingers trace down his spine as he gently rolls us over, pulling me half on top of him, that irresistible grin on his face.

His fingers thread through my hair. "Francesca, I'm so crazy about you."

It might not be love yet, but honestly, at this moment? It's more than enough.

I laugh and slide my hand down his body, stopping just before his cock, still sticky from my juices. "Show me."

"Oh, I plan to," he moans, kissing me until I'm wet and hungry for him.

For more.

For everything.