Page 8 of Captivating Nash

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 aboardThe 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.

Chapter Four

Deanna

Deanna stood on the deck ofThe Reverieas it cut smoothly through the waters of the Mediterranean, the salty breeze whipping through her hair. The sun was starting its slow descent toward the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the sea, but the beauty of the moment was lost on her. Her thoughts were consumed by the man at the helm.

Nash Maddox.

She gripped the railing, trying to steady herself—not because of the gentle sway of the boat, but because of the storm of emotions brewing inside her. Frustration, curiosity, and something else she didn’t want to name just yet. Every interaction with Nash since they’d set out from the marina had elicited a tug-of-war between her simmering irritation and a relentless intrigue she couldn’t shake. He seemed closed off, keeping his words clipped and professional, his eyes dark with restraint.

It was infuriating.

“Still quiet, I see,” Deanna muttered under her breath as she watched him at the helm, his strong hands gripping the wheel with that same easy confidence she remembered. She didn’t mean to speak aloud, but the words slipped out, borne of her frustration. She had tried to engage him in conversation several times during their journey, only to be met with his frustratingly stoic responses.

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