Page 45 of Daddy Down Under

Ocean reached out, his fingers brushing against my forearm. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

His touch was comforting, grounding me in the present. I took a deep breath, torn between the desire to share and the fear of reopening old wounds. “How much do you know? About your father and me, I mean.”

I couldn’t quite meet Ocean’s gaze, instead focusing on the condensation beading on my water glass. My heart raced, anticipation and dread warring as I waited for his response.

“I know you two were close friends at one point, but he was always vague about why your friendship ended. He said it had something to do with a relationship you were in and your boyfriend not approving of your friendship?”

My boyfriend not approving of our friendship? Holy shit, had he seriously put the blame on Victor? What an asshole. I fought to keep my voice level. “You mean him not approving of my boyfriend.”

“What happened? If you want to tell me, that is.”

I appreciated him not pushing, but I wanted to tell him, if only to set the record straight. I hesitated, on the fence about confessing the truth of my relationship with Victor, when movement across the street caught my eye. A man was watching us, his face hidden behind sunglasses, a baseball cap, and the shadows of the building he stood in front of. As soon as I turned my head in his direction, he whipped out his phone, staring at the screen.

My breath hitched as I watched him. From a distance, he bore a resemblance to Preston, to a degree that my stomach swirled uncomfortably. Time seemed to stand still as I swallowed thickly. It couldn’t be, could it? Why would Preston be here? He was about as tall as him, though, with the same broad shoulders and muscular build.

“Cash? You okay?” Ocean asked.

I forced a smile as I focused on him, but it felt brittle. “I’m fine,” I lied, my voice strained. “I thought I saw someone I knew.”

Ocean’s brow furrowed, concern etching his features. He reached across the table, his warm hand enveloping mine. The touch was grounding, anchoring me to the present, but it couldn’t quite dispel the unease churning in my gut.

“Are you sure? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

If only he knew how spot-on he was. I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the paranoia. “It’s nothing. My imagination is playing tricks on me.”

When I looked across the street again, the man turned away, melting into the crowd with practiced ease.

Ocean’s thumb traced soothing circles on the back of my hand, the gesture comforting and distracting. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

I nodded, grateful for his understanding, even as doubt gnawed at me. Was it really Preston I’d seen, or was my mind conjuring phantoms from my past? The uncertainty lingered, a shadow cast over our otherwise perfect evening.

“I know.” I mustered a more genuine smile. “And I appreciate that, Ocean. More than you know.”

But even as I tried to lose myself in Ocean’s reassuring presence, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had seen a ghost. The encounter, real or imagined, had opened a door to the past that I wasn’t sure I was ready to step through.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

In which I become a brat…and Ocean makes it clear he won’t tolerate that.

It hadn’t been Preston.

It couldn’t have been Preston.

But the day after that ghost encounter, I still couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling in my belly. I’d been fine for most of the day as I worked on the deal with the Krause Group and had several business meetings via Zoom after that. But now that the working part of my day was over—Ocean insisted on having dinner together every night—it was much harder to get it off my mind.

I was on edge, my mind plagued by memories that should’ve stayed buried. My fingers tapped an erratic rhythm against my thigh as I paced through the suite, my feet sinking into the plush carpet. I was too restless to sit still.

“You okay there, Cash?” Ocean’s voice drifted over from where he lounged on the couch, all golden skin and tousled hair. “You’re wearing a path in that fancy rug.”

I waved him off. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“Mm.” He studied me, his eyes narrowing. He saw so much more than I liked. But then he said, “How about we head down for dinner? Might help clear your head.”

I nodded, grateful for the distraction. As we made our way to the elevator, Ocean’s hand found the small of my back, a gesture that usually calmed me. Tonight, it made me want to squirm away.

The hotel restaurant was dimly lit, intimate. We were led to a secluded corner table, and I immediately reached for the drink menu.

“I think I’ll start with a scotch,” I said, ignoring Ocean’s raised eyebrow.

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