Page 30 of Wild Tangled Hearts

What should Bella do next?

Wait for Sebastian’s promised text. Even though there’s a mystery to the man, there’s also some serious chemistry. Turn to this page.

If there are already warning bells, it’s probably best to move on now. Maybe it’s time to give someone else a call. Turn to this page.

PartFour

Tangled Signals

Love's greatest peril lies in the chasm of misunderstanding. Approach with empathy, tread with patience, and build bridges of communication, for the heart is easily misled in the realm of unspoken words.

Chapter12

Damien

TRUTH OR LIES

“Any chance you’ll let me in on the secret destination? I ask while Damien skillfully secures the helmet to my head, then helps me onto the rear of his motorcycle.

He gets on the bike and throws a sly grin over his shoulder. “I thought you said you liked surprises.”

“Only when I know what they are.”

Damien laughs. “Trust me, I think you’re going to like it.”

“Oh, well, that clears everything up,” I say, my words dripping with sarcasm.

He chuckles once more, then revs the engine, and we speed down the street.

I attempt to push the thoughts of the text messages I’d spotted on his phone to the back of my mind. At some point, I’ll need to muster the courage to ask him about them, but for now, I focus on relishing the present moment.

We weave through traffic, Damien’s expert maneuvers making it feel like we’re dancing through the rhythm of the metropolis. Laughter and chatter from sidewalk cafes, coupled with snippets of music from passing cars, contribute to the lively soundtrack of our ride.

The city’s energy seems to crescendo as we reach the market square. There’s an art exhibit on this weekend. I’d been planning to come on my own, and I’m hoping that this is our final destination.

As we approach the bazaar, Damien gently stops the bike. I swing my leg over the seat, dismounting with a mix of excitement. My feet touch the pavement, and I can’t help but smile at Damien.

“Told you you’d like it,” he says with a wink.

The marketplace sprawls before us, a sensory feast for the eyes and ears. Stalls adorned with captivating artwork line the pathways, their colorful creations like invitations to a world of imagination. The air is filled with the murmur of art lovers, the occasional artist’s pitch, and the sweet scent of anticipation.

Hand in hand, Damien guides me into the pulsating heart of this artistic wonderland. The vibrant tapestry of people, sounds, and scents surrounds us, threatening to engulf my senses.

As we stroll through the maze of creativity, our conversation flows effortlessly. Yet, an insistent voice nags at the back of my head, a constant reminder of the infamous text messages. I can no longer postpone the inevitable, the discussion that needs to happen.

Approaching a stand where double chocolate chip ice cream beckons, I gather my courage to address the issue that has been festering in my mind. “Damien,” I begin, my voice trembling slightly, “there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

He turns to me, those stormy eyes fixing on mine.

Taking a deep breath, I fidget with the hem of my dress, my fingers betraying my nerves. “I saw some texts on your phone the other day.”

He frowns. “Okay?”

“They were from someone named Stacey and Lexi. I couldn’t help but wonder—“

“Damien.” A woman strides toward us; her gaze locked onto Damien like she’s been fervently searching for him. Her arrival is as unmistakable as an approaching tornado, poised to disrupt everything in its path.

“You can’t keep ignoring me,” she exclaims, her voice sharp with accusation. She’s stunning, with jet-black hair and bright blue eyes, and instantly, a wave of jealousy stirs in me.

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