Chapter 61 CUSTOM.
\~~~DAMIEN.
The yacht rocked gently as we approached the shore, the engines humming low. Serena's head rested on my shoulder, her breathing steady and deep. She'd drifted off sometime after our talk on the deck, exhaustion from the day's chaos finally catching up. I didn't wake her.
Instead, I wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close as the crew secured the lines. The night air was cool, carrying the scent of salt and distant flowers from the island.
Once we docked, I scooped her up effortlessly, her body light and warm against my chest. She stirred a little, murmuring something incoherent, but settled right back into sleep. The waiting car idled nearby, its driver stepping out to open the door. I slid her onto the back seat, buckling her in before climbing in beside her. The drive to the villa felt endless, the winding roads lit by sporadic streetlights. I kept one hand on her knee, my mind racing through the leak, the threats, and her earlier doubts. But watching her peaceful face, lashes fanned out on her cheeks, eased some of the tension in my shoulders.
At the villa, Alison met us at the door, her eyes wide with concern. “Is she okay?” she whispered, helping me maneuver through the entrance.
“She is just tired,’' I replied softly, carrying Serena up the stairs to our room.
The bed was still rumpled from the morning, sheets tangled from our hurried departure. I laid her down gently, pulling the covers over her. She sighed in her sleep, curling toward the warmth. I lingered for a moment, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
God, she was beautiful, even with the faint worry lines etched between her brows.
I didn't sleep. Instead, I sat in the armchair by the window, phone in hand, staring out at the dark garden. Dawn crept in slowly, painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. My mind replayed the confrontation, her tears, that laugh we'd shared.
It was fragile, this thing between us, but I wouldn't let it shatter. Not over some digital dirt.
The phone buzzed at exactly 5:47 AM. It was Ethan and I answered on the first ring. “Talk to me.”
“We got him,” Ethan said, his voice crisp despite the hour. “Rookie reporter named Jax Harlan. Twenty-eight, fresh out of some podunk journalism school. He came clean and said the picture was sent anonymously to him so he stitched together a narrative for clicks. Posted it himself on a throwaway account to boost his portfolio.”
I nodded, even though he couldn't see it. “Good work. Keep your eyes on him anyway.”
I hung up, exhaling slowly.
He was just a scapegoat. Not perfect, but it bought us time. The real puppet master was there and was staying in the shadows, but this would quiet the noise for now.
I glanced at Serena. She hadn't moved, her chest rising and falling in rhythm. The morning light filtered through the curtains, highlighting the curve of her neck. I stood, leaning down to press a light kiss to her forehead. “Sleep tight, moonlight,’' I whispered.
The day blurred by in a rush.
We packed lazily, and shared a quiet breakfast on the terrace.
Serena seemed lighter, the scandal's shadow fading under the tropical sun. We walked the beach one last time, and laughter came easier, after she had learnt things had been taken care of smoothly.
By afternoon, suitcases were loaded, and we were ready to leave.
Alison waited in the foyer as we prepared to leave, her eyes misty. I pulled her into a hug, feeling her tremble slightly.
“Thanks for everything,” I said, holding her close.
“I am going to miss you two,” she replied, her voice thick.
“But I am so glad you came. This place... it was good for you.”
“It was.” I stepped back, clapping her shoulder. Serena hugged her next, the two women whispering farewells.
Then Alison grinned, pulling away with a teasing glint. “Next time I see you, I hope that stomach is all protruded. You know, honeymoon glow and all.”
Serena smiled, a soft flush coloring her cheeks. Oh, come on.'
Alison laughed, but it turned into a slip. “It is a custom, and you should keep up to it,” her face paled instantly, words hanging awkwardly in the air.
Serena raised a brow, still smiling but curious. “Custom? Has it happened before?”
“I mean... no. It is just that…” Alison cleared her throat, fumbling. “Couples tend to conceive during honeymoons, don't they? All that romance.”
She chuckled, but it sounded forced.
Serena didn't look fully convinced. Her eyes narrowed slightly, that sharp mind of hers turning over the words. She wasn't one to let oddities slide, especially after the past days' paranoia. But she just nodded, squeezing Alison's hand. “Sure. We will see.”
We turned to leave, the driver loading the final bag. Alison waved from the porch, her expression a mix of sadness and relief. The car pulled away, the villa shrinking in the rearview.
Serena leaned against me, quiet.
The airport was a quick drive, a private terminal, with no lines. We checked in smoothly, boarding passes in hand. The plane taxied out, engines roaring as we lifted off, island fading below. I settled into the leather seat, pulling out my laptop to scan emails.
Serena sipped her water, then turned to me, brow furrowed. “What did Alison mean by that? It didn't seem like nothing.”
I swallowed hard, the question catching me off guard. But I forced a smile, smacking my lips playfully. “You are one insecure lady, ain't you?”
“Can't blame a girl,” she shrugged, her shoulders lifting in that endearing way. I laughed, the sound easing the moment.
“It is really nothing. Just as she said, honeymoon talk. Why? Do you want us to have babies already?”
“No!” she exclaimed, eyes wide.
“Ouch.” I clutched my chest dramatically.
“I don't mean I don't wanna have babies with you. I'm just saying…”
“Then, do you wanna have babies with me?” I teased, leaning closer.
“What? No!” She swatted my arm, laughing now. The tension dissolved, her giggle filling the cabin.