straight into the ocean. The water was a bit frigid, and I shivered against the first wave that broke against my naked body. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t here for a swim. I was here for primal cleansing. Burn the negative energy and wash away the last remnants.
I dunked my head under the water and laughed when I breached the surface. This was what it was to live. This was what I needed to remember. Life went on.
The Kensington house was just another job. Just another way to make a living while I pursued my passion. One day, I would catch a break, but until then, I would be damned if I let those publishers bring me down. I’d put one foot in front of the other and make it work.
Confident that the ritual burning and impromptu skinny-dipping had done its job, I hurried back out of the water. My steps were light as air, and my smile was magnetic. Whatever spell my mother’s crazy life-journey had cast over all of this nonsense, it sure seemed to work. Believe in anything enough, and belief would turn into reality.
But as I was tramping back up to the fire to collect my clothes, I realized with horror that I wasn’t alone. And what was worse, I recognized the man standing there.
I never forgot a face. And definitely not that face. Or the built body. Or the confident stance.
No, even though six years had passed, I would never forget Penn.
Or what he’d done to me.
Natalie
2
My dream and nightmare stood before me.
Clothed like a god walking off of a James Bond set with dark hair and midnight-blue eyes that flickered in the dying embers. Six years had only intensified his magnetic allure. The sharp planes of his too-beautiful face. The ever-present smirk, which sat prominent on those perfect lips. The coy glance as he slid his hands into the front pockets of his black suit pants.
I had been a girl then. Young, naive, and incredibly innocent. I’d thought him a man—bold, honest, emotive, and utterly larger than life. Now, as I looked upon him, I had no idea how I’d thought of him as anything but a rogue. The kind of man who could charm you with a glance and entice you out of your pants with a few pointed words. The sort of man I purposely walked away from now.
I’d never imagined I’d see him again. Never considered what would happen if I came face-to-face with him. But, now that I was, the words just tumbled from my mouth.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I gasped.
He cocked his head to the side in surprise. An emotion I was sure that he wasn’t accustomed to. He was definitely the kind of man who liked his life in a certain order. People didn’t surprise him. He didn’t let people in his life enough for that.
“What am I doing here?”
His voice was just as I remembered it. Smooth as butter and deeply entrancing. I thought I’d made it up. Like no one actually talked like this. In my mind, I’d magnified everything he was and everything he’d done. But standing here, I was wondering if I had remembered him better than I gave myself credit for.
I braced myself for this conversation. I’d built steel walls up around my heart, mind, and body. I didn’t let people in as easily. And I needed to prepare myself for his manipulation. Let the anger I’d harbored all of these years tear him down as he had once hurt me.
“That’s what I said,” I snapped back.
I’d finally reached him, and I scrambled for my dress. It was a floor-length white boho number that had more fabric than sense, which made finding how to get it on incredibly difficult under good circumstances.
These were not good circumstances.
I struggled with the dress and the layers of material, desperate to find the opening for me to slip my head through. As if it wasn’t bad enough that I was seeing Penn again for the first time in six years, I had to do it completely naked.
Seemed fitting. That was the last way he’d seen me then, too.
“Yes, but you are the one who is out of place, skinny-dipping on this beach. Don’t you know these are private residences?”
“I’m well aware.”
I finally found the bottom to the dress and yanked it over my soaking wet head. My long silvery-white hair was such a nuisance sometimes. If only I’d let my best friend, Amy,