Somewhere in paradise

The sharp, rhythmic beeping cut through the quiet.

Diane stirred, her body slow to respond, still wrapped in the warmth of sleep—and the memory of him. For a brief, blissful second, she smiled, expecting to feel Matthew beside her.

But the bed was cold.

Her eyes opened fully.

The soft sway of the boat remained, the ocean just beyond the window—but something was different. The air felt… wrong. Too quiet. Too empty.

“Matthew?” she called softly.

No answer.

The beeping continued somewhere outside, distant but persistent.

A flicker of unease curled in her chest.

Diane pushed herself up, wincing slightly as her body reminded her of the night before—not painful, just tender, touched by something real. Something she hadn’t felt in far too long.

But now… that warmth was gone.

She quickly washed up, dressed, and gathered what little she had—her phone, her card. Her fingers trembled slightly as she checked for signal.

Nothing.

“Okay… okay, think,” she whispered.

She stepped out onto the deck.

A crew member stood nearby, his expression cold, uninterested.

“Where are we?” Diane asked quickly. “Where’s Matthew?”

He barely glanced at her. “No time for questions. You either wait… or go home.”

“Go home?” she snapped. “How? Where even—”

But he was already walking away.

Panic rose fast this time.

What did I get myself into?

Last night had felt like something out of a dream—safe, intense, real.

But this?

This felt like a mistake.

Without thinking, Diane moved toward the dock and stepped off the boat, her bare feet hitting the wood with a soft thud.

The air was warmer here, heavier. The kind of heat that clung to your skin.

She didn’t stop moving.

—

The dock stretched longer than she expected, leading toward a rugged shoreline and a narrow path winding upward.

Her muscles protested as she walked, her body still tired, her energy drained—but she pushed forward anyway.

She needed answers.

She needed a signal.

At the base of the hill, she spotted a man.

“Excuse me,” she called, her voice tight. “Where can I get cell service?”

He didn’t speak—just lifted a hand and pointed up the hill.

Of course.

Diane let out a breath. “Perfect,” she muttered under her breath. “Exactly what I needed.”

The climb was worse than it looked.

The path was uneven, the incline steeper than she expected. Halfway up, her legs burned, her breath coming faster—but she kept going.

And then she saw it.

A building.

Small. Weathered. The sign above it in a language she didn’t recognize.

Inside, the air shifted instantly.

Dark. Heavy. Thick with smoke and silence.

A bar.

Every head turned the moment she walked in.

Diane felt it immediately—the weight of their attention. Rough men, hardened faces, eyes that lingered too long.

She swallowed, steadying herself, and approached the counter.

“Excuse me… can I get a drink?”

The bartender stared.

For a moment, no one moved.

Then a man stepped forward.

Dark hair. Brown eyes. Clean compared to the others—but something about him felt… off.

He spoke quickly to the bartender in another language, then turned to her with a faint smile.

“Here,” he said, sliding a glass toward her. “For you.”

“Thank you,” she replied cautiously.

“We don’t get many English speakers here,” he continued. “And… not many women like you.”

Diane stiffened slightly.

“I’m just passing through,” she said. “Heading up the hill for cell service.”

His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“That’s not a safe walk,” he said. “I can drive you.”

Every instinct in her told her to say no.

But she was alone.

No signal. No idea where she was.

And no Matthew.

“…Okay,” she said quietly.

—

The car was too nice for a place like this.

Black. Polished. Windows tinted dark enough to hide everything outside.

Diane sat stiffly in the passenger seat, her fingers curled tightly in her lap.

The man glanced at her as he drove.

“What is a girl like you doing here?” he asked.

“I’m meeting a friend,” she said carefully. “Matthew.”

“Ah,” he murmured. “A friend.”

The word lingered in the air longer than it should have.

Diane’s stomach tightened.

Something wasn’t right.

They reached the top of the hill.

But the car didn’t stop.

“Stop,” she said, sharper this time.

The doors locked with a quiet click.

Her heart dropped.

“I said stop!”

She reached for the handle, pulling hard—nothing.

The man’s voice changed, losing all pretense of kindness.

“Sit still,” he said. “And you’ll see your friend again.”

Fear surged—but Diane didn’t freeze.

She swung at him.

Fast.

But he was faster.

His hand caught her wrist mid-motion, twisting just enough to stop her. In seconds, cold metal snapped around her wrists.

Handcuffs.

“Look at you,” he muttered. “Fiery. I like that.”

“Let me go!” she snapped, her voice shaking despite her effort to stay strong.

He didn’t even look at her.

“Your friend owes me something,” he said calmly. “You’re just… motivation.”

Diane’s breath hitched.

Matthew… what did you drag me into?

—

Time blurred.

The drive stretched on, endless and silent.

At some point, exhaustion pulled her under.

And all she could see… was him.

Matthew’s hands. His voice. The way he looked at her like she mattered.

The way he made her feel safe.

Would he come for me?

She didn’t know.

But she wanted to believe he would.

—

Voices dragged her back to consciousness.

Shouting.

Anger.

The car had stopped.

Diane blinked, disoriented, then realized they were inside a large, dim barn.

And then she saw him.

Matthew.

Relief hit so hard it nearly broke her.

He stood across from the stranger, his expression unreadable, his posture controlled—but there was something dangerous beneath it.

Something cold.

He handed over a small item—something Diane couldn’t see clearly.

The stranger smirked, then unlocked the car.

The keys to her cuffs were tossed toward Matthew.

Diane’s voice broke as she tried to speak. “I’m so—”

“Shh,” Matthew cut in sharply, not even looking at her. “Don’t say anything. And don’t act like you know me.”

The words hit harder than she expected.

Confusion flooded in, mixing with the fear, the relief, the overwhelming emotion.

Tears spilled down her cheeks before she could stop them.

Matthew turned back to the man, his voice now cold, dismissive.

“She’s nothing,” he said flatly. “Not even worth keeping. Just some girl who wandered where she didn’t belong.”

Diane flinched.

Every word felt like a betrayal.

He grabbed her arm roughly, pulling her toward a waiting SUV.

“Take her,” he muttered.

The stranger watched her closely, something calculating in his gaze.

“She looks familiar,” he said slowly. “Careful. Your little rival is just getting started. Might want to keep an eye on him.”

Diane’s heart stopped.

Rival?

And then—

“Dave…”

The name echoed in her mind like a crack of thunder.

Her breath caught.

How does he know Dave?

And more importantly…

Chapter 3: Somewhere in Paradise

The splash echoed longer than it should have.

Diane’s heart jumped into her throat as she twisted toward the railing, instinct screaming at her to run, to help, to do something. But Matthew’s hand tightened around hers—not painfully, but firmly enough to stop her.

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice low and controlled. “He chose that.”

Diane slowly turned back to him, her eyes wide. “Chose that? Matthew, you just made a man jump off a moving boat.”

Matthew didn’t flinch. His gaze remained fixed on the water for a moment longer before he finally looked at her. The warmth she had seen before—the softness from the beach, the man who kissed her like she mattered—was still there… but now it was buried beneath something harder.

“He broke trust,” Matthew said. “Out here, that’s not a small mistake.”

Diane pulled her hand away, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “You don’t just punish people like that. This isn’t some… kingdom where you make the rules.”

A faint, humorless smile tugged at his lips. “You’d be surprised.”

That answer didn’t comfort her.

Not even a little.

⸻

The rest of the boat ride passed in uneasy silence. The ocean stretched endlessly around them, beautiful and calm, completely at odds with the storm brewing inside Diane’s chest.

She studied Matthew when he wasn’t looking.

The way he spoke quietly with the captain.

The way the crew avoided his eyes.

The way control seemed to follow him like a shadow.

This wasn’t just a man who made whiskey.

This was someone people feared.

And yet…

He had carried her to bed.

Watched her sleep.

Given her his shirt like it meant something.

That contradiction pulled at her harder than anything else.

⸻

When the boat finally docked, the air felt heavier, thicker—like stepping into a place where something unseen was always watching.

Matthew guided her down the ramp, his hand hovering near her back but never quite touching her.

“I’ve arranged a car,” he said. “It’ll take you somewhere safe for now.”

Diane stopped walking.

“Somewhere safe?” she repeated. “You still don’t get it, do you? I don’t want ‘somewhere safe.’ I want my life back.”

Matthew turned to face her fully, his expression tightening. “Your life isn’t untouched anymore.”

“That’s not your decision to make.”

“No,” he said quietly. “But it is my responsibility now.”

Diane laughed—but there was no humor in it. “Responsibility? We met yesterday.”

“And yet,” he said, stepping closer, his voice dropping, “you were taken because of me.”

That hit.

Hard.

Diane looked away first.

⸻

They stood there for a moment, the tension between them thick enough to feel.

Then Matthew spoke again, softer this time.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he continued. “I don’t lie. Not to you.”

Diane searched his face, looking for cracks, for signs of manipulation—but all she saw was intensity. Frustration. And something deeper… something dangerously close to vulnerability.

“Then tell me the truth,” she said. “All of it.”

Matthew hesitated.

That alone told her everything.

⸻

“My business…” he began slowly, “isn’t just distilleries and shipments. That’s the surface. What people see.”

“And underneath?” Diane pressed.

“Control,” he said simply. “Supply lines. Territory. Influence. There are people who would rather burn everything than let someone else hold power.”

Diane felt a chill run down her spine. “And Dave?”

Matthew’s jaw tightened. “He’s new. Reckless. Trying to carve out a place by disrupting everyone else. Sabotage, theft, intimidation… whatever gets him ahead faster.”

“And you?” Diane asked quietly. “What does that make you?”

Matthew didn’t answer right away.

When he finally did, his voice was calm—but heavy.

“Someone who built something worth protecting.”

⸻

Diane exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself.

“This is insane,” she muttered. “I went to the beach to forget my problems… not walk into a crime war.”

A faint smirk flickered across Matthew’s face. “Not exactly paradise, huh?”

Despite everything, a small, reluctant smile tugged at her lips.

“Worst vacation ever,” she said.

“Debatable,” he replied, his eyes softening as they met hers.

And just like that…

The tension shifted.

Not gone—but changed.

⸻

There it was again.

That pull.

The same one from the night before.

Unfinished. Unresolved. Dangerous.

Diane hated how her heart reacted to him—how it leaned toward him, even now.

“You’re still the man who lied to that guy about me,” she said, though her voice lacked its earlier bite.

“I protected you.”

“You humiliated me.”

“I made you invisible,” he corrected. “There’s a difference.”

Diane shook her head, but she didn’t step away.

“That doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

His honesty disarmed her more than any apology could have.

⸻

A breeze rolled in from the ocean, lifting strands of Diane’s hair across her face. Without thinking, Matthew reached out and gently brushed them aside.

The touch was light.

Careful.

Completely different from the control he had shown earlier.

Diane froze—not from fear this time, but from the sudden rush of warmth that followed.

“You should hate me,” Matthew murmured, his hand lingering just a second too long.

“Maybe I do,” she whispered back.

“But you don’t.”

Their eyes locked.

And for a moment, everything else—the danger, the confusion, the chaos—fell away.

⸻

Then Diane stepped back.

Not far.

But enough.

“I’m still going home,” she said, regaining her composure. “All of this… whatever world you live in… it’s not mine.”

Matthew nodded slowly.

“I know.”

“But if what you’re saying is true,” she continued, “then you don’t get to just disappear after dropping me off. You dragged me into this.”

A flicker of approval crossed his face.

“That sounds like a demand.”

“It is.”

For the first time since the boat, Matthew smiled—really smiled.

“Good,” he said. “I was hoping you wouldn’t walk away that easily.”

Diane rolled her eyes, but her pulse betrayed her.

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late,” he replied softly.

⸻

As they walked toward the waiting car, Diane couldn’t shake the feeling that she had crossed an invisible line.

There was no going back to the version of her life before this.

Not completely.

And as much as that terrified her…

A small, undeniable part of her didn’t want to.

Because somewhere between the danger and the truth…

Between fear and fire…

Matthew had become something she couldn’t ignore.

Something she wasn’t ready to let go.

Not yet.

What doesn’t Matthew want me to know?