Chapter 1

Damien's POV

The first time I met Lisa Armstrong, it was at a movie theater, where we had both gone to see The Little Mermaid. Her auburn hair was styled in a bun, atop a head that stood out on the female dominated queue seeking to buy popcorn, with a white cashmere dress that hugged her willowy waist and flared to the top of her knees and black heeled boots. Even from behind, with a guy on a baseball cap situated between us, the outfit was cute as hell. But her sling purse was slightly open, and a wallet was peeking out. And the guy in front of me who maybe thought I wasn't paying attention had already swiped the wallet, and made it disappear through his front pocket.

I bent over till my mouth was almost against the shorter man's ear. "I would give it back if I were you."

"Whatever you mean, dude."

"I mean you have the option of giving the lady back her wallet without causing a scene. Either that or I'll have to break every thieving finger of yours to retrieve it."

"You're out of your damn mind!" His screech drew the attention of everyone else around us. He made to leave the queue, but I clamped a hand around his collar and hauled him forcefully back. "Not so fast, wisecrack."

The queue became something of a circle around us as some security officers hurried over.

I fished the red wallet out of his pocket and extended it towards Lisa, who was at the fringe of the crowd. "I believe this is yours, Lady?"

"Yeah… I found out it was missing from my bag…" She took it from me. The crowd cheered as the security officers took the pickpocket away. I even received a few pats on my back. But all that did not matter when I laid my eyes on her face. Her eyes were the prettiest blue I had ever seen, huge and sparkly like polished ice in sunlight as she looked up at me. I must have stared for too long, because her brows drew together in a confused stare.

"I'm Damien." I finally found my tongue. Same tongue in cheek, I added,"Can I call you Lady?"

"Lisa," she corrected with a laugh, eyes smiling, face radiant. Gorgeous. My heart ratcheted up a thousand notches. "Lisa Armstrong."

I offered my hand. "Nice to meet you, Lisa. You're here for the movie?"

She took it in a handshake. "Likewise and yeah, I am. You? Don't tell me you're into Disney movies. I thought it was a girly girl stuff." Her hand was soft as feathers in mine, the contact sending a rush of electricity through my body.

"Let's just say I'm into the princesses and damsels in distress."

"You sleazeball." But she was smiling, pouty pink lips tugging up at the corners, and I was enchanted. She was, still is, the most stunning woman I've ever met.

"Protecting them is part of what soldiers do."

"Whoa." A manicured hand shot up to cover the 'o' of her mouth. "You've got really cool stuff going on, G I Joe. By the way thank you so much for my wallet…"

I chuckled at the nickname. "You're welcome, Lisa."

She slipped stray tendrils of hair behind her ears. "You with someone?"

I gave a broad smirk. "I am now."

We spent the whole night together at the theater eating popcorn, seeing the Disney live adaptation, and talking. But that was one month before Keith introduced her to me as his fiancee, and two months before she became Mrs Reed.

Now I step into the living space in my parents' ultramodern, upscale residence in Oakenville, cradling a bottle of Merlot in a paper bag. I had been invited by Mom to a Sunday lunch, but aside from the grey leather couches, white walls, a flat screen telly and daffodils in a dainty china vase by the draperies fluttering in the breeze that adds a burst of color to the otherwise neutral decor, and a host of other pricey furniture I'd not bother to name, no other living creature is present.

" Anyone home?" I holler. " Mom?"

" Damien?" Came a reply slightly muted by distance. Mom emerges finally, in a floral sundress that contrasts beautifully with her olive skin. Her jet-black hair is cut to her neckline, and I spy silver strands that already stand out in the black mass of hair.

My free arm snakes around her shoulders in a hug. " Good to see you, Mom."

Her caramel colored eyes crinkle as she smiles. "I'm so glad you came, Damien. Feels like ages." She draws back from the embrace. "Look at you. You're glowing."

"I am?"

"I'm certain you gained more pounds." She pokes at my biceps, gushing like a hormonal teenager poring over a menswear magazine for the first time. "You look bigger than before."

I chuckle, and hand her the Merlot. "For you."

"Ooh, how thoughtful of you, my sweet." She lifts the bottle for closer examination. "Come. Lunch's this way."

Mom hooks a hand through my elbow and leads me towards the dining room, through a sliding glass door that looks out to a small patio. Platters of food are artfully arrayed alongside plates and cutlery on a table covered with a damask cloth, that flutters in the slight breeze. There's an oaken roof overhead, supported by four columns of identical material. Dad sits at the head of the table, black rimmed glasses perching on a hawk- like nose while he scrolls down what I assume to be his inbox on his smartphone. Max the Labrador retriever stretches his furry body on the paved floors, looking blissfully up at little Willow as she pats his silky snout. If she's here, then …

Like an angel summoned out of my dreams, Lisa stands by the door, clutching wine glasses, a plum dress clinging to her willowy frame, emphasizing every curve and hollow. Bird wings flutter furiously where my heart used to be. Her delicately arched brows almost rise to her hairline, and her luscious mouth forms a startled 'o'.

"Hello, Lisa." The last time I saw her, it was a year ago. Pale faced, and arrayed in all black with everyone else beside Keith's grave. She looks rosier now, luminous chestnut waves fanning out across her shoulders, but those sapphire eyes that once twinkled at me are now unreadable.

"Damien." She acknowledges with a jut of her chin before striding past me to the table. The stab of a very familiar feeling impales the bird wings in my chest. It's been a year now. Guess she still wants us to act like we're familiar strangers. The exchange draws Dad's attention. He sneered at me from over the top of his glasses.

"A lovely afternoon to you, Dad." I call.

He positions his phone on the table and grunts. " I had no idea you were coming. Whatever happened to your precious job?"

"Of course he'd be here, Demetrius." I didn't realize Mom had come back out after she went inside. "I invited him over for lunch. I haven't seen him since…" she falters. "Since Keith…"

"It's okay, Mom." I scoot over to rub her back. It's not easy losing two sons. Keith and I used to have an elder brother, Killian. But he too died, two years before Keith's accident. "Let's go enjoy the food."

"You need to understand he's all we have left," Mom continues even as I grab hold of her shoulders and steer her towards the table. Dad stares at her for a moment, eyes glassy behind his spectacles, or maybe I just imagined it, before he looks away.

After grace was said, appetizers were served. A salad of spinach, with a sprinkle of peas and carrots. Willow, in a high chair beside her mother squirms, insisting on feeding herself. She has her father's pale gold hair - which is identical to mine - and the angry eyes that flashed at Lisa are definitely hers.

" How's the restaurant going, Lisa? Flourishing, I presume." Dad spears a pea with a fork.

Lisa offers a smile with the power to stop hearts. Dubbed 'Princess of Oakenville' by the locals, her famed, angelic beauty is the reason most of the patrons at her thriving restaurant, Duke's Table, consist of adoring fanboys, and why most women love to have her as a prime subject of their gossip. "Your presumption is indeed right. Did I mention there's a prospect of an interview with Women's Weekly? They want me to feature in a cover story."

" Magnificent." Dad says. " While it's not anything near Times, you'll get there soon. Who wouldn't want an angel on their covers? Truly impressive, Lisa." However his glare is trained on me, the disgraceful son that dropped out of med school.

I grab a glass of water and fiddle with it for a while before taking a big sip. It doesn't matter if I tried, I can never evade the shadow, will always remain eclipsed by my elder brother's success. Having followed in Dad's footsteps as a promising lawyer, it's no wonder Keith was his favourite. All my life I stumbled after him, but Dad wouldn't look my way, especially after I failed the examination that brought my journey as a doctor to a crashing, abrupt halt. That was when I quit trying to please him, and got conscripted into the US army, another career that was cut short when I got discharged from the military, for medical reasons I didn't want to disclose to my family, most especially to my mother. Lisa was just basking in her late husband's reflected glory, plus Dad's already taken a huge liking to her, having funded her restaurant as part of a wedding gift. It's not at all taxing to be fond of Lisa. That's what happens when you win the genetic lottery, from a striking Southern mother with Scottish roots and an estranged Vietnamese father. I lift my eyes from my plate to find Lisa watching me. As soon as our eyes meet, she quickly averts her gaze.

Salad plates are replaced with the main course. Now this is more like it; a bed of wild rice and a side of baby carrots flavoured with maple syrup; gleaming chicken save for it's head and legs, a dressing of onion and celery, chestnuts and oysters, grilled trout between sides of miniature roasted potatoes and long green beans sprinkled with slivers of almond. Mom really went all out, I note with a grin.

" I'm glad you like it, Damien." Mom grins back, contented with the gusto with which everyone else was tucking in. " I'll pack you some to take home with you. You too, Lisa. Enough to last till the next sunrise."

" I do appreciate, Carla. But I'd like to take a little. By tomorrow morning I'll be on my way to Miami."

" Wowww!" Mom dramatically draws out her w's. Dad raises his silver head at that.

" I was invited by an aunt." She doesn't elaborate further. I take a big bite of my chicken. I too will be in Miami by tomorrow, but I don't mention it. There might not be chance our paths will cross.

" That's wonderful of her. You get to spend some time outside Oakenville." Mom props up her cheek on her hands and sighs. " I'm jealous."

Lisa laughs. " We both know you can fix that anytime you want."

" While you're at that, I expect some new developments…" She winks. " In a male form too."

Lisa fake- snorts.

" By the way," Mum declares. " Who's up for some Merlot?"