Page 17 of Damián

“Oh! What’s this?” She gropes me.

Sexual harassment, that’s what this is… and sure, I’m huge, but hands off, lady!

I wiggle away, doing my best not to draw attention from the security guards who are stationed fifteen feet away… But I can’t.

How the hell are these two drunks so strong?

“Yay! Your phone!” She takes the phone out of my pocket and flips it open. “Let me put our number in…”

I turn to see what she took, and my blood runs cold because that thing in her hand is the damn highly-freaking-classified phone I’m supposed to give the informant. “Please give it back.”

“No, I’m adding my number.”

“You can just say it; I have a great memory.” I stretch my hand for the phone, forcing a playful tone I definitely don’t feel. “Please give it back.”

“Catch me for it!” she squeals, backing away toward the edge of the infinity pool. She’s fumbling with the screen, her heels wobbling on the stone.

I lunge.

I try to catch her, but her friend gets in my way, giggling. She stumbles, knocking down the phone thief, making them both fall backward into the pool.

“Stop—”

Splash.

The crowd around us gasps as the thief tumbles backward into the water, limbs flailing and all. I stand at the edge, horrified, watching the encrypted phone sink to the bottom like the Titanic’s necklace.

“Damián, what happened?” Logan asks.

“The phone is in the pool,” I hiss, half annoyed, half panicking. “And the guards are closing in… Fuck, Elijah is looking right at me.”

“Damn it, I’m too far. We need a distraction, now,” Logan says, and I can hear he’s moving fast around the crowd, trying to reach me.

“I got this,” Björn volunteers, and I watch in disbelief as he launches himself into the air from the terrace railing while screaming a Viking war cry and holding a three-liter bottle of Moët like it’s one of his damn F1 trophies.

He hits the water in a massive cannonball, drenching the front row of guests, the band, and some of the ice sculptures.

“What the fuck…” says Knox on the comms.

But Björn splashes out, surfacing like a majestic, tattooed dolphin. He lifts the champagne bottle and screams, “The water feels fucking great!”

Okay… so, we are all going to die.

But instead of being dragged away by the guards, Serena West laughs from the balcony, kicks off her heels, and climbs the rail.

“Pool party!” she screams and dives into the pool.

Suddenly, the “it” crowd is treated to a damn pool party, and the guards are stuck watching billionaires, celebrities, and drug dealers splash around like toddlers around our beautiful, unhinged Swedish Viking.

Jajajajajaja, pinche Björn.

I lunge into the shallow end, ignoring the death of my amazing outfit, snatch the dripping phone from the dazed woman’s hand, and climb out. I’m soaked, my hair is a mess, and I am beyond annoyed.

I check the phone; it’s cracked, wet, and dead.

Carajo!

Then I see it… A part of my tattoo is visible now.