You notice things about people you hate. I’ve never been on a cruise before, and I should be enjoying the scenery, the beautiful blue water surrounding us … all that shit. But I can’t, because the fuckwad who hurt Olive is here, outside Olive’s cabin, and now the paparazzi is too.

I managed to avoid them for the past few days, not thinking about my boxing career. I’m young, they should leave me the fuck alone to explore adulthood, or some shit. But instead I just gave them more ammo.

Cameras flash, but I ignore them. Who the fuck has the time to go stalk someone on a cruise to take photos? And how did they even know I was here?

Not wanting an audience, Jason retreats down the hall, which pisses me off more.

I knew what he was doing, coming up to Olive’s cabin to try and talk to her.

Never mind that he’s here with the woman he cheated on her with; that he’s the world’s biggest prick.

But of course, as soon as he saw me in there with Olive and then the paparazzi, he backed off.

Fucking coward.

“Hey!” I shout at him. He stops for a second, but doesn’t look back. He keeps walking after that, so I shout at him again, “Hey, motherfucker, I said stop.”

I know I sound like a dick, but I don’t care.

He yells something back at me, and it surprises me. But I can’t hear him, and I don’t care what he’s saying. The words are meaningless.

A crowd is growing around us now, and cameras are clicking. Guess there are a few more boxing fans on this cruise than I expected.

Jason stops a few feet from me and turns to spout some garbage at me, but I hear people in the crowd buzzing about me.

“Is that Axel Reign?”

And just like that, I can’t make the distinction between a swanky cruise ship and the ring. I feel the crowd around me, and I can’t make them out from the sweating, screaming hordes in the seats below the ring.

I don’t need a fucking ref for this.

I step forward into my boxing stance and raise my hands. I throw my body weight toward the asshole in front of me, extend my arm until …

Fist hits skin.

Jab, cross, jab, cross.

He tries to hit back, but his flailing punch misses my face by a mile.

This fuck doesn’t even know how to throw a punch. Now he’s resorting to kicking at me, and I just want to hurt him.

He’s way outclassed. My advantage over him is enormous, but I don’t think about that. All I can think about is how this guy has hurt my Olive.

I punch him in the gut then hit him square in the nose I probably broke earlier. He falls to the ground, and I’m about to jump on him and keep punching when I hear Olive’s voice.

“Axel! Stop!”

I don’t know when she left the room, and I don’t know if Lark is with her, but I come to my senses immediately. There’s something different about honorably fighting in a ring and beating the shit out of some shithead on the deck of a cruise ship.

Slowly I unclench my fists and gasp for air.

As much as I want to hit him again, I back away.

“I’m sorry, I just … I can’t forget what he did,” I tell Olive, my eyes darting back to the cabin. “Is Lark okay?”

Olive nods, crossing her arms in front of her body. “Selena’s with her.”

I nod, glad for that at least.

And then I realize those cameras never stopped clicking. I turn to look at them and I see a flash of hair and short shorts as Becky runs across the deck, picking up Jason and dragging him away.

We’ll have to deal with being in a confined space with each other. But that doesn’t mean we have to see each other. And if Becky does her job right, I won’t have to deal with Jason, and he won’t have to get his face fucking broken again.

My breathing returns to normal, and I take Olive in my arms. Her head fits perfectly under my chin like it always has, and I love how small she is, and how it feels like I can protect her from anything.

But I can’t convince myself that attacking Jason isn’t as much for her as it is for me. I sigh into her hair, about to close my eyes when the first fan pipes up and asks for my autograph.

Another camera clicks, and I imagine how it looks, me holding Olive in my arms and breathing calmer than I have in ages. She feels right. I’ll have to figure out who that person is and ask for that photo later, but there’s only so much shit I can deal with right now.

Olive presses her body against mine for a moment, but then she pulls herself away from me and we’re only connected by fingertips. A pen is shoved roughly in my other hand as a high-pitched voice requests I scrawl my name on their shirt.

Axel Reign.

Done.

Pen in hand, I sign my name on notepads, clothing, skin, and maybe a camera or two. I don’t keep track. My mind is on Olive. Finally, I hand the pen to a young lady and go to Olive, needing her more than I need the attention of some groupies and a few reporters.

“Mr. Reign! Is this your wife?” One voice screams over the sound of the rumbling people. The area was quiet and serene a few minutes ago, but it got loud during the fight and it’s only gotten progressively louder. I nod, ignoring the technicalities of the statement. She’s my girl, even if she doesn’t know it yet, but the way her hand squeezes against mine tells me she does.

I’d love nothing more than to have Olive as my wife.

But we’re not there yet.

Taking Olive’s hand in mine we move back in the direction I’m pretty sure I came from. She giggles, stopping me.

“My room’s this way,” she says, grabbing the sleeve of my shirt and pulling me back to our cabin.

The room looks the same as it did before, still smells of freshly cut apples and unpacked luggage. I guess she took our clothes out when I was hunting for Jason.

Selena and Lark are missing from the room. Guess the blonde took my little girl out to explore the ship. Perfect timing.

I kiss Olive on the forehead, hoping she’ll know I noticed. Either way, I’m not going to ask. She leans her head against my chest and that’s all that matters.

“Axel,” she says.

“Shut up,” I tell her. I have to quit being so fucking soft. I wonder if she’ll still like me as much, as mushy as I’ve been around her. But I’m not in the mood for mush now. I grab her by the waist and draw her to me.

I’m so much stronger than she is, but she doesn’t fight me. She never has.

We are meant to be together.

I touch my lips to hers. She presses a hand behind my head pulling me closer. I shower her in rough, wet kisses, tugging at her shirt and lifting it over her head.

“Wait,” she says, tugging at the hem of mine.

I stop immediately.

“I can’t, Axel. It’s too much, too soon. We have to talk. You’re being too pushy,” she admits brokenly.

It hurts so fucking much to hear her say that. I try to speak, but I can’t.

“Later,” she says, kissing me lightly one more time. “I promise.”

And then she’s out of the room, saying she has to find Selena and Lark, check up on her little girl. And I’m sitting in here, thinking about the kid that might just be mine.

I’m not sure what being a father feels like, but I think I it may be exactly the way I’m feeling about Lark.

Later doesn’t come that night. And I’m not even mad when Olive leans her head on my shoulder, and tells me how sleepy she is.

“Me too,” I say, and refrain from kissing her again. I press my fingers in her hair, pulling at it lightly so it rises from her scalp and she moans. “Let’s go outside.”

She nods, her eyes half-lidded and I wonder if she’s actually too tired to.

No, I think it’s because Lark is in here.

That’s why we can’t be intimate.

I knock on the door to the adjoining room, and Selena opens it. “Can you watch Lark?” I ask.

She nods and comes inside our room. Lark’s sleeping peacefully on her cot, so Selena won’t have a lot of work on her hands.

I lead Olive outside, until we’re at the door leading to the deck.

Using both hands, I shove open the door and let Olive go out first then I follow her onto the deck. It’s dark out now, darker than expected. The stars are so big and bright here, not like I’ve ever seen them in the city.

Water surrounds us, and the way the stars lights reflects off it gives the night a magical feel. The peaceful lapping of the waves against the boat makes up a thumping rhythm that makes me want to take Olive into my arms and dance with her.

We’re just outside Olive’s room, which is almost at the top of the ship. The ship has several floors, but only the captain’s quarters are above us. No one is allowed up there.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I nudge her with my shoulder, nodding in the direction of the captain’s quarters. There’s a ladder leading up there with rails to hold onto to make sure we don’t fall in case we hit a particularly bad wave.

But I’m not concerned about me. Only about her.

“You know it,” she says, that grin of hers I haven’t seen in so long spreading across her face. Olive has always been nerdy, the good girl, but there’s a streak of wildness in her, and I long to bring it to the surface. I just hope she gives me the chance. “It’s been ages since I did something naughty.”

Without giving her fair warning, I start running across the deck, avoiding the sun chairs other tourists have left lounging about, and I hear her high-pitched “Hey!” scream at the injustice. It makes my sides ache, and I almost lose my advantage.

Almost.

My hand hits the ladder first, and I drag it all the way down so the bottom rung hits the deck and we’ll be able to climb with stability. I long to rush up it, feel the sea breeze on my face as the wind wafts against my skin. But I duck my head and move aside. “Ladies first.”

She hits me in the stomach, lightly, mumbling something about not being a lady.

She couldn’t be more wrong.

She leans her back against the railing, holding her weight up with her arms just enough so she’s shaking from the exertion of it. I laugh, moving toward her, and grab her arms so that her body is leaning up against the rails. I hold her arms on either side of her so she won’t fall. I’ll keep her safe.

“It’s been so long,” she says.

I nuzzle my mouth against her skin, moving my face down so my lips rest against her throat. She arches her neck so her skin is easier for me to reach. I stop kissing her. I want her now, but I want her to ache for it. For me.

I want her to beg. My hand caresses her small curves through the fabric of her clothes, and I exhale into the night air. “I looked for you for so long, Olive.”

“So much has changed.” She pulls herself away from me and finds a seat leaning up against the captain’s office. She sticks her legs out in front of her, and I do the same. I sit there, listening, as she tells me everything, about my family moving and helping her family, which they’d told me. I was so desperate to see her and tell her she could live with me, but she refused to even come to the door.

I take her in my arms. She keeps talking, her words muffled by her mouth against my shirt. I can still hear her, her voice breaking.

“My father died two years ago,” she says. “I had just turned nineteen. You weren’t there. I didn’t have anyone.”

This is like a knife to my gut. I feel horrible.

I tell her everything about the contract, and she sits there, nodding. I feel her tears start to subside. I run a hand through her hair, needing to comfort her. She holds my hand against her chest. Now isn’t the time, but I want her and my hand on her breast isn’t doing much to stop that … I squeeze.

She gasps, shaking her head. “Wait, I need to tell you,” she whispers, her voice shaky. I move another hand to her chest, feeling both her breasts and squeezing them, pulling the fabric up and moving her bra aside so I can tweak her nipples while she trembles against me.

“Lark’s yours,” she finally blurts out.

Now I know. But I’ve known all along.

I move my body, adjusting myself so I’m on top of her, my knee between her legs as I push them apart for me. Then pushing aside her panties, I press two fingers into her.

“Olive.” I kiss her, needing to comfort her with touch not words. “Don’t talk.”

She whimpers when I touch her, whispering my name.

I should be angry she neglected to tell me I was a father, but all I can muster up is love for this woman. She was only a girl when she carried my baby, carried and raised my child all by herself. And I’ll never fucking forgive myself for leaving her when she needed me most.

“I signed that goddamned contract,” I tell her. “I never would have left had I known you’d gotten pregnant. I tried so damn hard to get you back, Olive.”

“I know,” she whispers, then moans as I move my fingers in and out of her pussy.

“You’re so wet, Olive,” I groan. “So fucking wet for me, still, after all these years.”

A shrill scream interrupts us, and we spring apart, my fingers leaving her pussy even though I’m desperate to push something bigger inside her.

We rush toward the sound of the voice only to find Selena sprawled on the floor.

“Fuck.” She grins through her pain. “Caught red handed.”

“Selena!” Olive says with horror in her voice, crouching next to her on the floor. “Are you okay? What the hell are you doing?”

“Spying on you. Don’t worry, Lark’s safe and sound in bed. I only left for a moment,” her friend admits, wincing when Olive touches her ankle. “Fuck, I think I sprained something.”

I’m half tempted to tell her it serves her right for following us around, but I just sigh and pick her up from the floor. “Come on, you big baby,” I tell her. “Let’s go to the nurse.”

Olive follows behind us, shaking her head but smiling.