As they approached the beach, Dahlia couldn't help but feel the weight of nostalgia settling over her. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore brought back memories of innocence and carefree laughter. Victor, ever the charmer, led her to the spot where their paths had first crossed.
"The beach hasn't changed much, has it?" Victor mused, his eyes scanning the horizon.
Dahlia remained silent, her gaze fixated on the vast expanse of the sea. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow on the sand. It was a picturesque scene, but within Dahlia's conflicted heart, storms of emotions raged.
Victor turned to her, his gaze intense. "Dahlia, I know things have changed, but the connection we shared back then—it's undeniable."
She sighed, torn between acknowledging the past and facing the reality of her present with Michael. "Victor, I can't deny our history, but my life has taken a different turn. I'm engaged to Michael Atlas now."
Victor's confident demeanor wavered for a moment, but he quickly masked it with a sly smile. "Engaged, yes. But are you truly happy, Dahlia? Can you look me in the eyes and say you've found the happiness you deserve?"
Dahlia hesitated, unsure of her own emotions. "I... I care for Michael. He's provided a life of luxury and security, but happiness? That's a complex emotion, Victor."
He reached out, gently tracing the outline of her cheek. "You deserve more than a life of complexities, Dahlia. You deserve a love that sets your soul on fire."
As his words hung in the air, Dahlia felt a spark within her. The years apart had changed both of them, yet the magnetic pull between them remained. She pulled away, the conflict in her eyes reflecting the turmoil within.
"Victor, I need time to figure things out. My heart is torn, and I can't make decisions in haste."
He nodded, "Let me show you love that sets your soul on fire Dahlia, let's rekindle what we both know we share, a woman has the right to be with whoever she wants, I'm asking you Dahlia, who do you want?"
Who do I want?, Dahlia thought to herself, I want Abel because he loves me in a warm kind of way, he knows how to make me laugh, he knows how to comfort me, when I'm with him I smile, my soul is at peace with him, but my body... I love Michael because my body completely surrenders to him, because he fucks me like I've always wished to be fucked, he cares about me deeply too and he wants the best for me...who do I love?
"I have no idea" Dahlia said, bowling her head in shame, the thought that she felt trapped between her own choices, her own decisions.
"Then let me make the choice clear to you" Victor said.
Victor, the eternal charmer, effortlessly scooped Dahlia off her feet, carrying her in a romantic sweep towards the edge of the moonlit beach. Her eyes widened in astonishment as they approached a luxurious yacht, elegantly lit by the soft glow of the moon.
"Is this yours?" Dahlia asked, awe evident in her voice.
Victor, with his trademark cocky grin, nodded. "Indeed. I named it after you, Lia."
Captivated by the grandeur of the vessel, Dahlia allowed herself to be guided onto the yacht. Victor, exuding pride, gave her a tour of the luxurious surroundings. As they reached the bedroom, he extended an invitation with a glass of wine, hoping she would succumb to the allure of the night.
She hesitated, her gaze shifting between the glass and Victor. "Your gesture is appreciated, Victor, but I need to go back to Michael. He'll be worried about me."
Undeterred, Victor tried to sway her with his charismatic charm. "Dahlia, why return to a life of constraints? Stay with me, where you can be free."
Feeling a growing internal conflict, Dahlia responded with determination, "Victor, not today. I need to go back."
Acknowledging that persuasion wasn't making headway, Victor sighed. "Alright, Dahlia. I won't press you. But remember, the choice is yours—return to captivity or embrace freedom with me."
His unintended slight stung, and before he could offer an apology, Dahlia shot back, "Let me off, Victor."
She left the yacht with a sheepish nod from Victor. As they approached the beach, an unexpected scene unfolded—a swarm of cars waiting. Michael, having tracked Dahlia's location, stood there with palpable fury.
Dahlia, a mixture of shock and anger, confronted him. "You put a tracker on my phone?"
Unapologetic, Michael responded, "You disappeared, Dahlia. I needed to know you were safe."
Their heated exchange reverberated, and Michael, in a commanding tone, directed his bodyguard to escort Dahlia home. As she departed, Michael turned a steely gaze towards Victor, delivering a warning with icy precision. "Stay away from my wife, Victor. Consider this your only warning."
The tension hung thick in the air as Dahlia left with Michael's bodyguard, leaving Victor and Michael facing each other on the moonlit beach. A silent understanding passed between them—wariness mixed with an unspoken acknowledgment of the complex emotions intertwining their lives.
Victor, ever the resilient entrepreneur, broke the silence. "You can't keep her caged forever, Michael. People aren't possessions to be owned."
Michael's gaze remained unwavering, his voice cold and resolute. "She's my wife, Victor. I'll do whatever it takes to protect her."
Victor's eyes glittered with defiance. "Protect or possess, Michael? There's a fine line, and you're dangerously close to crossing it."
Michael's jaw clenched, the strain of conflicting emotions evident on his face. "Stay away from her. This is your only warning."
Without waiting for Victor's response, Michael turned and walked away, leaving Victor alone on the beach, surrounded by the whispers of the waves. As he watched Michael disappear into the night, a storm of thoughts raged within him.
Meanwhile, Dahlia, escorted back to the mansion, was met with a stern, disappointed expression from Michael. The air in the car was thick with unresolved tension. Dahlia, fueled by a mix of frustration and a sense of violation, finally spoke up.
"Putting a tracker on my phone, Michael? Is that how little you trust me?"
Michael, his eyes on the road, replied tersely, "You disappeared without a word, Dahlia. What did you expect me to do?"
Her frustration peaked, and she retorted, "Trust me, Michael. Trust is a two-way street."
A heavy silence settled between them as the car continued through the night. The mansion loomed ahead, a fortress that held both security and confinement.