Chapter 2 To new beginnings

Michelle's POV

"So, what's your name?" he asked, trying to clear the atmosphere.

"Michelle," I said, turning to face him fully. Even in the dim light, he was striking-the kind of handsome that belonged on magazine covers. "And you are?" I managed to ask.

"Ray," he responded, smiling.

I smirked back.

"I've been here for a while, you know. I saw you sitting alone, staring out at the ocean, wiping away tears now and then. So I came over-to see if maybe my presence could help, even just a little."

"Maybe I should go through therapy again... This pain in my heart hasn't gone away since I lost my brother." I said as tears fell freely down my cheek.

He watched it trace the curve of my face, and his eyes softened.

"Has anyone ever told you," he asked gently, "that you look beautiful when you cry?"

I let out a shaky laugh, half-surprised by the tenderness in his voice. "No... that's a first."

"Then maybe it's time someone did. But I hope, someday, I get to see you smile instead."

"Nice to meet you, Michelle," he said, stretching his hand toward the backseat to grab something.

"What's that?" I asked wiping my face with the back of my hand.

"Oh, I'm just trying to get a drink for us," he said, his voice carrying a note of gentle reassurance as he reached for the bottle. "I know we're just meeting for the first time, but I promise you, I'm not a bad person."

"Is that alcohol?" I asked, watching him pause with the bottle in his hand.

"Yes," he responded, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Don't tell me you're new to it?"

"I am," I admitted.

I had been raised in a strict home where alcohol was forbidden, where purity was prized above all else. Twenty-one years old, and I had never tasted a drop of liquor, never felt a man's touch beyond a hug. We were always told to save ourselves for the right one, to wait for marriage, to be patient.

Growing up poor, we couldn't afford such luxuries anyway, but even if we could, my family's strict beliefs would never have allowed it. The weight of those expectations had followed me everywhere, even now as I tried to escape the crushing grief.

"There's always a first time for everything," he admitted gently, pouring the golden liquid into crystal glasses. "To new beginnings," he said as we clink our glasses together.

The first sip of the drink burned my throat like liquid fire, making me wince and gasp. But underneath the burn was something warm and golden, something that spread through my veins like a temporary reprieve from the pain I'd been carrying.

I reached out to examine the bottle-Hennessy Paradis, the label read in elegant script. Even I knew this was expensive cognac, worth more than what some people probably made in a month.

"This must have cost a fortune," I murmured, taking another sip, this one easier than the first.

He shrugged. "Sometimes money can't solve all of your problems," he said quietly, then took a long drink from his own glass.

I watched him as he drank, noting the way his shoulders carried some invisible weight, the way his eyes seemed distant and troubled. There was pain there, different from mine but real nonetheless.

"Can I have another?" I asked, surprising myself with the boldness. The first glass had dulled the sharp edges of my grief, and I wanted more of that numbness.

He poured us both another generous measure, the crystal catching the dim light filtering through the windshield. "To new memories," he said quietly.

"Are there old memories?" I asked him, the alcohol making me braver than usual.

His jaw tightened, and for a moment I thought he wouldn't answer. Then he said "I got a call today. From a stranger." He took a long drink. "Turns out my mother's accident sixteen years ago...didn't just happen."

My breath caught. "What do you mean?"

"Someone influenced it. Someone who had a grudge against my mum, maybe." I could see the storm brewing behind his eyes.

"During my teenage years, I thought it was just bad luck or terrible timing. But someone deliberately took her from me-and before I could ask who, the stranger hung up. Now, I feel like I could become a murderer when I finally learn who orchestrated the accident," he said with a deep sigh.

"Oh heavens" I murmured.

We sat in heavy silence, the weight of his revelation settling between us like a third presence. As the mood in the car grew heavy. On impulse, I turned to him.

"Would you like to get out and sit on the hood?" I asked gently. "Clear the air a bit?"

He nodded, and we climbed out of the car, bringing our glasses and the bottle with us. The night air was cool, the sound of waves crashing against the shore provided a rhythmic backdrop, punctuated by the occasional call of night birds and the distant hum of cars on the coastal highway.

I found myself settling on the warm hood of his Lamborghini, the metal still holding heat from the day's sun despite the cooling night air.

The surface was smooth under my palms. Above us, stars began to appear more clearly, scattered like diamonds across the sky.

"Another?" Ray asked, holding up the bottle.

I nodded, and he refilled our glasses. This third drink went down smoother, the burn now familiar and almost comforting.

"So what do you do?" he asked eventually, his voice cutting through the quiet.

"I'm still in school, actually. Finishing my degree in nutrition." The words came easier now, the drink smoothing away my usual shyness. "Final year."

"Our nutritionist," he said with a genuine smile, and something about the warmth in his voice made me smile too.

"Maybe you should be my personal chef after graduation," he continued with a grin, and I burst into laughter-loud,unguarded laughter-I guess I was getting drunk already.

"One more please," I asked, smiling as he gave a grin, wondering why I had laughed so much.

"Uhmm, I think that's enough for a first timer" he said looking concerned.

"Naaa,* I shook my head "I'm okay" I responded, stretching my glass further.

The fourth glass made everything feel softer around the edges, the sharp corners of reality blunted by the warm haze of alcohol. The sound of the waves seemed more musical now, and the stars appeared brighter, as if someone had turned up their intensity just for us.

Maybe this was what it felt like to be free, I thought. Maybe this warmth spreading through my limbs, this lightness in my head, was what I'd been missing all these years of careful living.

I moved to set my glass down beside me, but the world tilted unexpectedly. The drink had affected me more than I'd realized, and my coordination wasn't what it should be. My hand slipped, and I felt myself falling sideways-until his strong hands caught me, steadying me against himself.

"Careful, Michelle," he whispered, and the sound of my name on his lips made my breath irregular.

We were close now, closer than I'd ever been to a man who wasn't family. I could smell his cologne-something sophisticated like Tom Ford, that spoke of wealth and refinement.

I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, hear his slightly quickened breathing, and sense the tension brewing between us. His eyes searched mine, and I saw the exact moment his gaze dropped to my lips.

Time seemed slow as he leaned closer, then his lips brushed mine-my mind went blank except for one screaming thought: A stranger is having my first kiss!

Panic flooded through me, and I pushed him gently away from me. We stared at each other in the moonlight, both breathing hard and surprised by the tension that had passed between us.

"I... I'm sorry, Michelle..." he stuttered. "It's not... umm," he said, trying to find his voice.