Because, despite the secrecy, the impossible balancing act, and the growing risks waiting for us back in Bayside, being in DK’s arms always feels like the safest place.
Chapter Forty
DK
“When it comes to the North Pier project, I think the better play is hitting back with the fact that this save-the-shores idealism isn’t rooted in real numbers,” Diablo says, pacing the length of my office. “She doesn’t understand the scale needed for growth.”
“I’m telling you, Gabriel, if you keep trying to frame Rayne as an emotional activist, it’s not going to land,” I state flatly, bringing him back to reality. “She’s already proven she understands the numbers. She ran them frontwards, backwards, and sideways in yesterday’sHarbor Heraldinterview.”
Diablo scoffs. He’s always been more comfortable on offense. “I’ve handled multimillion-dollar capital portfolios. Rayne managed a tourism budget.”
“And you should lean into your executive experience,” I say. “That angle worked when you secured the Chamber of Commerce endorsement. But dismissing her as passionate without substance is a losing move. The voters who like Raynehear that as criticism of their judgment. You risk alienating them.”
“So I’m not supposed to call out her inexperience?”
“Call out the experience gap, just don’t conflate it with incompetence.” Luna has eaten into his lead over the last two weeks, but he’s still holding the majority. “Keep the focus on your long-term vision—economic growth. Don’t attack Rayne’s intelligence. Attack the limitations of her approach.”
He nods slowly. “I appreciate that you challenge me, Dakarai, instead of just telling me what I want to hear.” He settles back into the chair across from my desk. “I don’t think I’ve properly told you how much I value your straightforward advice and counsel. You’re rock solid. Steady. Exactly what I need to keep me on track. ”
His praise curdles into guilt.
“I appreciate that, Gabriel,” I say, not quite meeting his eyes.
“It’s true. You make me a better candidate.”
Damn. I pride myself on integrity, but I’m lying to him every single day. Not about the work. Never that. I coach him to sharpen his message and strengthen weak points. Every strategy I give him is honest. Every recommendation is my best professional advice.
But I’m still withholding the one truth that would change everything.
Diablo thinks I’m steady. He has no idea that lately I feel like a man pulled apart at the seams. Trying to do right by my candidate, while I’m missing Luna more with each passing day.
Not casually. Not in some manageable, background-noise kind of way.
I miss her with the physical ache of withdrawal. I miss the soft weight of her draped over me in sleep. The way she curls into my chest like she’s claimed that space beneath my collarbone. I miss hearing her laugh in the same room. I miss thescent of flowers on her neck. I miss the feel of her mouth moving sensually against mine.
Going from waking up wrapped around Luna to waking to an empty bed every morning feels like a daily cold plunge.
Nine days.
Nine days since I’ve touched her.
Nine fucking days since the Bayside Truth Watch launched a smear campaign against her.
I made sure nobody on my team touched any of it as ammunition. We still don’t have definitive proof of who’s behind the page, and any connection to our campaign could blow back on Diablo. That’s the line I hold onto—the razor-thin line that lets me stay loyal to my candidate without betraying my woman.
Luna and I agreed to a temporary lockdown. No secret meetups in Bayside. No slipping away in the wee hours because we’re desperate to share the same space.
The posts from Bayside Truth Watch are mutating. They started as generic accusations about Luna’s public image being fake. Now the tone is getting increasingly personal. Suggestive. It’s becoming clear that whoever is running it is less interested in attacking her politics than dismantling her character.
One post from last night read:PSA: Rayne Webber’s wholesome community image is nothing but smart branding.
Another followed this morning:Beware of people who build campaigns on transparency while hiding who they really are behind closed doors. Rayne Webber, we see you.
The followers, shares, and comments are growing. Not massively, but enough. This is Bayside. Drop a pebble into a small pond, and the ripples travel fast.
I hate it.
I hate the insinuations.
