I make myself pull away and walk out into the sunlight. The heat that hits my face is nothing compared to the burn in my chest.
How am I supposed to forget about him now, when he’s living in my town—and campaigning against me?
Fuck.
Chapter Ten
DK
Iwasn’t exaggerating about the pounding in my chest. It took every ounce of discipline to keep my shock under wraps when I saw Luna standing there in a tapered skirt, side-swoop bangs curling in defiance, shaking hands with Diablo.
No warning. No lead-up. Just boom. There she was. Still sexy. Still beautiful. Still Luna.
What kind of twisted fate drops the woman I can’t stop thinking about straight into my professional orbit like that?
I hadn’t even heard of Bayside until a former colleague reached out about the job. A friend of a friend who knew Diablo was running up against resistance over his expansion plans. Pushback from business owners. The Waterfront Committee stonewalling him. Half the town digging in their heels at the thought of Bayside’s coastline being handed over to developers.
Diablo didn’t just require a campaign strategist to handle his re-election. He needed someone who could revamp his plan and reframe growth without swinging a wrecking ball through the soul of this town. I have a legal background in zoning laws,I’d successfully guided a contentious redevelopment project in Maryland, and helped the governor regain public trust.
Diablo knew I could do this job. He knew I was, frankly, overqualified. But he didn’t question that too closely—more interested in having me on the team than interrogating my motivation for joining it.
I couldn’t go back to Washington. Though my therapist, Donovan Wright, said it wasn’t the place that mattered. It was me. Same as my father:it’s what you give—and what you keep for yourself.
Extreme workaholism mirrors other addictions. Same traps. Same dopamine hits. Same self-destruction—just dressed up as productivity. Going back would’ve been like opening my arms to another downfall. It would’ve broken the promise I made to my family… and to myself.
But not working felt like a slow death. I didn’t just need a paycheck—Ineededto feel useful. Don said that was the problem. My self-worth had fused itself to output. To achievement. To never stopping.
I’d made work the biggest—the only—focus in my life. I let it ruin relationships. Women got tired of last-minute cancellations and being the third wheel to me and my phone. I rarely saw my family. Friendships were ignored. All I did was go, go, go. Up at five, gym for an hour, office by seven, finish at ten or eleven at night—sometimes later. Take my laptop to bed. Little to no sleep.
I was on a hamster wheel. Running harder, faster. Chasing the next agenda, the next task, the next win. Until that wheel finally flew apart.
Now, I have a fresh start. A chance to prove I could do this—balance. Moderation.
I hadn’t counted on Luna. Running for mayor. Against my candidate.
A woman I have feelings for… and who I believe still feels something for me too.
I can only imagine that my sudden appearance, just when she made her announcement, must have been like a collision she hadn’t seen coming. I expected her shock. What I hadn’t expected was the hurt in her eyes when she said, “So I wasn’t worth another shot?” Christ. That nearly undid me.
I wanted to contact her, but I let fear and self-doubt hold me back. She probably thought I was just another motherfucker who let her down.
My phone buzzes. A reminder that the meeting starts in three minutes. I duck into the restroom, splash water on my face, and get my head in the game.
I arranged for The Burbank Group to pitch an eco-friendly plan for the waterfront. For the next hour, I ask the right questions. Talk timelines, environmental reports, phased zoning. I do my job. I haven’t lost the laser focus my bosses always appreciated.
But for the first time, my attention is shared. Luna’s steadily there—not pulling me off task, just threaded through it.
After the meeting ends, Diablo and I debrief. He’s impatient to get on with expansion, but he now has an opponent when he’d expected to coast into his second term unchallenged.
“Good thing I’ve got you,” he says, grabbing a golf club from one of those executive office sets. “Rayne hit me out of left field with her announcement.” He lines up a ball on the strip of green. He swings, misses, curses, then lines up again. “I know her. When she sets her mind to something, she operates at one hundred and fifty.”
Which means he’ll expect two hundred percent from me. Months ago, I would’ve welcomed that math.
“Gabriel,” I say carefully, “it might be better to hire a separate campaign manager and let me focus on the expansion project.”
He pauses mid-swing and laughs. “You must be kidding. You think I’m going to sideline a top-tier campaign strategist?”
“I’m just saying, campaigning is a full-time job. So is the project.” And if I’m not on the campaign, I’m not directly competing with Luna. “It’s too much for one person. Something will suffer.”
