Page 1 of Stolen Sun

Chapter one

Noel

The sun’s warmth pouring in through the bay window is my saving grace this afternoon. A beautiful day complete with a picturesque scattering of clouds on a light blue sky serve as a direct contradiction to the temperature in my office. The air conditioning stays on 67 degrees to combat the oppressive heat of southern Alabama. It's wonderfully inviting when first entering the building; however, my summer wardrobe wasn’t chosen for the temperatures of springtime shade.

The frigid office, also known as JV Marketing Firm, is a second home to me. I’ve worked here since graduating from South Alabama. Before that, most of my intern hours in college were also spent in this office. My boss, Joe Vendelini, is a close friend of my parents. He practically promised me a future job when he found out I was the editor of my high school yearbook staff during a family bar-b-que. In fact, the only intern hours I acquired away from this office were in Joe’s rival firm, per his request.

For the most part, I enjoy working here. It wasn’t my top career choice, but it was a good compromise between my artistic ambitions and Nate’s career.I do get to create art in some capacity. Even if it isn’t what my younger self had originally envisioned.

Sitting back from my laptop, I look over at the picture of Nate that’s framed on my desk. His blue-green eyes staring back at me with that playful smile on his handsome face transport me back to the beginning.

"Why do you need a picture of me, babe?" He asks while looking up at me through his heart-stopping, long lashes. He’s still sitting on the bench we had just been sharing to eat our lunch.

I take him in for a moment before answering. He is truly a sight to see at 6’2” with dirty blonde hair and suntanned skin, the definition of homegrown. I still have to pinch myself to believe he’s really mine.

"I want to remember everything about this trip, especially the way you keep looking at me," I answer him honestly.

"Mrs. Williams, I will look at you this way for the rest of my life," he says, melting my insides.

I hold my phone up to take the picture then sit back down on the bench beside him. He pulls me closer by wrapping his arm around my waist.

Leaning down to kiss me just below my ear, he whispers, "I’ve seen enough of Italy. I’d like to be buried inside my wife for the rest of the day. Let’s go."

A knock on the door pulls me back to reality, far away from my honeymoon and even farther away from the beautiful man who was my husband.

“Yes?” I call out.

The door opens, and Joey steps inside. “Hey, Noel, I just got off the phone with a woman named Claire Morris representing a logistics company called Velocity. She won’t be able to attend the meeting she scheduled with you, but the owner is on his way here.”

“Okay, thanks,” I say with a smile.

“Cool. Listen, everyone is really hoping to see you this Sunday,” he says expectantly.

My smile falters, and I look down at my wedding ring. “I’m going to come by. I’m looking forward to it,” I say, fixing my smile and looking back up at him.

“Great!” He leaves my office but doesn’t close the door.

The dread of going to family functions without Nate is something I need to get over because the last thing I want is to let everyone down. Now that I’ve been back to work for a couple of weeks, invitations for outings and gatherings have begun to flow my way. Going back to work was like sending a flare into the sky letting everyone know I was officially rejoining the world—even if unintentional.

Six months ago my husband died in a single-car accident coming home late on icy roads. His Porsche collided with a tree in such a way that it exploded on impact. His body had to be identified through dental records because he had been so badly burned.

It took months of therapy to work through not only the grief of losing him and the trauma around how he died but also the acceptance that it had truly been him. Not being able to see him for myself left my mind open to the possibility of conspiracy theories. As an investment broker, he used to joke that he would have to fake his own death one day to save himself from angry clients. People can be irrational when it comes to money. We actually receiveda few threats about a month before he died, so the theory wasn’t completely unrealistic.

Hope that his death had been a ploy clung to me like a coat in the coldest of winters. After those first few weeks of outright denial, I tore through his office files at home and his firm looking for anything that would prove he could still be alive. Proof that he had faked his accident and would come back for me with new names on passports granting us access to an endless tour of the world. My father even helped me look through some of the files and documents I couldn’t make sense of, but there was nothing to find.

According to my therapist, I was experiencing very strong denial and anger phases of grief. Time eventually helped me accept he was truly gone. Now, I’m learning the cold reality of death is that everything comes down to numbers in a bank account. Since finance was Nate’s area of expertise, I didn’t do much with any of it while he was alive. His dad, Grant, has been a saint for helping me handle some of the more complicated aspects of our portfolio the past few months.

“Here we are,” Julie, our receptionist, says just before appearing in my open doorway.

Surprised by the lack of her usual phone call that a client is waiting, I jump up quickly to set the tone for a great first impression. She steps to the side allowing the owner of Velocity Logistics, Inc. to enter my office. As she does, golden brown eyes meet mine. The world shifts beneath my feet. The professional greeting that was poised and ready dies on my lips as my mouth goes dry.

“Declan?” I gasp.

His deliberate smirk gives me the heart-stopping reminder of how cute his dimples were. Only, I wouldn’t use the word 'cute' to describe anything about the captivating man standing before me.

“Noel,” his deep, husky voice states my name without the slightest hint of surprise.

Realizing he knew exactly what he was walking into, I swallow my shock and look away from him to salvage my composure.

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