Clara frowned slightly, confused.
— The cemetery? You want to take me there? she asked, a slightly nervous smile on her lips.
Daniel didn't even turn his head. He remained focused on the road, his eyes fixed on the asphalt rushing beneath the wheels. Silence settled between them for a few seconds, heavy, before he answered in a calm, almost detached voice:
— Do you think I'd take you luxury shopping just to end up among graves? Obviously, it's the beach.
Clara let out a small laugh—nervous, but genuine. She brought her hand to her neck, absently playing with an invisible chain.
— You scared me... With you, one never really knows.
Daniel didn't respond right away. He simply offered a slight smirk—light, ambiguous. The kind of smile that made your back shiver and your stomach flutter at the same time. A smile that hinted at a thousand intentions without confirming a single one.
The landscape gradually changed around them. Buildings became rare, the roads more winding. They were now driving along the coast. To their right, the ocean stretched as far as the eye could see, deep blue streaked with white. Cliffs rose steeply, proud and silent. The wind rustled the wild grass, making the air vibrate with a distant song.
The car turned onto a small private road, hidden between two stone walls. At the end, a house appeared. Small, but elegant. Large bay windows, a pristine white façade, and a flat roof adorned with solar panels. A modern, almost minimalist architecture. The kind of house you'd expect to see in a magazine, not perched on a cliffside.
Clara hesitated for a moment.
They got out of the car. Daniel opened the trunk and grabbed their bags without a word. He walked to the door, entered a discreet code on a keypad hidden in the wall, then opened it.
Clara followed, still a bit dazed. Once inside, she stopped short.
Everything was bright. The living room, huge, opened directly onto the ocean through a bay window running along the wall. A large beige sofa, a few abstract paintings, and a glass coffee table. The atmosphere was both cold and refined.
— Daniel… whose house is this? she asked, almost in a whisper.
He set the bags down, then looked at her.
— It's mine.
She blinked.
— You bought it? How is that possible?
— No. It's an inheritance from my mother, he said simply, without emotion. What, you don't like it?
Clara shook her head, still processing.
— No, on the contrary… it's beautiful.
He shrugged, as if it didn't matter. But his eyes shimmered with a barely perceptible light.
— I know. Drop your bag, we're going for a walk.
Clara complied. She placed her bag on the sofa, giving one last glance around. There was an aura in that house. Something invisible, but present. A particular kind of silence.
She stepped back outside. Daniel was already waiting, hands in his pockets. He was staring at the ocean as if it belonged to him.
The fine sand tickled their feet. The salty air slid over their skin. The wind tossed Clara's hair, making it dance around her face. They walked without speaking. Daniel, slightly ahead. Clara, a bit behind, watching his movements, the way he never looked back.
She wondered what he was thinking. What he was planning. He was unpredictable, and yet, she followed without hesitation. Maybe because of the silent danger he carried. Or maybe because he was the only one who seemed capable of taking her somewhere else. Truly somewhere else.
After about ten minutes, he stopped. He stared at the horizon for a long moment, then turned to her.
— Want to go change and put on your swimsuit? The sea's perfect today.
Clara took a few seconds to answer. The ocean air tasted like freedom.
— Okay… I'll go get my things.
She turned around, her head still full of images. Daniel stayed there, alone, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the waves.
Clara reappeared a few minutes later, wearing a simple blue pareo tied around her waist, revealing a discreet but elegant black swimsuit. Her damp hair fell in soft strands over her shoulders, and an unusual shyness darkened her eyes as she walked toward Daniel.
He didn't say a word, but his gaze slowly traveled down her body and back up. Not with vulgarity, but with a clinical, unsettling focus. He gave a slight nod, as if to say she'd done well. Then he held out his hand.
— Come.
She took it, slightly surprised by the direct contact of his skin—warm despite the sea breeze. They descended the narrow sandy path that led directly to the beach. Not a soul in sight. No towels, no umbrellas, no children shouting. Just them, the wind, the water, and the distant cries of gulls.
Clara walked forward until the waves brushed her feet. The water was cool, but bearable. She closed her eyes, letting the sensation wash over her. The salt on her lips, the iodine air in her nostrils, the dancing light behind her eyelids. It was a simple, pure moment.
Behind her, Daniel stood still, hands in his pockets, staring out at the horizon as if he were watching something only he could see. A memory? A crack in the present?
— Aren't you coming in? Clara asked, turning around.
— I'm not much of a swimmer.
— You're joking, right? You've got a house by the sea and you don't swim?
He shrugged, amused.
— I prefer to watch.
Clara smiled and waded in deeper—up to her knees, then her waist. She let out a small yelp from the cold, but kept going, brave. She dove under, disappeared for a few seconds, and came back up laughing.
— It's perfect! she shouted.
Daniel watched her in silence. He didn't smile, but his eyes gleamed. Clara splashed, swam, laughed, and finally, slowly made her way back toward the shore.
When she stepped out of the water, dripping and breathless, Daniel was still there, arms crossed, calm as ever. He watched her approach, her steps slow, the sand clinging to her wet feet.
— You should try it, she said. Just once.
He tilted his head.
— It's not the sea that draws me in. It's what people become when they give in to it.
She frowned.
— You sound like a twisted psychologist again.
He let out a low, short laugh.
— Maybe. But look at you. You're different here. You're laughing. You're breathing. It's like you've forgotten the world.
Clara didn't know what to say. She looked away.
— Maybe I'm trying to forget. Yeah.
He stepped closer to her. Now there was only a breath of space between their bodies. The air hummed around them, heavy with some strange magnetism. Daniel raised a hand, slowly, and brushed away a droplet of water sliding along Clara's collarbone.
She didn't move. Her breathing grew shorter. Her heart pounded, but she didn't pull back.
— You see? he murmured. People are always the most real after the sea.
Silence fell. Then Daniel leaned in, gently, and pressed his lips to hers.
It was a calm kiss—controlled, but deeply intense. Not rushed. Not forceful. But filled with underground tension, a quiet promise. Clara responded with hesitation at first, then more fully. Her arms slid around his neck, her body pressed against his.
When they pulled apart, her cheeks were flushed, her breath uneven.
— Come, he said simply. It's time to go back.
He didn't wait for a response. He turned and walked toward the house. She followed him.
The sun was beginning its slow descent toward the sea, casting their two shadows side by side on the sand.
They went back home. Daniel started kissing her passionately again. His hands roamed everywhere.
Clara felt uneasy. "Daniel, we can't do this."
Daniel replied, "Yes, we can. Nothing is stopping us. We're adults, aren't we?"
"Yes, but still..."
Daniel continued his caresses. He started to undress Clara. He removed her bra. Clara was frozen. She let herself go.
Let yourself go, Daniel thought. I'm going to mark you forever. And then break you.
Daniel asked, "Don't you want to do it with me, Clara?" He added, "If you say no, I'll stop."
Clara was embarrassed. "No... continue. It's my first time. Please be gentle."
This whore is a virgin, Daniel thought. Incredible. Breaking her will be even easier.
Daniel said, "Don't worry, I will be."
He lifted her up and placed her on the bed. He resumed his caresses. He removed her bra and moved his hand down towards her private area.