The sun was brutal; too bright, too harsh, too annoying. Damien lounged on the edge of the infinity pool, oversized designer sunglasses shielding his eyes, but he still scowled as if the sun had personally offended him. His fingers tapped against the rim of his champagne glass, his irritation growing by the second.
The water was fine. The view? Stunning. The private villa? Expensive, as it should be. But something wasn’t right. And Damien hated when things weren’t right.
With a huff, he turned his head, lower lip jutting out in a pout.
“This pool float is defective,” he announced, pushing at the luxurious, gold accented inflatable with a dramatic flick of his wrist. It barely wobbled.
“It’s supposed to be soft, not feel like I’m lying on a goddamn rock.” He shifted, sighing as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
“And don’t even get me started on this drink. Where’s the crushed ice? This is practically lukewarm! Am I supposed to just suffer like this?” Another sigh. Deeper. More theatrical. He tilted his head back, dramatically wiping a nonexistent tear from beneath his sunglasses.
“Honestly, I don’t even know why I bother vacationing if I have to deal with this level of incompetence.” He turned his gaze back to you, lips curling into a slow, deliberate smirk.
“Fix it,” he purred, tapping one finger against his glass.
“Before I really lose my patience.”