LOGINHer top was on the kitchen floor. His shirt was open. His hands were at her back. The rain was loud against the window and there was nothing left between them except the last three years and the breath neither of them was taking. Then headlights swept across the wall. Her mother's car. That was how close it got. That was how far gone they both were , and that was only two weeks after the wedding. Zara Cole knows exactly what she is doing. She knows Ethan Harlow is her mother's husband. She knows every reason this has to stop. She just can't seem to make herself mean it and neither, it turns out, can he. Some things don't stay buried. No matter how many walls you build.
View MoreI majestically walked into class knowing that I was 10 minutes late but I didn't care. In fact, I had a lazy grin on my face.
Everyone, including the teacher, had their eyes on me. The girls began to murmur and squeal, gazing at me with dreamy eyes. Some guys looked at me with anger while some with envy. My friends, who were sitting at the back had smiles on their faces. I made my way toward them.
"You're late Aito-kun," Miss Park said to me in her thick Korean accent.
I just smiled at her. The kind of smile I knew made girls weak. I've been told that it's very seductive. It worked because young, single Miss Park suddenly flushed pink. "Sensei, I forgot to set up my alarm last night. It won't happen again" I said, slowly gazing at her from head to toe, purposely letting my eyes linger on her chest.
"By the way Sensei, you look really beautiful today" I complimented, topping it with a wink.
Miss Park was immediately appeased. She blushed even harder. "T-Thank you Aito-kun. Have a seat. Don't be late next time"
I flashed her another smile and nodded earnestly. Miss Park toned down her blushing and continued to teach.
I quickly took my usual seat by the window, sighing as I dropped my bag on the floor. Women were so easy. Seemed like my plan for Miss Park would flow smoothly. It won't take long before I ruin her life completely. She won't even see it coming. The stupid bitch. I loosened my tie and pulled up the sleeves of my uniform. Of course It wasn't allowed and I was clearly breaking the dress code but I didn't care.
"Yo man" I heard my best friend, Haruto whisper. "Sensei definitely likes you. You think it'll work?"
I let out a smug smile. "Of course. By tonight, she'll be putty in my hands and we'll have our revenge"
Haruto shook his head, muttering something along the lines of "cocky bastard" but I paid him no mind. Nothing could spoil my good mood. Miss Park would definitely get what she deserves.
Shima Haruto is my best friend. He's tall and handsome, with light brown hair and chocolate coloured eyes. He's a basketball player and a hardcore Kpop fan. His dream is to join a kpop band as a rapper. We've been friends since we were toddlers. I trust him with life and vice versa. He's the only one who understands the pain I'm going through. Every second of every single day.
My name is Yamamoto Aito and I am the most popular, most handsome guy in the school. I have platinum blonde hair which I'm too lazy to comb so it's always messy but people tell me it makes me look sexy. I have eyes like crystals. Brown but glassy. A slim pointed nose, pretty pink lips, and smooth clear pale skin. Not a single blemish could be seen. Thanks to my family's good genes.
I'm of average height and I hate exercise but Haruto makes me visit the gym with him twice a week so I've got lean well-sculpted muscles and a six-pack. Every girl I've come across wants to be with me and every guy wants to be me. I don't blame them though. I'm filthy rich, smart and handsome. Even I want me.
My parents are business tycoons and they have huge power over the school so no one dares to defy me unless they were ready to lose their jobs and never find one again in the future. I basically own the place and the people in it which feeds my ever-growing pride.
I took out my maths notebook and began to jot down a few equations on the board when I noticed someone new sitting across from me. The guy had sleek dark hair. I could only see his side view which was quite good-looking. I also noticed a few girls sneaking glances at the new guy. Huh. He must be handsome then. When did he even join and I didn't know about it?
I tapped on Yua’s shoulder who was sitting in front of me. She turned, gazing at me with a look that said she wanted to bury me alive and asked; "What?"
Suzuki Yua is one of my friends. Her shoulder-length hair was dyed a dark purple colour and she had dark cat-like eyes. Yua is a beauty with a cold temperament. Also rich and proud. Our parents are friends as well as business partners but I don't like her one bit. She's just a stepping stone for me to achieve what I want. When I'm done, I'll destroy her too.
"Who's he?" I asked, nodding slightly in the new guy's direction.
Yua didn't have to look to know who I was talking about. She sneered. "If you had come earlier, you would know. I was left alone with stupid Haruto"
I rolled my eyes. I really didn't care. She's so annoying and she keeps grudges over the littlest things. Sometimes I wish I could take the butt of my pencil and erase her from the surface of this universe. "Quit complaining like a child Yua-chan" I groaned. "I can't always be around you. Just answer my question"
She scoffed, flashing me a cold smile. "If you're so curious, why don't you ask him yourself?"
"Yua, Aito-kun, is there something you want to share with the class?" Miss Park asked when she noticed they weren't paying attention. Shit. I thought she was going to give us detention straight away then I noticed she was full-on glaring at Yua but not me. Sweet. I could totally use this to my advantage. The entire class turned to look at us both. Including the new guy.
I put on my usual smile, eyes sweeping over the new guy before landing on Miss Park. "Not at all Sensei. It's just that Yua-chan keeps pestering me so I can't concentrate"
The girls in the class gave Yua death glares.
"Is that so?" Miss Park asked to which I earnestly nodded before Yua, who was shocked, could say a thing.
By Monday morning, the cold rain over the New Town had cleared into a sharp, brittle autumn sky.The George Street office was no longer an empty shell. Over the weekend, three heavy oak drafting tables had arrived from a local workshop, set up along the high arched windows where the pale sun poured across the drawing boards. The concrete floor smelled of warm polish, and the long trestle table in the center was now stacked neatly with leather trace cases, reference binders, and two new desktop monitors.I stood over my drafting table, leaning on both hands, a pair of dark rimmed glasses resting on my nose. Spread across the white board were the preliminary elevations for the Leith waterfront commission.I held a red fine tip pen over the structural section of the east gallery, checking the load tolerances against the site engineer's updated bedrock report.Footsteps sounded behind me—slow, steady, and unhurried.Ethan stopped right beside my table. He was wearing a dark charcoal suit
The high ceilinged bedroom was quiet, filled only with the soft, muted light filtering through the linen blinds.In the corner stood a massive nineteenth century oak wardrobe that Ethan and I had spent two hours positioning against the far wall earlier that morning. Its brass handles were tarnished, and the heavy doors smelled faintly of beeswax and old timber.I sat on the edge of the mattress, my legs crossed, watching Ethan lift a stack of my folded wool sweaters out of the second box. He moved with a quiet, deliberate care that made my heart ache in the best possible way unfolding each piece, smoothing the fabric with his broad palms, and placing them side by side on the deep wooden shelves."You don't have to unpack my clothes for me," I said softly, a faint smile touching my lips as I leaned my chin in my hand.Ethan didn't pause. He reached into the box for my heavy charcoal coat, shaking it out gently before sliding a wooden hanger through the shoulders."I want to," he said,
Chapter 68: The DeliveryBy Friday afternoon, the heavy sea mist had rolled in off the Firth of Forth, wrapping Stockbridge in a thick, quiet blanket of dark grey.I sat on the edge of the linen sofa in the drawing room, a mug of tea cooling in my hands, staring at the empty space beside the fireplace. Every time a heavy vehicle rumbled over the cobbles of Carlton Street below, my posture went rigid, my ears straining for the sound of air brakes or a horn.Ethan came out of the kitchen, wearing a dark navy wool jumper, his hair slightly damp from the shower. He didn't say anything to fill the space. He walked over to the sofa, sat down beside me, and stretched his long arm over the back cushion, his fingers gently brushing the nape of my neck."It's only three o'clock," he said quietly, his thumb trailing down the curve of my shoulder. "The courier window runs until six.""I know," I murmured, resting my head against his chest, breathing in the clean scent of soap and cedarwood that c
The wind coming off the Firth of Forth was razor sharp, whipping across the wet concrete pier and cutting through the layers of my heavy wool coat.I pulled my yellow hard hat tighter over my head, holding my clipboard against my ribs so the site sheets wouldn't tear free in the gale. Beside me, Ethan stood with his feet braced wide on the muddy gravel, his slate grey overcoat buttoned to his chin, his clear grey eyes squinting up at the exposed stone face of the nineteenth century warehouse."The structural timber on the second floor is worse than the initial core samples showed," I yelled over the roar of the wind and the rhythmic thudding of a nearby pile driver.Ethan turned his head, stepping an inch closer so his shoulder blocked the worst of the spray blowing off the harbour basin. He reached out, his gloved fingers taking the edge of my clipboard so I didn't have to fight the wind alone."Show me," he said, his voice deep and steady right beside my ear.I pointed a gloved fing
The house smelled the same. Familiar. That was the first thing Zara Cole noticed as she stepped through the front door — that particular combination of her mother's vanilla candles, old oak floorboards and something else that had no name but meant home in the most complicated way possible. 3 years
The ceremony was beautiful.That was the honest truth and Zara held onto it. Her mother was radiant in ivory silk, her face open and unguarded in a way that Zara hadn't seen in years, and Zara stood beside her at the altar in deep burgundy and meant every smile she gave because Linda deserved every
She couldn't sleep. Midnight. Zara lay on top of the covers in her childhood bedroom, still wearing her dress because she hadn't gotten around to changing and now it seemed like too much effort, staring at the ceiling with the particular stillness of someone who had stopped fighting their own thou
"Zara, this is Ethan. Ethan — my daughter."He extended his hand.She shook it.The handshake lasted one second longer than it should have. His grip was firm and warm and entirely unhurried, and she felt it travel from her palm up through her wrist and settle somewhere it had no business settling.






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