Home / Romance / Beg For It / 2.THE PAST AT MY DOOR

Share

2.THE PAST AT MY DOOR

Author: Lina Fajita
last update Last Updated: 2025-08-06 03:06:23

ARDEN

I didn’t sleep.

I told myself I was too busy to dwell on Rhett’s unexpected reappearance—that my mind was spinning from a packed schedule, upcoming weddings to coordinate, endless emails to answer. But if that were true, I wouldn’t have found myself at two in the morning, sitting cross-legged on my couch, nursing a mug of chamomile tea that had gone cold twenty minutes ago, staring at the rain streaking down the window.

The city outside was muffled. Streetlights bled into puddles, and the hum of late-night traffic was nothing more than a distant pulse. My reflection in the glass looked pale, shadowed. I hated that I recognized the expression—like I was bracing for a storm that had already begun.

Rhett Maddox, back in my life.

Even the thought of his name sent a ripple through me, part fury, part something dangerously close to longing. I hadn’t felt that combination in years. I’d worked too hard to bury it.

By morning, I was all business again. That was the only way to survive a day when the past was nipping at your heels—bury yourself in the present. My assistant, Lila, greeted me at the studio with her usual too-bright smile and a latte the size of my head.

“You look… tired,” she said carefully, as if “tired” was code for something else.

“I’m fine,” I said, taking the latte. “We have the Hargraves’ final walkthrough today, right?”

Lila nodded, scanning her tablet. “And a new inquiry came in late last night for a corporate fundraiser. The client’s name—”

“Don’t,” I said quickly. Too quickly.

Her brows knit. “You already know?”

“Yeah.” I took a long sip of my coffee. The caffeine didn’t help. “I know.”

She hesitated like she wanted to press, but I gave her my best don’t-push-me look and walked into my office. The air inside was still faintly scented with eucalyptus from the diffuser I kept running. Normally, it was calming. Today, it barely cut through the tension wound tight between my ribs.

I opened my laptop, telling myself to focus on contracts. Instead, my inbox taunted me with a new message.

From: Rhett Calloway

Subject: Fundraiser Proposal

I clicked it before I could stop myself.

***********************************

Arden,

I meant what I said last night. This isn’t about the past—it’s about the program. I’ve attached an outline for the event. I’d like to meet tomorrow to go over details. Coffee? Or we can keep it here at your studio, if that’s easier.

– R

P.S. I’ll try not to drip on your floors this time.

************************************

The nerve of him.

The absolute, infuriating audacity to waltz back into my life and make jokes. I should’ve deleted the email on sight. I even hovered over the trash icon, ready to erase it and the thread of temptation it carried. But my eyes snagged on the event outline he’d attached.

I skimmed it.

And damn it, it was good.

Detailed. Thoughtful. Every line was practical and well-planned, the kind of work I would’ve been proud to hand to a client myself. Worse, it was exactly the kind of fundraiser I would want to take on—something with purpose. Something that mattered.

I sat back in my chair, staring at the screen like it might give me answers. All it did was reflect the obvious: saying yes would mean letting Rhett back in. And that was dangerous. I’d learned the hard way that letting him in meant eventually watching him walk away.

By mid-afternoon, I’d thrown myself into the Hargrave walkthrough, determined to keep my mind elsewhere. The venue was a converted greenhouse—lush, romantic, dripping with greenery under strings of warm fairy lights. I lost myself in the details: place settings, seating charts, the gentle glow of candles against the glass walls. My world was built on details. If I focused hard enough, maybe I could forget the big picture—the one where Rhett’s shadow lingered at the edges.

But the universe, apparently, had other plans.

When I returned to the studio just after six, the last of the daylight fading behind the skyline, he was there.

Sitting on the edge of my reception desk.

Like he owned it.

“Lila let me in,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t worry, she’s already left. Said something about not wanting to be caught between us.”

“She’s smart,” I muttered, stepping past him to set down my portfolio. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving us both an email chain.” He slid off the desk, closing the distance between us in two easy strides. “I figured it’d be easier to talk in person.”

I crossed my arms. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Really?” His voice was soft now, but there was an edge to it. “Because I think there’s a lot.”

“About the fundraiser?” I asked, my tone dripping with skepticism.

“About that. And maybe a little about why you look like you haven’t slept.”

I hated that he noticed. Hated it even more that his eyes softened, just slightly, as he studied me. “Don’t,” I warned.

“Don’t what?”He said.

“Don’t look at me like you remember how I take my coffee, or that you know what keeps me up at night. You lost that right a long time ago.” I snapped.

Something flickered in his gaze. Regret, maybe. “I’m not here to hurt you, Arden.” Rhett said gently

“Good,” I said tightly. “Because you don’t get another chance.”

The silence that followed stretched, heavy but not empty. It was filled with everything we weren’t saying, the air thick enough to choke on.

Finally, he exhaled, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Just… read the proposal. If you say no after that, I’ll leave you alone.”

I should have refused on principle. But something in his voice—steady, almost pleading—made me hesitate.

“Fine,” I said. “One condition. We keep it strictly professional. No walking down memory lane. No—”

“—dripping water on your floors,” he finished, the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth.

I rolled my eyes, but my lips betrayed me with the faintest twitch. “You get one meeting. That’s it.”

His smile widened, slow and sure. “One’s all I need.”

After he left, I locked the door and leaned against it, staring into the dim studio. The air felt charged, like the room had been holding its breath the whole time he was here.

One meeting, I told myself. Just one.

Tho to be honest, I already knew it wouldn’t end there.

Continue to read this book for free
Scan code to download App

Latest chapter

  • Beg For It   15.FRACTURES AND FOUNDATIONS

    ARDEN’S POVThe following evening is heavier than I expect.Rhett tells me his family is coming for dinner, the kind of announcement that feels less like an invitation and more like a storm warning. His voice is flat when he says it, his eyes avoiding mine like he’s bracing for impact.And maybe he’s right to. Because the moment I step into that room—into the orbit of the entire Langston family—I feel the weight of expectation settle on me like a cloak I never asked to wear.There are so many of them.His mother, elegant but weary, with eyes that look like Rhett’s but softer, touched with years of worry. His father, tall and commanding, carrying silence the way Rhett carries fire. And then, Caleb—already leaning back in his chair, arms folded, grinning at me like he’s been waiting all day for this.“Arden,” his mother says, stepping forward first, her hands warm as they envelop mine. “We’ve heard so much about you.”I glance at Rhett, startled, but his face doesn’t give anything away.

  • Beg For It   14.SHADOWS AND REFLECTIONS

    ARDEN’S POVI don’t sleep much after the kiss.Every time I close my eyes, I feel it again—his mouth on mine, his hand tangled in my hair, the way my heart raced like it was about to break out of my chest. And worse than the kiss itself is what came after. The silence. Rhett pulled back, brushed his thumb across my cheek like he wasn’t sure if he should even be touching me, and then walked away without a word.Now the morning feels too bright, too loud, and I’m carrying that kiss around like a secret I can’t put down.But there’s no time to dwell. My dad shows up before I even finish breakfast. He doesn’t knock, just lets himself in like he always has, and the sound of his boots across the floor makes my stomach tighten.“Arden.” His voice is sharp, clipped, already disappointed before we’ve even exchanged a proper word.“Morning,” I say, keeping my tone as even as possible.He doesn’t sit. Doesn’t smile. He just looks at me the way he always does—like I’m not living up to something I

  • Beg For It   13. THE EDGE OF SURRENDER

    ARDEN'S POVThe air between us has been different all day- charged, taut, like a wire stretched too tight. Rhett has been everywhere I turn. Not in an obvious way, but in that infuriating , caculated manner of his where I can't decide if he's trying to avoid me or corner me. Either way, I', aware of him in every room, every glanced, ebvery subtle shift of his weight.It's maddening.I've been replaying our last conversation- those clipped words, the way his jaw tightened, how his eyes held me like he was deciding whether to let me in or shut me out completely. And now, hours later, he's leaning casually against the kitchen counter, slipping coffee like he hasn't been haunting my thoughts since sunrise.I stop in the doorway, pretending to scroll through my phone, just so I have a second to gather myself. The problem is, I can feel him watchingme without even looking up. It's like my skin knows when he's near."You planning to stand there all day," he drawls, "or are you going to come

  • Beg For It   12.QUIET FLAMES

    The city lights spilled through the sheer curtains of my apartment, painting flickers of gold across the hardwood floor. Outside, the world buzzed in a low hum — cars, distant laughter, the usual city soundtrack that somehow felt muffled in here, like I was trapped in a bubble made of glass and anticipation.I sat curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over my legs, the soft rustle of fabric the only sound besides the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall. My phone rested face down beside me, a silent monument to the conversation I hadn’t yet summoned the courage to send.Rhett.His name alone could twist my stomach in knots and simultaneously calm the storm inside me. But right now, the tension between us wasn’t like the explosive heat I’d grown used to — it was something quieter, more complicated. A simmering flame just beneath the surface, dangerous only if I let it burn out of control.The night before replayed in my mind like a slow-motion scene in a film, every look, every wo

  • Beg For It   11.THE WORLD OUTSIDE

    ARDENThe afternoon air had that late autumn bite to it, crisp and dry, the kind that carries the smell of wood smoke from blocks away. I stood in front of my easel by the window, brush in hand, trying to keep my focus on the piece in fron of me. But my thoughts kept drifting to yesterday-Rhett's voice in my truck, the way his eyes softened when looked at me, like he was seeing me and not just the idea of me.It was strange, having him in my apartment again. Stranger still that it didn't feel like a mistake.I was halfway through shading the curve of the figure's shoulder when my phone buzzed on the counter. I wiped my paint-strained hands on my sweater before checking it.Rhett: You free tonight?A flicker of anticipation lit low in my stomach. Me: Maybe.Rhett: Not good enough. Dinner with me? I promise not to burn anything this time. Me: Bold of you to assume I'd let you cook.Rhett: Fine. I'll order in. Pick you up at 6.I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my mouth. He was m

  • Beg For It   10.LITTLE CRACKS IN THE WALL

    ARDENThe next morning, the rain hadn't stopped. It fell in steady sheets outside my apartment windows, streaking the glass like the sky itself had decided to wash everything clean. I sat at myo kitchen table, nursing my coffee, trying to ignore the restless hum in my chest.It had been three days since Rhett brought my sketchbook over. Three days of texts that didn't feel like obligation..Three days of texts that didn't feel like obligation.Three days of him showing u- not with grand gesture, but with something quieter, something steadier.And maybe that was what unsettled me the most.At 10:17 a.m., my phone buzzed. His name lit up my screen.Rhett: Come downstairs.I stared at it for a full minute before typing back.Me: Why?Rhett: You'll seeIn grabbed my sweater and headed down, the smell of rain thick in the air as soon as I stepped outside. Rhett truck was parked at the curb, and he leaned against the side of it, hair damp from the drizzle."Youdidn’t tell me you were bringin

More Chapters
Explore and read good novels for free
Free access to a vast number of good novels on GoodNovel app. Download the books you like and read anywhere & anytime.
Read books for free on the app
SCAN CODE TO READ ON APP
DMCA.com Protection Status