2. In Dust and Ashes

 

Shirley：

I dashed out of the exhibition hall, but the rain showed no signs of letting up.

With a frown, I plunged into the downpour.

Sliding into the car, a dull ache shot through my lower back. "Ugh," I couldn't help but groan.

God, it hurt so bad... I felt like I was gonna die right here.

Worse still, the car wheezed and coughed, but refused to start.

"Not now," I muttered, slamming my palm on the steering wheel in frustration and collapsing over it.

Please, please don't let this eighteen-year-old used car break down now. Repairs would cost a damn fortune!

A gentle tap on the window startled me. Connor stood outside, holding a large umbrella.

"Get in my car, unless you want to be stuck here."

"No thanks."

"Planning to wait until dawn? You won't find a cab at this hour."

Considering the important work I had tomorrow, I relented. I pulled open the car door and stepped under his umbrella.

Three years had passed. Connor had upgraded to an even more luxurious car, complete with a chauffeur, no less.

Soaked and grimy, I gingerly settled into the back seat, pressing myself against the door, maintaining as much distance from him as possible.

The cool blast of the air conditioning made me hug my arms, and I stared out the window.

"Where to?" he asked.

"137 Briarview Road, Maple Court."

He paused. "You live there?"

I felt his intense gaze on me and lazily looked out the window.

"Is there a problem?"

Briarview Road had a notorious reputation: poor, dilapidated, and unsafe.

But what was wrong with living in a poor neighborhood? I was poor.

He studied me for a long moment, as if he wanted to say something, but then he just... didn't.

Instead, he reached over and turned off the rear air conditioning. The tension in my jaw, which I hadn't realized was there, finally eased.

"What, still wearing that bracelet?" His voice held a hint of amusement.

Damn it! I forgot to take it off!

I quickly covered my left hand with my purse.

"Oh, a woman can never have too much jewelry," I said casually.

It was a gift from him, engraved with both our names.

Next, his navy blue jacket was draped over me, carrying his warmth and his scent.

I gritted my teeth. "Take it back. I can't afford to replace it."

He scoffed playfully, "Consider it a gift. Wouldn't want you freezing to death in my car, that'd be bad luck."

His jacket really was warm. I selfishly pulled it tighter around myself.

My head felt heavy, and I mumbled a half-conscious "Thanks."

--

The insistent ring of my phone alarm jolted me awake the next morning.

My head throbbed as if it would split open.

I looked around, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. My eyes widened. A hotel?!

I shot upright, trying to piece together the previous night.

All I could recall was losing consciousness shortly after getting into Connor's car.

Now, I was wearing a hotel bathrobe, my hair felt clean and soft, and there was a faint medicinal scent around my waist.

I gasped sharply.

He bathed me? Changed my robe?!

“Damn it! Did he touch me?!”

My hair practically stood on end.

Panicked, I ran my hands all over my body in a frenzy.

In the hazy corners of my memory, I vaguely remembered hands occasionally touching my forehead, wiping away sweat.

After my hasty self-examination, I was fairly certain- nothing had happened between us.

I finally let out a shaky breath of relief.

A message popped up on my phone:

You had a fever. I gave you medicine. The rest is on the nightstand.

I'd deleted him ages ago. How the hell did he get back into my contacts?

I was just about to block him for good when I remembered the transfer he'd made yesterday.

I pulled up my banking app, and a gasp caught in my throat. A string of zeros!

My hand trembled. I nearly dropped the phone.

Was this money... compensation? Or just another show of power?

I’d never taken a cent more than I’d earned. But...

Damn it! I really needed the money!

Two years ago, I drained his card dry trying to save my mom after the car accident.

She still didn’t make it.

Then Coonor’s fiancée, Vanessa, meddled, ensuring every company where I aced an interview mysteriously rejected me.

I could barely afford the rent for my tiny apartment; Josh was the only lifeline keeping me afloat in a sea of despair.

That helpless feeling—when fate wraps its hands around your throat and squeezes—

I knew it too well.

The smirk on Coonor’s lips when he transferred the money?

It looked just like the one he wore three years ago... When he told me to get lost.

I stared at the screen and let out a sharp laugh.

You like solving problems with money, Coonor?

Fine.

I’ll give you plenty of chances to throw your money at.

Without hesitation, I opened the shopping app and bought every dress I'd bookmarked but never dared to buy.

The phone rang. It was Josh.

"Shirley, don't be late for the Virex Group proposal review meeting. I just got to the airport. You hold things down till I’m back."

I scrambled to my feet, quickly composing myself.

"Don't worry, I'm on my way."

I rushed home, curled my hair into loose waves, slipped into a soft green power suit, and meticulously applied my makeup.

Looking in the mirror, vibrant and polished, I told myself, "Shirley, you can do this!"

I hailed a cab and headed straight for the Virex Group building.

As I strode into the Virex Group office building in my six-inch heels, I felt the appreciative glances from around me.

Yes, I was attractive—a shapely, toned figure, full breasts, and long legs. But I'd never seen that as my advantage.

This office building sat in the most expensive, prime location.

Every time I stepped inside and saw the opulent workspace and the bustling employees, I felt a pang of envy, dreaming of the day I might work in a place like this.

The elevator doors ahead were beginning to close. I broke into a short run.

"Please, wait!"

I squeezed in just as they were about to seal shut.

"Thank you."

The words were barely out of my mouth when an inexplicable pressure descended, and the atmosphere in the small space became heavy, almost unnerving.

A faint, woody cologne permeated the confined area, mixing with a strangely familiar scent.

My heart skipped a beat.

A tall, imposing man stood like a statue in the center of the elevator.

The crisp lines of his tailored shirt hugged his broad chest, outlining powerful muscles that subtly flexed with each breath, exuding a sensual, almost primal dominance.

I slowly lifted my eyes.

Steel-blue met mine.

Cold. Distant. Intense.

Connor Rogers!

My breath hitched. My mind went blank.