3. Embarrassed

Shirley POV

I instinctively pulled my handbag over my wrist, forcing a casual smile.

"Oh, you know how it is. A woman can never have too much jewelry."

The bracelet was one we'd designed together and had custom-made at a jeweler, back when we were still stupidly in love.

Our initials were engraved on the inside.

For reasons I couldn't explain, even during those bitter, hate-filled months after the breakup, I could never bring myself to throw it away.

I wore it every single day.

A soft rustle broke my thoughts, and the next thing I knew, his navy-blue suit jacket was draped over my shoulders.

"This should keep you warm," he said, his voice as warm as the fabric.

The familiar sensation made my chest tighten; tears pricked my eyes before I could stop them.

I kept my gaze fixed on the window, peeled the jacket off, and shoved it back at him.

"Take it. If I stain it, I can't afford to replace it," I said, my voice shaking from the cold.

The jacket came right back over my shoulders.

"Stop being stubborn. You're freezing," he murmured.

Goddammit, it was warm.

I gave in, pulling it tighter around me, letting the heat sink into my skin.

My rain-soaked head felt heavier by the second.

"Thanks," I mumbled before everything went black.

The alarm on my phone dragged me out of sleep at dawn.

My skull throbbed like it was splitting in two.

I sat up with a jolt, looking around in a daze.

A hotel room.

My heart skipped.

Hotel?!

I tried to piece the night together.

The last thing I remembered was getting into Connor's car. I must've passed out shortly after.

Now I was wearing a hotel robe, my hair was clean and fluffy, and there was a faint medicinal scent clinging to my skin.

A sharp breath escaped me.

He… bathed me? Changed my clothes?!

"Damn it! Did he touch me?!" My hair practically stood on end.

Through the haze, flashes came back— Connor holding me, his cool lips tracing down my cheeks, my neck, my chest.

I remembered the dizziness, how weak I'd felt when I tried to push him away.

And his touch, God, that familiar tenderness, brought a kind of happiness I hadn't felt in years.

Before I knew it, my arms had wrapped around his neck, clinging to the sensations, to the heat pooling low in my stomach.

Did we… have sex?

Panicked, I ran my hands all over my body, down between my thighs.

Nothing hurt. Nothing felt… different.

I let out a shaky sigh of relief.

A notification blinked on my phone:

You had a fever. I gave you some meds. The rest are on the nightstand.

I'd deleted him from my contacts the day we broke up. He must've added himself again last night.

I was about to text him a furious reply when I remembered the bank transfer.

Sliding to my balance, I froze.

$50,000!

My hand trembled. I gripped the phone, counting the zeros again and again.

I'd thought he'd maybe cover a few hundred, a thousand at most.

Was this… compensation? Or a show of power?

I'd never accepted more than what I'd earned. But...

Goddamn it! 

I was broke! 

And the money was real!

Three years ago, we'd been madly in love. He'd talked about marriage once his career stabilized.

I'd lived wrapped in the honeyed haze of love, right up until that anniversary trip.

He'd taken me to the most luxurious suite in the city's top hotel.

For three days, we'd done nothing but make love.

His hands gripped my hips as he thrust deep and relentless, pounded into my slick heat until I arched and cried out; over and over. 

He lifted me higher, trapping my legs around his waist as the savage rhythm intensified.

I felt his teeth worry my shoulder, leaving damp, urgent marks. His thick cock drove forward in savage rhythm, claiming every soft, vulnerable angle of my body.

Every corner of that suite had become our battlefield, our playground.

I'd kissed down his V-lines, worshipped him until he lost control in my mouth, until we both came undone in each other's arms again and again.

That was our third anniversary.

I thought there would be so many more.

But on the third day, after god knows which round, he suddenly said,

"Shirley, let's break up."

I stared at him for a full minute, unable to speak. Finally, I forced a brittle laugh.

"Connor… come on. That's a joke, right? You're not serious?"

Tears streamed down my face, unstoppable.

My heart was being sliced into ribbons, each breath sharper than the last.

He watched me silently, his gray-blue eyes as cold as winter ice.

His voice, when it came, was light, almost careless.

"I'm not joking. I was only ever having fun. And now I'm done."

He pulled a bank card from his wallet and tossed it at my feet.

"There's more than enough on there to pay for these three years. More than most people will ever see in their lives. I don't owe you anything. Take it and go."

Sobbing, I threw myself into his arms.

"Connor, I don't want your money. I just want you. You're tired from work, right? That's fine. I'll stay quiet, I'll just be here with you—"

He pushed me away, eyes cold.

"Take the money and leave. I don't ever want to see you again."

I'd never seen that look on him before. It gutted me.

Still crying, I clung to his neck.

"Connor, you can't mean this. You told me you loved me. Over and over—"

He pried my hands off and let out a cold, mocking laugh.

"I lied. How could I ever love you?"

My legs gave out. I crumpled to the carpet, numb.

I don't remember leaving that hotel, only the sting between my legs and the bank card clenched in my hand.

For a week after, I cried every time I thought of him.

And yesterday, when he transferred me that obscene amount of money, that same disdainful smile played at his lips. The same one from three years ago.

God, how I hated it.

I hated him for it.

I stared at my phone, then let out a cold laugh.

If he was willing to give, why should I feel guilty?

In fact, maybe he should give me even more.

I opened my favorite shopping App and splurged on dresses I'd eyed for months but never dared add to the cart.

My phone rang.

It was Josh.

"Shirley, don't be late for Virex Group's proposal review meeting. I am ready to board. Hold the fort for me."

I scrambled out of bed, pulling myself together.

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