I LOVED HIM BEFORE HE HAD EVERYTHING

Amara Kensington had everything.

At twenty-one, she lived in a mansion larger than most hotels, drove cars that cost more than houses, and wore jewelry that could change someone's life.

Everyone who saw her thought she was lucky.

They were wrong.

Amara sat alone at the long dining table, staring at the untouched breakfast in front of her.

Across the table, her father was reading the newspaper.

Vincent Kensington never ate without reading.

He never smiled without a reason.

And he never made a decision without thinking about the Kensington name.

Vincent: "You're late."

Amara looked at the clock.

Amara: "It's eight in the morning."

Vincent lowered the newspaper.

Vincent: "Breakfast begins at seven."

Amara sighed.

Amara: "Good morning to you too, Dad."

Vincent returned his attention to the newspaper.

Vincent: "Your schedule is full today."

Amara picked up her coffee.

Amara: "I didn't know I had a schedule."

Vincent: "You do."

Amara: "What am I doing?"

Vincent folded the newspaper.

Vincent: "Lunch with the Brooks family."

Amara immediately frowned.

Amara: "Again?"

Vincent: "Nathaniel will be there."

Amara: "Of course he will."

Vincent watched her carefully.

Vincent: "You should spend more time with him."

Amara: "Why?"

Vincent: "Because he's the kind of man you should marry."

Amara placed her cup down.

Amara: "You mean he's rich."

Vincent: "He's responsible."

Amara: "He's rich."

Vincent: "He's educated."

Amara: "He's rich."

Vincent's jaw tightened.

Vincent: "And he's from a respectable family."

Amara stood.

Amara: "So are we."

Vincent: "Exactly."

Amara grabbed her bag.

Vincent: "Where are you going?"

Amara: "Out."

Vincent: "You have lunch."

Amara: "Cancel it."

Vincent: "Amara."

She stopped.

Vincent: "One day, you'll understand why I make these decisions for you."

Amara looked at him.

Amara: "Maybe one day you'll understand that they're my decisions to make."

She walked away before he could respond.

Outside the mansion, Amara climbed into her car.

For the first time that morning, she smiled.

She didn't want lunch with Nathaniel.

She didn't want another business meeting.

She didn't want to hear about marriage.

She wanted freedom.

So she drove.

Without a destination.

Without security.

Without telling anyone where she was going.

It was the one thing her father hated most.

Amara drove farther from the city until the buildings became smaller and the roads became quieter.

Then—

The car stopped.

Amara frowned.

Amara: "No."

She turned the key again.

Nothing.

Amara tried again.

Still nothing.

Amara hit the steering wheel.

Amara: "You have got to be kidding me."

She stepped outside.

The hood was still warm.

She opened it and stared at the engine.

She knew absolutely nothing about cars.

Amara pulled out her phone.

No signal.

Amara: "Perfect."

Rain clouds gathered above her.

A few drops landed on her windshield.

Then more.

Within minutes, heavy rain poured down.

Amara stood beside her expensive car, completely helpless.

A motorcycle appeared in the distance.

It slowed beside her.

A young man stepped off.

He wore an old black jacket, faded jeans, and worn-out boots.

His hands were stained with grease.

He looked at the car.

Then at Amara.

Then back at the car.

Man: "Broken?"

Amara crossed her arms.

Amara: "Apparently."

Man: "You know what's wrong with it?"

Amara: "If I knew, would I be standing here?"

The man smiled.

Man: "Fair point."

He walked toward the hood.

Amara watched him suspiciously.

Amara: "What are you doing?"

Man: "Trying to help."

Amara: "Are you a mechanic?"

Man: "Sometimes."

Amara raised an eyebrow.

Amara: "Sometimes?"

Man: "I'm a mechanic when people pay me."

Amara: "And when they don't?"

Man: "I'm unemployed."

Despite herself, Amara laughed.

The man looked at her.

Man: "You think that's funny?"

Amara: "A little."

Man: "Glad I could entertain you."

He leaned over the engine.

After several minutes, he shook his head.

Man: "Battery's dead."

Amara: "Can you fix it?"

Man: "Not here."

Amara groaned.

Amara: "What am I supposed to do?"

Man: "Call someone."

Amara showed him her phone.

Amara: "No signal."

He looked around.

Man: "There's a repair shop about two kilometers from here."

Amara stared at him.

Amara: "Two kilometers?"

Man: "Yes."

Amara looked down at her expensive heels.

Then at the muddy road.

Amara: "I'm not walking two kilometers."

The man laughed.

Man: "Then I guess you're staying here."

Amara glared at him.

Amara: "You're not very helpful."

Man: "And you're not very grateful."

Amara: "I didn't ask you to help."

He closed the hood.

Man: "You're right."

He walked back toward his motorcycle.

Amara watched him.

For some reason, she didn't want him to leave.

Amara: "Wait."

He stopped.

Man: "Yes?"

Amara hesitated.

Amara: "Can you take me to the repair shop?"

He looked at her heels.

Then at her expensive dress.

Then back at her.

Man: "On my motorcycle?"

Amara nodded.

Man: "You sure?"

Amara: "No."

He smiled.

Man: "At least you're honest."

He handed her a spare helmet.

Amara stared at it.

Amara: "Does this even fit?"

Man: "Probably."

Amara: "Probably?"

Man: "Princess, you're making this complicated."

She froze.

Amara: "Did you just call me Princess?"

He smiled.

Man: "You look like one."

Amara rolled her eyes.

Amara: "I don't like it."

Man: "Too bad."

She put on the helmet.

For the first time in her life, Amara Kensington climbed onto an old motorcycle with a complete stranger.

She didn't know his name.

She didn't know where he lived.

She didn't know that he had barely enough money to survive.

And she certainly didn't know that the poor mechanic sitting in front of her would become the greatest love of her life.

The motorcycle started.

Amara held onto his jacket as they disappeared into the rain.

And somewhere along that quiet road, a love story began.

A love story her father would spend years trying to destroy.