Chapter 3

I waited patiently as another car rolled over the nails scattered across the road. Almost instantly, the car came to a screeching halt.

"Another customer,” I murmured and plastered a concerned look across my face before rushing towards the car. My expression was so on point, you couldn’t have guessed in a million years that I had actually set it up.

A man with a rotund belly climbed out to examine the tire. A slew of curses drifted past his lips upon noticing the damage.

“What happened, sir? Is everything alright?” I asked, faking concern. The man looked up at me.

“My car’s tire punctured,” he shared.

“Ohh,” I responded as if sorry and then quickly added, “I think I saw a gas station around the corner. They should be able to fix it.” I pointed in the direction. He nodded and thanked me. I watched as he drove off in the same direction.

I did feel guilty for inconveniencing people like this, but I had no choice. I was homeless, and I needed money to survive. I had bagged a waiting job in a diner but was fired the same day for mixing up orders. And it’s not that I didn’t try landing a white-collar job. I did. But my reputation preceded me everywhere I went. He had me blacklisted from every company. 

Marrying Elliot Thompson was the biggest mistake of my life. Almost a month had passed, but the images of him and Kelly naked together in our marital bed still haunted me.

I wiped my tears. I have cried a lot in the last one month.

My mouth curved into a bitter smile as I recalled my extent of desperation for his attention. I was even willing to go under the knife just to make myself more likeable to him. So what if he had the face of a goat and dick of a dry raisin? I wanted our marriage to work. Little did I know, he was too busy fucking my best friend to give me attention.

He didn’t only cheat on me, he also destroyed my reputation. My name is Azalea, but I’ve been called “whore” more times than I’ve been called by my name.

We had divorced three weeks ago.

“Five vehicles today. You’re on a roll,” the mechanic complimented, pulling me out of my thoughts.

With a small smile, I took the money from him and left.

I wasn’t planning to drink today. I had decided I would save money until I had enough to rent a house or maybe a pistol.

On my merry way I went, when my phone beeped, announcing a message’s arrival. A hissing snake flashed on screen. It was Kelly. I clicked on it, and a photo opened up. In the photo, Elliot was on his knees, proposing to Kelly. He was putting a ring on her finger. A crushing weight settled over my chest. 

There was another picture, showcasing the ring. A large oval diamond sat atop the platinum band.

3 million. He makes sure I get whatever I want.

The message from Kelly read.

I couldn’t hold back tears this time. I just couldn’t. Here, I was getting by on scraps, and those who destroyed me were living their best lives.

I walked into the fancy bar and made my way straight to the counter. Whatever it took to numb the pain festering in my heart. Whatever it took to get over Elliot fucking Thompson.

I told the bartender to make me a strong drink. He eyed me in suspicion. With a roll of my eyes, I set a small pile of cash down on the table. His countenance brightened like a bulb, and he immediately got to the task.

I drank. I drank a lot, but it still hurt. I was never wanted, not by my parents, not by my husband. And it sucked. Why was I even born? What’s the point of my existence?

The bartender refused to get me another drink as I had run out of money. I told him I would pay later, but he ignored me. Flipping him off, I got down from the stool.

A wave of dizziness hit me as soon as I planted my feet on the floor. Dismissing it, I set out on my hunt for the bathroom. I had to pee. I think I even asked some people for directions, but they didn’t understand me. Never mind, I kept going.

As I climbed the stairs, the club noise began to dim. I soon found myself staggering down a quiet, dim-lit corridor. There were doors on either side of it. I stopped at the last one. Without thinking, I pushed the door, and it opened. It was a room. Walking in, I made a beeline to the bathroom.

After relieving myself, I started towards the door. But then my gaze caught the bed. Having been sleeping on the street for a month, I had forgotten how it feels to lie in a bed. And this one looked temptingly soft. Without thinking, I walked over and lied down on it. I’ll indulge for a minute, and then I’ll be on my way.

......

I woke up to darkness. Confused, I looked around and saw the table clock reading 1 a.m.

“What the hell,” I murmured, realizing I had overslept.

I moved to get out of bed when a voice from the darkness echoed. “Leaving so soon?”

I froze. Someone was in the room.

A moment later, a silhouette emerged from the darkness. Tall, huge, and imposing. As he came closer, the lamp’s faint glow caught his eyes. Steel grey, like the sharp edge of a blade. The light fell across his face next.

“Damon Kensington,” I whispered, totally stunned.

His mouth curved into a wicked smirk before he remarked smoothly, "So now my little brother is sending his dear wife to seduce me. Interesting.”

“I am not his wife,” I blurted out, not wanting any association with that cheater.

“Is that so?” he asked, amused.

The air pulsated with his intoxicating cologne, and it was doing funny things to me.

“I..I’ll leave,” I declared and shot out of the bed. My head spun without warning as I stood up, sending me to the floor. But before I could fall, a strong arm cradled me in time.

My alarmed eyes snapped to his.

“Easy there,” he murmured, his gaze then drifting to my mouth. His eyes smoldered with a heated intensity as he added in almost a whisper, “I can't let you slip again, little one.”