Chapter 2

KISAREL.

The cab stopped at the far end of the airport, where regular passengers weren’t even allowed. Through the tinted glass, I saw the silver body of Mr. Stark’s jet gleaming under the floodlights, his initials, O.S., painted near the tail.

I wiped my face, grabbed the small luggage I’d thrown together after getting home from the betrayal scene, and stepped out.

Since Moon's words about my choice of clothes, I began to doubt myself. I felt... Stupid and inadequate. I’d always thought I was beautiful — Jace said so a thousand times — but maybe I was never enough. Maybe I was the joke everyone else saw, and he just forgot to tell me. For all I know, I might even be the ugliest woman on earth right now.

I tried to take off my glasses – not that they were medicated or anything – but I felt naked without them. So, I left them on. Trying to be who I was not made me feel even more stupid.

The air was cold, but the moment I saw him, heat crept up the back of my neck.

Mr. Ocean Stark.

He stood beside the stairs to his jet, hands in his pockets, suit pressed within an inch of perfection. Even from here, he radiated total control.

He wasn’t the kind of man you looked at twice.

You looked once — because you couldn’t help it — and then you looked away before he caught you staring.

Six foot three of controlled violence in a perfectly tailored suit. Broad shoulders, dark hair brushed back in a way that didn’t dare fall out of place, and those eyes… cold, emotionless, like they could undress you, dissect you, and dismiss you in one motion.

"Good evening, Mr. Stark," I managed.

He didn’t answer right away. He just looked at me, a faint arch in his brow like the sound of my voice had interrupted his thoughts, and he was deciding whether to forgive that or not.

Then his gaze flicked down, slowly assessing me.

Jesus.

I greeted his best friend, who was also his MD. "Mr. Harold."

He managed half a smile before turning back to his phone.

Of course, no one noticed this pathetic little girl trying to hold herself together during the hour-and-a-half flight. No one ever did.

Inside the hotel lobby, I adjusted my blazer and forced my hands to stop trembling as I faced the receptionist.

“Reservation for Mr. Stark, Mr. Harold, and Miss Harry,” I said, forcing steadiness into my voice.

The woman smiled politely, then glanced at the fourth member of our group, Mandy, Harold’s girlfriend. Perfect and glossy as ever.

“Oh, they’re together.” I gestured toward them, pretending confidence I didn’t feel.

God, my eyes were becoming teary again. I just needed a room, a bathtub, and a place to cry without witnesses.

After a moment, the receptionist frowned at the screen.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but there’s no reservation under Miss Harry. Only Mr. Stark and Mr. Harold.”

My pulse jumped. “What?”

Behind me, that low, rich, controlled baritone rolled out.

“Then make one.”

Mr. Stark.

I swallowed hard, staring at the counter. Even his voice had a certain effect on me that I had come to categorize as "fear," even though it doesn't fit that category.

The clerk looked uneasy. “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re fully booked for the night.”

Of course. The National Electorate Conference will be taking place tomorrow. Every powerful name in the country was under this roof tonight..

My stomach dropped. I must have forgotten to complete the reservation while I was busy calling Jace… before everything fell apart.

I didn’t dare turn around. I could feel Mr. Stark’s gaze drilling through my spine. My palms were damp; my mind blank.

“I... I'll find something... Another hotel...”

"Hand us the key cards."

I finally turned around, and the look in his eyes told me one thing clearly: I’d pay for this mistake.

*

Staying in the same room with Mr. Stark didn't even give me the alone time I looked forward to spending in a bathtub. I barely showered properly. My instincts kept flying around:

What if Mr. Stark opens the bathroom door?

What if I see a ghost and run out naked?

What if...

Every stupid possibility raced through my head until my heart started skipping beats.

The idea of sharing a suite with the infamous Ocean Stark made every nerve in my body hum with panic.

Although I cried a little, wiped my face, and did what any heartbroken idiot does at 11 p.m. — googled how to get over betrayal.

The answers were ridiculous.

‘Go out with friends.’  I had none.

‘Do something spontaneous.’  I could barely breathe.

‘Revenge sex.’

I snorted out loud at that one. Revenge sex? With who? Jace was the only man I’d ever let close.

No male friends, no flings, no one. Just me — pathetic, faithful, and now apparently obsolete.

By the time I pulled myself together, Mr. Stark was seated on the couch, surrounded by files and his laptop, a half-empty glass of something dark sitting beside him.

His sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong forearms and the faint outline of veins that matched the precision in his movements. Everything about him was neat and intentional. And I always resisted the urge to admit how illegally handsome he was. I guess I had no right to even admit such a thing. It felt so wrong.

I sat in the armchair beside him, careful not to brush against him. The distance between us was small but heavy, like sitting beside a thunderstorm before it breaks.

My hands wouldn’t stop trembling. My chest still ached from everything I’d tried to bury, and somehow his calm made it worse.

He hadn’t looked at me once since we entered the suite, not even during the flight.

That was the thing about Ocean Stark — he could make you feel completely invisible while reminding you you’re being watched.

We worked in silence. I was sorting out schedules when my phone buzzed beside me. Once. Twice. Then again — Jace’s name flashing on the screen.

I froze, praying my boss hadn’t noticed.

"Turn that off."

His voice. That voice again. It sent a trail of goosebumps running down my arms. Thankfully, I was wearing a big polo shirt, so he wouldn't see it.

I fumbled for the phone, thumbs slipping as I silenced it. I didn’t dare look up, but I could feel his eyes on me now.

There was silence, making it difficult to hide the soft sobs and sniffles that were choking me and threatening to spill.

“If you can’t compartmentalize, you’ll never last.” His chilling voice said, and I paused.

For a second, I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined them. My heart skipped, then tripped over itself.

I looked up slowly.

His eyes — cold, grey, unreadable — met mine.

I swallowed a dry lump as a tear escaped my eye.

“I… I’m sorry?” My voice came out thin, breaking on the last syllable.

He leaned back against the couch, posture unbothered. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, the faintest shadow of muscle visible beneath. His veins shifted under the light as he picked up another file.

“Boyfriend issues?” he asked without looking away.

My cheeks burned. "Yes... Uhm..." I sniffed, wiping my tears off as they fell freely now. "Yes."

He studied me like he was analyzing numbers, not a person.

“Caught him cheating?”

I was tempted to scream and tell him, 'Yes, I caught him cheating with your fiancée!' but, just like Moon said, I could never. I owe her family that much. So, I swallowed and just gave a polite nod.

He didn’t blink. “You’ll live. Pull yourself together and get back to work.”

And that was it. No softness, no sympathy. Just dismissal.

Still… he’d asked. Ocean Stark had actually spoken to me beyond orders. For a man who could end careers with a phone call, even that tiny fragment of attention felt dangerous.

Was that concern or a warning? I couldn’t tell.

My throat itched to keep the next words that threatened to come out of my mouth, but it failed, because I heard my own voice ask the most stupid question ever.

"Do you think I am weak, Mr. Stark?"

He froze mid-page. A faint crease appeared between his brows.

For a heartbeat, the world seemed to stop with him, and my pulse was the only sound I could hear.

“Do you?” he asked, still not looking up.

“Do I what?” My voice wavered.

“Think you’re weak.”

He slowly peeled his gaze from the files, and his chilling eyes rested on me. The movement was so small, but it felt like the whole room leaned toward him. I almost slid into a panic attack.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “Maybe.”

“What are you trying to prove, Miss Harry?”

“I’m not sure,” I said.

He studied me then like he was trying to decide if I was unstable or simply honest.

“You’re crying over a man who isn’t worth the data it would take to delete his name from your phone,” he said. “That’s not weakness, that’s misallocation of focus.”

I almost laughed. “So what would you recommend, Mr. Stark? Reallocate my focus?”

“Yes.”

His tone was flat and businesslike, as if we were still talking about quarterly losses. But something in his eyes shifted — interest, maybe curiosity. It made my stomach twist.

I ran my tongue over my dry lips, "Mr. Stark...?" I called, but he only answered with his steady eyes on mine, “Do you…” My voice faltered, but I forced it out, “Do you really love my cousin?”

I knew I was playing with fire. Such boldness? I'd never displayed it anywhere near my boss before. And I was terrified he was even entertaining me.

“No.”

Two letters. A brutally honest answer that shocked me.

I blinked. “What?” My whisper cracked. “Why? But I thought…”

His mouth curved in something close to contempt.

He stood to his feet. "You want to know the truth?" He asked flatly, and I nodded, my gaze lifted up to meet his.

"Because my heart only belongs to one woman. I've been searching for her for years now. And when I find her...?" He paused, and some muscle in his cheek twitched, like he was holding back more words.

"What? You'll dump my cousin?" I found myself asking... Not because I care. But maybe I also wanted Moonie to suffer the way she'd made me suffer all these years. And I wanted her suffering to come naturally.

He exhaled through his nose, "Your cousin is strictly business." With that, he made to walk away.

The finality in his tone should have shut me up. Instead, something hot and reckless surged up my throat.

I stood as he turned to go. “Wait.”

He stopped. Slowly, he turned his head and gave me that look that meant, 'the audacity?'

Too late to back down. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt.

"Mr. Stark... I need a favor from you." I stood in front of him now, feeling so small and breakable before him.

“I want…” I swallowed hard, hating the tremor in my throat. “I want to do something that reminds me I’m not weak.”

His brows narrowed like he could read through me.

He didn’t answer. Just watched me. The grey in his eyes looked darker now, colder, like deep water that could drown a person without a ripple.

"Take me tonight. I want to forget all about Jace. Please don't say no."