Chapter 3

Viola

My blood turned out to be as cold as ice.

How did he know it was me hiding under the bed? Did he have some kind of super power?

My brain totally went blank.

"You can come out now," he added, taking one slow step toward the bed.

Nowhere to hide. Game over. Done. Spectacularly, humiliatingly done. Ugh, why can't I be a pangolin? Then I could dig a hole and bolt in instantly.

He knelt down, and our eyes locked. Those blue eyes were full of teasing. Oh god, his face. It was still perfect, even sharper with newfound confidence and swagger, and it made me burn with humiliation.

He held out a hand toward me and said, "What? Planning to spend the night under my bed?"

I took a deep, shaky breath and put my hands on the carpet. I was completely humiliated, but ten years of building myself up wasn't just going to vanish. If I was going down, I was going down swinging.

I pushed his hand away and crawled out from under the bed. I hoped playing it cool could rescue the dignity I had left.

I flipped my hair over my shoulder, lifted my chin, and made myself look as cold as I could be.

Standing right in front of him, I finally locked eyes with Bryce.

For a second, time completely stopped.

Bryce stood right before me, wrapped only in a towel, blazing bright as a thousand suns, painfully perfect.

This natural masterpiece stood mere inches away from me.

He'd grown even more handsome. I hadn't seen him in person all these years, only photos and clips from media coverage. In the flesh, he was infinitely more captivating than anything captured on camera.

His broad shoulders and chest were fully exposed to me. Those V-lines trailed down his body, disappearing beneath the towel tied around his hips. His hair was damp, water droplets dripping from it. Under the hotel's bright lights, the beads of water glistened on his skin, as if he himself was glowing.

There was a scar on his collarbone. I remembered this scar—from a karting crash during his childhood training. Far from marring his body, the mark was like the broken arms of the Venus de Milo, making him even more one-of-a-kind.

God, fresh out of the shower, he looked like a fallen angel who had just stepped out of a tempest. He was stunning enough to steal my breath.

I thought, the only reason this arrogant, sharp-tongued playboy hasn't gotten himself beaten to a pulp is this flawless appearance.

The world is shallow like that, so easily fooled by beauties.

I had to admit I was just as shallow. When I wasn't face-to-face with him, hating him came effortlessly. But standing here before him, all I felt was raw physical attraction.

Bryce's gaze slowly dragged over me. He took his time, his eyes dropping from my flushed face, trailing over my outfit, lingering for a second on the high heels I wore, before rising back up to meet my eyes.

A smirk tugged at his lips.

"Well, I have to admit, Cream Puff… I'm incredibly glad to see you are slender enough to actually fit under the bed. Or extracting you out would be a nightmare for me."

He hadn't changed one single bit. Why did I ever hold the hope he'd be even a little bit nicer?

He was still the same arrogant and condescending jerk who thought the world revolved around his axis. Sure, he had become more charming. Sure, he had gone on to conquer the globe, securing five Formula One World Championships, retiring at the peak of his career to become a living legend. The entire world worshipped the ground he walked on. Men wanted to be him. Women threw themselves at his feet.

But stripped of his appearance, the fame and the wealth, he was still just Bryce. The boy who had laughed at me. The playboy who had a long list of lovers.

"And I see your ego has only inflated with your bank account. Do you need to buy two airplane seats whenever you fly? One for your body, and one for your overblown ego?" I fired back.

Bryce let out a laugh, a sound that was entirely too appealing. He leaned back and crossed his muscular arms over his bare chest.

No peeking at his naked body. Nope. Not allowed. Bad eyes.

"You've developed a bite, Viola. I like it. By the way, you look perfect in this suit than in a pink dress." He said.

I flinched. Pink dress. He remembered the dress. Of course he did. He probably kept the memory stored in a file labeled hilarious moments. Why does he have to remember every embarrassing thing about teenage me? That's so unfair.

"What I wear is none of your business!" I snapped, taking a defensive step back.

"By the way, I wasn't hiding under your bed because I wanted to be there. I was at the broadcasting gala downstairs. I had too many glasses of champagne. I got off on the wrong floor, and your door was ajar."

"My door was ajar." he repeated slowly, tasting the words. He took a predatory step toward me.

"Yes. I walked in, realized it wasn't my room, and then I heard you coming. I panicked. And then I hid under the bed. End of story."I lifted my chin.

"You panicked." he mused, taking another step.

The scent of Bryce wrapped around me. Ugh, even his smell is unfairly good.

Focus, Viola!

"So, the fearless television host, the woman I watched tear apart the Ferrari team principal on live TV last month, gets a little startled and decides her best tactical move is to dive under the bed of a naked man?" He looked at me in a deliberately confused look.

He was so mean!

"I didn't know you were naked when I went under there! And you weren't naked when you walked in! You… you undressed in front of me!" I shouted at him.

"Ah." The smirk disappeared, transforming into a wicked grin. "So you were watching."

"I was trapped! What was I supposed to do? Cough and ask you to hand me a towel to cover my eyes?" I cried out, my hands balling into fists.

"You could have said hello." He took another step.

I took a step back.

"I have nothing to say to you."

"Nothing?" Another step forward.

My body completely ignored my brain. My legs hit the edge of the bed and I fell on the bed. Bryce reached out and placed both of his large hands on the mattress, one on either side of my hips, pinning me against the bed.

I was trapped. Again. No no no, not again!

He leaned down, his face hovering mere inches from mine. His gaze dropped to my mouth, his eyes darkening, the teasing glint replaced by something much heavier, much more dangerous.

"You've changed, Cream Puff. You're… very different."he murmured.

"Don't call me that."

"Why not?" He leaned in closer. The tip of his nose almost brushed mine. I could feel the warmth of his breath against my lips.

"It used to make you blush."

His girlfriend Anne was coming soon. His admire Vivian was waiting down the hall. And this lying, cheating, shameless playboy still had time to flirt with me? The girl he'd humiliated?

Was I just another name on his list? Another stop on tonight's tour?

How could he do this without any guilt?

I wanted to push him away. I wanted to slap that beautiful but arrogant face.

"I hate you." I shouted.

"I know." His gaze dropping to my lips again. He leaned in, closing the final inch of space between us. His eyelashes fluttered shut.

When he was about to kiss me, someone knocked on the door.

Bryce froze. He let out a low frustrated sigh.

"Bryce?" A voice called from the hallway. "It's Anne. Open up."

Oh, his girlfriend was right out of the door. She would catch Bryce was cheating on her.

What an asshole. A playboy, a man you could never trust, a total scumbag.

All I needed to do is to escape now. I shoved against his chest with all my might.

Taken by surprise, Bryce stumbled backward.

I scrambled sideways, gasping for air as if I had been underwater for the last ten minutes.

"I hated you! You're such a jerk!" I shouted, my voice trembling, and I rushed out of the room.