If you guys are reading my book and are here, may I know through the comments what you think so far? :') I feel like no one's reading my book and I think I'm not doing a great job. :'(
The house was quiet when we returned. Ethan had gone home for the night, and Mark had disappeared somewhere to rest. Joaquin and I said nothing to each other as we entered the bachelor’s pad, just the subtle sound of our footsteps filling the silence.I headed to my room, removed the dress, and changed into a pair of cotton shorts and an old hoodie. Comfort over couture.But sleep didn’t come.Instead, I grabbed my laptop, the one I used for editing manuscripts, and quietly made my way to the study. The space was dimly lit, peaceful, and for once, entirely mine. I curled up on the chair with a mug of tea, opened Joaquin's latest manuscript draft, and began scrolling through it."Too wordy," I muttered under my breath, highlighting a few paragraphs. "Run-on sentence. Better transition needed here."It was easier to focus on work than to dwell on... everything else. On how he held my hand. On how he said I was the only one he wanted. On how I wasn’t sure if any of it was real.After an
As dinner ended and the final glass of wine was poured, I could feel the weight of the evening settling into my shoulders. The tension. The performance. The careful words. I was exhausted—but I kept my head held high, even as we stood in the grand foyer saying our goodbyes.Mr. Joseph Bryan Greyson stood by the door, flanked by his secretary and butler, the very image of power and pride. His eyes flicked toward me one last time, and just when I thought he might actually say something decent, he proved me wrong.“You’ll forgive me, Joaquin,” he said with a sigh, “but I still believe Clarisse is the only woman truly worthy of your name. All this”—he gestured between us—“I’ll consider it a phase. When you’re ready for something real, I’ll begin the introductions.”My fingers twitched at my side.Joaquin stiffened beside me, the polite mask slipping from his face. “No,” he said sharply, without hesitation. “I’m not interested in anyone else.”His words cut through the air like a clean bla
The dinner table looked like it had been pulled straight out of a palace catalog.Lobster thermidor drizzled with thick, creamy sauce sat in golden dishes, followed by an arrangement of foie gras, caviar-topped hors d'oeuvres, and delicately carved duck breast in plum reduction.Wine glasses shimmered in the glow of the massive chandelier overhead. Everything screamed extravagance, from the imported china to the absurdly shiny silverware I was slightly scared to touch.It was my first time seeing food like this in person, much less being expected to eat it. I took a bite of the duck first, and I swear I saw stars. It was too good. Unfairly good. But even with food like this in front of me, I couldn’t relax.Because across the table, Joseph Bryan Greyson—the infamous patriarch himself—was watching me.No, studying me.He hadn’t said much during the first few minutes, but his silence was more unsettling than anything. Joaquin sat to my left, politely eating, cool as ever. Meanwhile, I c
Ethan drove in silence.The city lights flickered past the windows, muted behind the tinted glass. The air inside the car felt heavier than usual—dense with everything that hadn’t been said since that night.I sat by the window in the backseat, my legs crossed, the silky slit of my burgundy dress riding high on my thigh. I knew exactly what I was doing. And I could feel Joaquin noticing.He sat beside me, hands clasped in his lap… until I caught him stealing a glance.He cleared his throat—sharp and sudden, as if trying to shake off a thought.I turned to him slowly. “You okay?”“Yeah,” he said, eyes lingering for a second too long before he looked out the opposite window. “Fine.”I didn’t believe him for a second.He shifted in his seat and then reached out for my hand.I blinked as his fingers wrapped around mine, lacing them together tightly, deliberately.A show. A couple in love. That’s what we were here to do, right?I stared at our hands blankly. I said nothing.He turned his he
Two days had passed since that night—the night he kissed me, touched me, and then walked away like I was a mistake.Since then, Joaquin and I had slipped into a silent routine, the kind that only cracked open when convenience demanded it.We both worked from home, communicating only when absolutely necessary—when discussing the status of manuscripts or coordinating meetings.Nothing personal. Nothing close.The warmth from before had all but vanished, like a curtain drawn over the sun.It was late in the afternoon when we were seated across each other in his study. Papers scattered between us, a laptop open to a shared document as we read through a final chapter submission from one of our authors. We gave notes. We revised. We edited.Just like normal.“I just flagged a pacing issue in chapter fifteen,” Joaquin said, voice neutral.I nodded, eyes still glued to the screen. “Got it. I’ll adjust the timeline slightly to make the transition smoother.”“Thanks,” he said. “And—right, before
I changed into my usual sleeping clothes—a plain tank top and soft pajama shorts—and let out a long sigh as I stared at my reflection in the mirror.My cheeks were still flushed from earlier, my lips slightly swollen. I shook my head and groaned quietly, trying to shake off the heat that still lingered on my skin."Ugh," I muttered to myself. "Why did he stop?"I didn’t even know what we were doing—what this was. But it felt real… until he walked away like I was a mistake.Feeling restless, I padded out of the room and headed down to the kitchen. The house was quiet. Jessy and Ethan had left earlier, and Joaquin had already retreated to his room. Probably to nurse both his stab wound and his guilt.I opened the pantry and grabbed a bag of chips, then pulled out a soda from the fridge. I perched on a stool by the island and started munching in silence. Each crunchy bite was supposed to distract me, but nothing could shut up the whirlwind in my head.The soft sound of footsteps pulled me