Chapter Three

Fiona:

"I didn't know for sure, my love. But I always feared this day would come." My father's voice was gentle, but the weight of his unspoken ‘I told you so’ hung between us. He had warned me, had begged me not to marry Dustin. "He only wants your name, your money," he'd said. But I hadn't listened. I'd been too blinded by love, or what I'd thought was love, and not just that, I had hid who I am from the rest of the world, and even Dustin. Nobody knows I'm the heiress to the Velmera Group respected by all.

The irony wasn't lost on me. Here I was, the heiress who'd rebelled against arranged marriages and society expectations, only to fall for the very trap my father had predicted. Three years of marriage, and I'd finally seen Dustin for what he truly was—a calculating opportunist who'd played the part of devoted husband while cheating on me with my best friend.

"Thanks, Daddy," I said, my voice tight. "Just help me with what I asked for." I ended the call before he could say more. I didn't need sympathy. I needed action. Revenge.

I flagged down a taxi and slid into the backseat, my jaw clenched. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Ma'am, we'll have to take a different route. They're fixing the road up ahead."

I narrowed my eyes on him. "No, we won't. I drove through there yesterday. It's fine." These drivers always tried to stretch the ride for extra cash.

He hesitated, then muttered a reluctant, "Okay." But the flicker of annoyance on his face was unmistakable.

"Good. Let him be pissed. Right now, I am in no mood for games." My phone buzzed, pulling me from my thoughts. A text from Dad lit up the screen: "The documents are ready, I've sent it to your email."

A rush of grim satisfaction tightened my chest. This was the advantage of power, of having a father who could move mountains with a single call. And yet, the bitterness surged back, sharp as a blade, because despite everything, the name, the money, the influence, I still let myself fall for a man who'd chosen nothing over me. And now? Now, he'd pay for it.

My blood still thrummed with leftover fury, hot and restless beneath my skin when I heard laughter on the street. I looked up to see where that came from when I saw them, a teenage couple, tangled in each other, her fingers gripping his jacket as he kissed her like she was the only thing that mattered. The way her body arched into his, the hunger in their touch—God, it sent a bolt of heat straight through me.

My breath hitched. Because suddenly, all I could think about was him, the stranger from last night. The way his hands had scorched my skin, his mouth claiming mine with a desperation that still had my pulse racing. The memory of his low growl in my ear, the way he'd pinned me beneath him, made a shiver race down my spine.

"Damn it. I shouldn't be thinking about him. Shouldn't be remembering the way his body moved against mine, rough and demanding, like he knew exactly what I needed before I did." I thought, but the ache between my thighs told me otherwise.

"Fuck! This is getting beyond control." I mumbled under my breath when I heard a loud bang in the front of the taxi. The man had hit something.

"What's happening?" I quickly asked, hoping it wasn't someone that he hit or any damage done that's beyond control, but I looked to my front and saw a Rolls Royce car. He had hit the car, and I could see someone step out of the luxurious car.

"His face looked quite familiar," I thought, but I pushed that behind me and stepped out trying to settle with this man before any drama happened. The taxi driver was just in his car, timid and unable to do anything.

"Excuse me," I said to the man who was already approaching with a very condescending look ready to fight. But immediately his eyes landed on me, there was a look of surprise on his face. I didn't pay too much attention to it, I wanted this sorted as soon as possible so that I can get to Dustin and slam the divorce papers at him.

"How much do I need to pay to fix your car?” I asked him immediately, but he was more surprised and stunned at my words.

"Hello," I raised a hand, about to snap my fingers in front of his face, when another voice cut through the tension, deep and rough.

"What's going on?" The voice came again and my stomach twisted. I knew that voice.

Slowly, I turned. And there he was. The man from last night. The man I slept with. The one whose name I never asked. The one I'd tossed cash at before fleeing like a coward.

His lips curved into a smirk. "Oh, there you are."

My jaw clenched. "Yes, here I am. I guess L.A. is a small city."

His gaze raked over me, slow and deliberate, as if he could still see me naked beneath him. "So, how do we fix this dent?"

I crossed my arms. "I'll pay for it. Just name the price." He stepped closer, his breath warm against my ear. "You can pay me… like you did last night."

I shoved him back, my face burning. "You're a jerk."

His laughter was low, infuriating. "You didn't seem to mind last night."

God, I needed to get out of here. I spun toward the taxi, only for the driver to shake his head.

"Sorry, I'm not driving anymore. The car's damaged." My blood boiled. "You're kidding me." But he was already climbing back into the taxi, leaving me stranded.

The stranger—my one-night stand—stepped closer, his voice a sinful whisper. "Need a ride?"

I glared at him. "I'd rather walk." His smirk deepened. "Liar."

With no other options, I gritted my teeth. "Fine. Just this once."

As I slid into his car, the memory of last night and this morning rushed back—the way I'd thrown money at him, thinking he was a gigolo.

"Oh God. This is going to be a long ride."