LOGINNATHANIELI watch her slowly pull her hand into her lap, and I curse myself for letting the mask slip, for letting her see exactly how desperate I am for her touch.She clears her throat, her eyes darting back to the safety of the laptop screen. "So... how do we proceed from here? Will you hand over the contacts and let me track them down, or...""No." I shake my head, desperately forcing my brain back into business mode. "I don't think cold-calling is the strategic play here. Blackwell Enterprise is celebrating its sixty-fifth anniversary next weekend. The gala will be held at the estate. Every single contact on that list will be in attendance."I pause, choosing my next words with surgical precision. I cannot sound desperate. I cannot demand she be there."I think it would be a much stronger launch if you met them face-to-face in a social setting," I offer quietly.Betty shifts uncomfortably in her chair, her shoulders going rigid. She grabs her iced tea, taking a long, slow drag fr
NATHANIELAs promised, I have spent the last three weeks helping Betty with her rebrand. We’ve been meeting exclusively in public places— restaurants, hotel lobbies, or crowded cafés—as if she is terrified to be alone with me.There was a time that would have driven me insane, but now? Every single second I get to sit across from her feels like oxygen. And if I have to spend the rest of my life drinking coffee in hotel lobbies just to be near her, I will gladly do it.The air between us has been constantly vibrating with an unspoken, agonizing tension. And it has been that way since she found out Rhys’s club opening.Every now and then, I catch her giving me that heavy, searching look, like she is standing on the edge of a cliff, trying to figure out if she wants to jump. But the second I meet her eyes, that look disappears, and she looks away.I know better than to push her, especially now with Martha’s voice playing on a constant, bruising loop in my head: Just be her friend. Don't
BETTYI stare down through the sprawling glass windows at the chaotic city streets below, my fingernails nervously picking at the edge of my laptop. I debate whether I should really be handing him my grievances. But then I remember the promise I made to myself—the conscious choice to stop hiding and meet him halfway.I drag a breath into my lungs and force myself to meet his intense, waiting gaze."I've been having a hard time finding clients," I admit, my voice quieter than the hum of the restaurant. "All the prospects I had lined up are completely icing me out. I've reached out multiple times, and nothing. It all started after the Fausto ordeal. I can't help but wonder if it has something to do with that."Nathaniel’s jaw locks, the muscle feathering beneath his skin as a thick blue vein rises at his temple. He leans back against the woven rattan chair, his expression darkening."It definitely has everything to do with the Fausto ordeal," he says, his voice flat. "You were designing
BETTYThe sharp, late-afternoon wind whips across the busy sidewalk, violently tearing at the edges of my black leather half-coat. I hike Grace’s heavy overnight duffel bag higher up my shoulder, my fingers tightening in a death grip around the thick canvas strap. Beside me, Grace is waving and smiling at strangers, entirely oblivious to the absolute warzone currently raging inside my head.I should talk to her about the dangers of being too friendly with strangers. Or have her father do it. Who I am sure would do a better job instilling that fear in her than I would.Speaking of her father, it has been two weeks since the fever almost took me out. Two weeks since I found Nathaniel washing dishes in my tiny kitchen, having abandoned his empire just to nurse me back to health.After that unforgettable night, Lucy cornered me and subjected me to countless, agonizingly blunt conversations, ruthlessly stripping away my defensive excuses one by one until I was backed into a corner.I final
NATHANIELThe harsh, artificial glow of my phone screen burns in the dim light of my home office.My thumb hovers over the glass, suspended a fraction of an inch above the keyboard, and I stare at the blinking cursor.The urge to type a thousand words, to plead to see her, to drive straight to her apartment and plant myself outside her door, claws violently at the inside of my chest. And it has been like this since I left her apartment two weeks ago.That dinner had gone better than I ever anticipated. It started quietly, the three of us sitting in suffocating silence for the first ten minutes, until Lucy finally grew tired of the tension and ruthlessly dragged us down memory lane.I learned more about Betty in those thirty minutes than I had in the seven years I thought I knew her.Lucy spun stories of college parties and bar fights, painting a picture of a wild, fiercely loyal girl I had never met. But layered beneath the chaos was the quiet, brutal reality of her responsibility. Be
BETTYA low, gravelly murmur drifts through the dark, and my eyelids flutter.For a disoriented second, my exhausted brain tries to convince me I am still trapped in a fever dream. The dream where Nathaniel was here. Sitting on the very edge of this couch, the scent of his expensive cologne wrapping around me as he held a spoon to my lips.I push the thought away and take in a deep breath. It’s then I realize the air is different. The sickly-sweet smell of dying roses is gone, and it’s been replaced by a crisp night breeze that washes over my damp skin, filling my lungs with clean oxygen.I blink my eyes fully open and also can’t help but realize the blinding pressure that was crushing my skull has receded to a dull, manageable ache.My body feels too light as well. Free. When I look down, the heavy, fleece robe is gone, together with the hoodie. I am stripped down to nothing but a thin, worn-out cotton t-shirt, my sweatpants, and my socks.I swing my legs off the edge of the couch, m
BETTYMy fingers wrap around the coffee cup, trying to siphon warmth from it, but the chill still clings to my skin.The cold this morning feels sharper, like the world itself is bracing for something.I am sitting by the window of a small coffee shop downtown, the scent of roasted beans and vanill
BETTYI can’t bring myself to go back home yet, probably because I’m still riding the strange high from the meeting I just had with Amanda.There is something else I need to do first, something I’ve been avoiding for far too long, and because for the first time in a long while I feel like I’m done
Hi my beautiful readers 🤍 I know I’ve been quiet for the last two days, and I wanted to thank you for your patience and kindness. The holidays asked me to slow down for a moment, but I never stopped thinking about this story or about you. I promise to resume posting two chapters a day starting
BETTYI stare at the black gown draped over my body, and I nod. It’s simple and elegant. The kind of dress that whispers rather than shouts.I chose it because I don’t want to stand out tonight, mainly because Rhys seems to command every room he walks into.My stomach twists with nerves, but undern







