Chapter 2

Her heart pounded in her chest, the echo of despair whispering that escape from Lazare was impossible. But then, a miracle—the shrill ring of Lazare’s phone pierced the tense silence. As his attention shifted, his hand diving into his pocket to get his phone, she seized the moment. Each step she took was a relief, putting distance between them. The air filled her lungs, sweet and liberating, a stark contrast to the stifling fear that had gripped her moments ago.

“Yeah? I'll return shortly,” Lazare’s voice echoed into the garden, his gaze locked onto her, unyielding. 

The cigarette hanging loosely from his lips found its end on the ground, extinguished under the weight of his boot. It did not take long enough and the conversation concluded, but the intensity in his eyes remained as he slid his phone back to his pocket.

Her words danced in the air, a playful taunt, “Your fiancée seemed to miss you already.”

A smirk played on Lazare’s lips, his left hand casually disappearing into his pocket. “Green-eyed monster got your tongue?”

Her reply dripped with sarcasm, “Utterly.”

His chuckle echoed in the silence, a knowing sound. “I never pegged you as the kind to stalk her ex-husband, to the point of gatecrashing his engagement soiree for a fleeting sight of him. I must say, I’m indeed a lucky guy.”

She swallowed hard before her steps, measured and deliberate, carried her towards him. As she gets close to him her fingers find his tie, tracing the familiar fabric, a ritual from when they were bound by marriage. A bubble of laughter threatened to escape as she watched his Adam’s apple bob nervously. 

The tables had turned, and the game was now hers to play. 

With a firm grasp on his necktie, she boosted herself onto the balls of her feet, her breath dancing on his ear as she murmured, “Sorry to burst your bubble but I’m not here for you.”

His calloused hand embarked on a journey, finding its destination on the curve of her hip, squeezing it gently. 

“Would it be a sin for me to say I should’ve stayed?” he questioned; completely ignoring her statement, his voice laced with a hint of longing.

A wave of revulsion swept over Vlada in an instant. Her body instinctively recoiled, but before she could put any substantial distance between them, his grip around her waist tightened, anchoring her in place.

Lazare knew how to play this game too well. Her mission isn’t to rekindle a lost love but rather to orchestrate his undoing. The surprising part? The frequency with which she needs to echo this mantra to herself, far more often than she ever anticipated.

His voice, a playful whisper, floated through the air. “Running away, Vlada?”

Her words hung heavy between them, “You’re on the brink of marriage.”

A chuckle slipped from his lips. He lifted his left hand, his ring finger bare and gleaming in the light. His words, a defiant challenge, “For as long as this right here doesn’t have a gold band, I can do whatever the f-ck I want, and I want you.”

Her gaze fixated on his eyes, a captivating shade of deep honey, brimming with an undeniable longing. Leaning in, she wasted no time, her lips meeting his in a fervent embrace. In response, he eagerly parted his lips, inviting her in, their tongues entwining with an intoxicating rhythm. The taste of rum lingered on his tongue, igniting a comforting warmth that coursed through her entire being.

“I missed you,” she said as her heart ached with a longing she couldn’t put into words, a feeling intensified by the sweet burn of rum on her tongue. The gritty scent of the ashtray on his breath, usually a turn-off, now served as a poignant reminder of their shared past. It was like a silent confession, a testament to their separation.

She yearned for more time, just another minute. She wasn’t ready to let go, not yet. The moment was fleeting, and she wanted to hold onto it, to stretch it out for as long as she could.

“Lazare, are you here?!” 

With a gentle but firm push, Lazare created a small distance between them. “Stop, we need to hide,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

The voice belonged to his fiancée. She hastily wiped her lips with the back of her hand, the taste of Lazare still lingering. But before she could regain her composure, Lazare had seized her wrist, leading her away.

She had no idea where he had brought her. All she knew was that they were now in a room, their hands eagerly tracing the contours of each other’s bodies; lost in their own world.

“Quit gawking at me like a weirdo.” Vlada pointed out while she's rebuttoning her shirt when she saw how intensely Lazare was staring at her, his shirt undone and his lips still red.

He simply chuckled without responding, then approached the table where she was seated and lit a cigarette, offering it to her, which she eagerly took after grooming herself to her satisfaction.

“You should head back. I'm sure they're all going nuts waiting for you,” she said, blowing out a puff of smoke from the cigarette.

He positioned himself behind her, and his fingers followed the contour of her shoulder blade, a silent response to her. 

Noticing his hesitation, she gently caught his hand on her shoulder, tapping it as if to urge him. “C’mon, you need to go back.”

“What if I don’t want to?” he questioned, his voice laced with uncertainty right behind her ear. He spoke so close to her that she started to feel the warmth of his breath. 

Inhaling deeply, she flicked the cigarette to the ground and gracefully slid off the table, purposely crushing it beneath her shoe. “Your choice.”

He pursued her, swiftly positioning himself in front of her and pulling her close, leading to a passionate kiss between their lips. She gently pushed him away, creating a slight gap between them.

“Just go,” she whispered, her voice tinged with a mix of longing and resignation.

He sighed as he started to put the buttons on his shirt. “When will I see you again?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows?”

“I'll know for sure. See ya around.” He gave her brief kisses on the lips as he grabbed her neck before drawing back.

As he exited the room, she vigorously wiped her lips, a desperate attempt to erase the evidence of her actions. Disgust washed over her, consuming her thoughts. Without hesitation, she grabbed her phone and dialed Michael's number, a close friend who had connections in the world of entertainment news.

“Do it now,” she commanded firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. With a decisive click, she ended the call and made her way out of the room.

She ventured to find the ceremony, her eyes scanning the crowd. Lazare and his fiancée stood before the gathering, preparing for a kiss. As their lips met, there was a trace of the charming smile he had worn moments ago.

Just minutes ago, they had been engaged in a sin committed in secret. And now, he stood before his fiancée, his demeanor seemingly innocent, as if he hadn’t done anything wrong. It was an act of deception, a glimpse into his true nature.

“You’re going to need me to clear your f-cking name. And you’re going to regret that you even met me,” she whispered to herself, her gaze fixed on Lazare from a distance.