Chapter 1 My Husband's Engagement Party

Natalie's POV 

I felt uneasy standing among the crowd, watching with my very eyes the love of my life getting engaged to another woman. Twining his fingers in her hair, kissing slowly, deeply, and possessively.

My chest tightened, and my stomach churned.

The camera flashes and clicks, along with the loud applause, filled the massive yard of the Mirren Mansion, overflowing with celebration of the union of the two most powerful tycoon families in the USA.

Magazines and celebrity social media pages described it as [The Engagement Of The Year.]

Amidst this ocean of polished faces, fake smiles, and glittering gowns, I stood still, watching people shower praise on Rafael and Debbie.

My heart refused to beat normally.

“A toast to the newlyweds,” a male voice cheered, followed by the clinking of the crystal glasses.

The party was perfect. I made sure of it.

The food, the drinks, the decorations, and even the white flowers in the bride’s bouquet had my touch.

Everybody was enjoying the glamorous atmosphere.

Everyone except me.

“Mr. Merrin, is this a foundation for a business merger, or is there a love story behind the scenes?” a reporter asked.

Debbie’s cheeks blushed as she smiled to the camera, cupping Rafael’s face, brushing her lips on his, and confidently replied instead of him, “Aren’t our feelings obvious?”

Radael wrapped his arm around her waist and smiled. “Debbie is the ideal woman for me. She covered all my needs for a future wife.”

Then he kissed her cheek and added, “No woman on earth can be compared to her.”

My eyes met Debbie’s for a split second, her lips rose in triumph. Or maybe it was just my imagination.

My fingers trembled around the stem of my champagne glass. The corners of my eyes stung, my heart burned, pounding violently against my ribs.

Yet I stood there calmly, sipping my drink.

No one could guess the storm raging inside me.

I bit down hard on my lip until I tasted blood, forcing myself to keep watching them laugh and kiss.

Maybe if I watched long enough, if I allowed my heart to confront this reality, I could let go. Maybe my stupid, stubborn heart would give up on him.

I had always dreamed of being the one in his arms and kissing him—of feeling his strength around me, of being the reason for that look in his eyes.

Then his rough, masculine, deep voice cut through the chatter. The same voice that had made my pulse race a thousand times before.

“Where’s Natalie?” he asked, his gaze sweeping the crowd. “Why isn’t she here?”

That poor Natalie was me.

For a moment, I imagined him scanning desperately, as if looking for me would be the only thing keeping him grounded. But Debbie leaned in, whispered something that made him laugh, and he let the moment pass.

How pathetic!

I slipped behind the large oak tree, the rough bark digging into my back, and downed the rest of my champagne in one go.

My heartbeat thundered in my ears, wild and irregular.

I couldn’t let him see me like this.

If he did, if he saw the real messy, aching me, he would know what I hid well over the years.

I just couldn't take that risk. 

  

I closed my eyes, taking a shaky breath. Pretending happiness was exhausting, emotionally grueling.

After all, this was my husband’s engagement party. Strange, right?

No one here knew the truth. No one would ever know.

We had hidden that very well over the past year. Not even the press that adored every move he made suspected anything.

I hoped I could make him notice me. Move something in his heart.

That was why I entered that dirty game.

But I regret this daredevil decision now. 

Why would he notice an orphan girl with no social background when he had Debbie? The heir to the Nefson Group and the perfect match for him?

I pressed my palm to my chest, feeling the frantic thrum of my pulse. I loved Rafael, hopelessly, endlessly, one-sidedly like forever.

He treated me like his little sister, but I never considered him as a brother. 

He was my hero. 

My savior.  

My idol. 

But not a brother. Never.

I sighed and set the empty glass aside, lifted the bottle, and took another long swallow. My vision blurred as tears threatened to spill.

I wanted him, physically and emotionally.

‘I just want to hug him… to kiss him,’ I thought.

It hurt. Even though I wished him happiness, seeing him touch another woman like that tore something open inside me that I couldn’t mend.

Every night I daydream about him. Every night, I hugged my pillow and fantasised about him. 

Hearing that deep, commanding voice whispering filthy words in my ear.

I even stole some of his T-shirts, his jackets, anything that smelled like him, to hold close at night.

I closed my eyes, letting my control slip for just a moment. My cold mask cracked for one second.

What if he fucked me once? Just once. Maybe then the spark would vanish. The crush would fade.

I believed this was the only way I could get rid of him.

"I want to have sex with him… Ra…" The words escaped before I could stop them. 

Out loud. Raw and desperate.

“Oh…” My lips parted in shook involuntarily, the sound barely audible even to me.

Shit.

I got myself drunk.

My breath caught. This was embarrassing.

I froze, panic flooding my veins, as I slowly turned…. My heart was racing, afraid if someone heard my deep, dark thoughts of him.

Once I turned, there he was. Rafael. Standing in front of me, looking down at me with those piercing blue eyes that had haunted my dreams for years.