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54. Not Made For This.
Last Updated:
2025-09-02 09:59:13
Latest chapter
The Stranger My Heart Belonged To 58. Still Trying Not To Fall.
SADIE’S POVThe music throbbed like a pulse through the humid night air, drowning out most attempts at conversation. Somewhere behind us, someone screamed—joyful, drunk—and the sound of splashing water followed, laughter erupting like fireworks.The hotel’s pool lounge and beach bar was packed with young, beautiful people, all in varying states of intoxication and undress. Neon lights flickered across the water, bouncing off half-empty champagne flutes and bronzed skin.Damon sat across from me at one of the only unoccupied tables. We were surrounded by half-naked strangers, loud beats, and the unmistakable buzz of a party none of us were invited to.Correction—he probably was. And judging by the way a few people kept glancing at him, someone had already noticed the infamous Damon Prince had made an appearance.But he didn’t seem to care. He didn’t even seem to see them.His posture was rigid. His eyes distant. His jaw tense, like he’d rather be anywhere else. And still—he’d brought u
The Stranger My Heart Belonged To 57. Peace, Interrupted.
SADIE’S POVI told myself not to look at him again.But I did.It was impossible not to. Damon was barefoot, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hair a little wind-tossed as he kicked the ball back and forth with the kids like he belonged in the sunlight.Like this wasn’t a pretend honeymoon. Like he wasn’t the same man who’d ruined me with a single night and then stood across the room the next morning like nothing had happened.I kept my distance near the booth, watching an old woman shape delicate leather into handmade sandals. Her husband painted beside her, brushing bold colors into soft, patient strokes across a canvas. I told them it was beautiful. I meant it.The longer I stood there, the more I felt it creeping in again—comfort. Warmth. That dangerous illusion.Behind me, Damon laughed low at something a kid shouted. I could still feel the imprint of his hands on my skin. His weight. His mouth.Stop.I tried to breathe.“You want one?” he asked, voice low beside me.I hadn’t realize
The Stranger My Heart Belonged To 56. Edges And Distance.
DAMON'S POVThe second we stepped off the plane, they were already waiting.Bright clothes. Too-wide smiles. A woman with a tray full of flower garlands stepped forward and draped one over Sadie’s neck, then mine.Another tucked a frangipani behind her ear, and I caught it—how her hair shifted in the sun. Soft. The petals resting against her cheekbone. Something in my chest jerked.I crushed it before it moved.We were led through a breezy open-air walkway lined with palm trees and whitewashed walls. One of the staff, in an embroidered linen shirt, handed me the room key with a little too much ceremony.“The honeymoon suite,” he grinned. “Your luggage is already inside. But Mr. and Mrs. Prince might want to enjoy the view first. Lunch is ready at the ocean deck.”Sadie didn’t say anything. She was quiet, polite. Smiling like she had to. Her fingers brushed her necklace. She looked exhausted.So was I.We followed him down toward the restaurant near the sea, the scent of grilled seafoo
The Stranger My Heart Belonged To 55. Guarded.
SADIE’S POVThe plane hummed beneath us, a low mechanical drone that should’ve lulled me to sleep. But my mind wouldn’t shut off.I sat still, seatbelt buckled, hands folded neatly in my lap like I didn’t know what else to do with them. Outside the window, clouds stretched wide and endless, but even that felt too close. Too suffocating.He was here. Damon. Sitting across from me, technically—far, but facing me. The kind of private jet layout that made avoiding eye contact impossible if either of us looked up.We were flying to Bellmare. Supposedly for our honeymoon. A week. Seven days in the same house, the same room—the same bed.I couldn’t stop remembering everything, all at once. The night I gave him my body. The way he held me like it meant something. The wedding day that followed, when the world applauded while I felt like I couldn’t breathe. And his voice in the dark—I remember.But after that?He pulled away. Barely looked at me. Spoke less. Didn’t touch me. Not even by acciden
The Stranger My Heart Belonged To 54. Not Made For This.
DAMON’S POVThe ballroom was clearing out.All that was left of the wedding were champagne stains, wilting flowers, and too much perfume in the air.Sadie stood near the exit, saying goodbye to Casey and that assistant of hers—the one with the clipboard and the over-apologetic smile. She wore a tired smile, too, but hers was softer. More honest. The kind of smile people gave when they were trying to stay composed for everyone but themselves.I remained seated a few steps away. Watching her.She turned to us—me and Grandpa—with her voice still gentle. Still that careful, polite tone she wore like armor when she was tired. “I’ll head up first. My feet are killing me.”Then, right there in front of everyone, she slipped off her heels.It shouldn’t have mattered. But it did.The way her fingers moved over the strap. The way her bare feet pressed into the cold marble. The smallest wince as she stepped forward. It was human. Soft. Real.She didn’t look back.Didn’t wait for me.Just walked
The Stranger My Heart Belonged To 53. If We Let Ourselves.
SADIE'S POVThe music was soft, orchestral, and romantic—the kind of background melody designed to blur the lines between performance and feeling. And for a moment, I let it blur.I let Damon guide me into the rhythm, his hand light on my back, his touch steady.God, he was beautiful.He always was, but tonight it hit differently. The suit was tailored to him like it was part of his skin, all sharp edges and clean lines that only made him look taller, colder, more unattainable. And I noticed—so did everyone else. Casey whispered earlier that a few girls from the makeup team had tried to flirt with him. One even offered to “fix his collar” when it wasn’t crooked.I didn’t blame them. But I hated how much it made my chest tighten.And now here we were—spinning under them like it meant something. Like it wasn’t all just a show. Just the two of us in the center of everything. Every eye watching. Every camera waiting.His hand found my waist again—firm, possessive, practiced. And like alwa
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