I couldn't sleep that night. My heart raced and I felt restless. The next day was supposed to be my grand test of whether or not I would act well as Aren's fiancée. I could say that I wanted to do my job well because Aren was paying for my Grandma's medical treatment, but it was more than that. Fake relationship or not, I wanted to do well in front of his family. Was it weird?Yes, I was aware that I cared about him, probably much more than I should. The things he did, aside from teasing me, made the little chrysalises in my stomach turn into pesky butterflies. It was terrifying how quickly he could win me over. I was starting to treat him as an exception to my stereotypical image of a wealthy man. Of course, there was still the matter of mutual trust. Because my previous relationship damaged me, I needed full disclosure even though I knew that it could have been an unreasonable demand. Everyone had their own secrets and the right not to talk about things that were difficult for them

The man standing in front of me was my ex-boyfriend, Callan Garrod. He barely changed during those three years I hadn't seen him, but at that moment, I finally saw him without his fake mask of modesty, dressed in an expensive dark navy suit and black shirt. Aside from his rich-boy attire, he had the same sleekly combed pale-blond hair and icy-blue eyes that gave a disturbing stare. One corner of his thin lips was curled into a vicious smirk, as his eyes went through my length. "I have to admit that I'm impressed. You used to swear that you hated money, and now you are here, in the crown of Manhattan's richest… Isn't that a hypocrisy?" He chuckled, his eyes lustfully measuring my curves. I hated his eyes on me. I felt as if my body was being evaluated by him. I could see he enjoyed the view, while I found the view of him nauseating. "I was invited here," I squeezed through my clenched throat. "Oh, really? Now, that's interesting. Care to say who invited you?" Callan's amusement grew

I did it. I told someone about my relationship with Callan. I had to fight off my embarrassment and guilt, but voicing it out freed me from the poisonous load that had been crushing me for a very long time. Yes, I let him manipulate me. Yes, I was the one who let Callan take control over me. And yes, I'd been struggling to forgive myself. I knew what was going on. I couldn't use the excuse of temporary insanity because everything inside me screamed that this wasn't right. Callan's so-called love was highly toxic. Nonetheless, I ended up blaming myself for letting that man smash me like a bug.When did I become so defenseless? It was the moment I decided that I was in love with him. He used that against me. He cut me off from all the friends I had at the university so that he could be the only person I talked to. He kept telling me that no one could ever love me as he would. He told me that I could only be happy with him and with no one else, and I believed him. I believed in his lie s

It was a beautiful, sunny, and warm day. As I stepped outside on the terrace, the beach and ocean view instantly placed a smile on my face. The wind waved my loose hair, and I couldn't wait until I tossed the sandals off my feet and stepped on the beach sand, but I needed to fill my stomach first. Aren stepped toward me and grabbed my hand, tangling his fingers with mine."You look astonishing in that dress," he said, his eyes scanning my length."Thank you..." I responded, feeling heat flooding my cheeks, and then squeezed out a comment, "You look good in casual clothes.""Really?" His lips formed a wicked grin. "You don't like me when I wear suits then?""No... You look good in everything," I admitted, flustered like a dumb teenager.He leaned over me, his body close enough for me to feel his warmth. "So you do find me attractive?" he teased.I pushed him away, frowning. "You know damn well that I find you insanely handsome."He raised his eyebrows, looking at me genuinely surprised

Aren didn't question my decision. He only smirked and called Marcus. Thirty minutes later, we were in the car on our way to the airport, dressed in hurriedly chosen dry clothes."Here, wear this. Your hair is still damp." Aren handed me a baseball cap."Thank you," I replied with a faint smile.Those little things that proved that he cared made my heart warm. I used to dream about lovers' connection that I read about in romance books; a naïve dream of a freshman taking her first step into the land of relationships. I ended up giving my all and receiving little to nothing in return. I wanted to protect my heart against Aren, but at the same time, I had a feeling that Aren appreciated me more than my asshole ex-boyfriend ever did. I kept wondering whether I could remove the romantic feelings from the equation and accept Aren's offer. Was it a matter of my immaturity to think that I could fall in love and be loved? Perhaps it was time for a calculated compromise. Perhaps it was safer tha