All Chapters of The Price of Vulnerability : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

:The Second Dinner Saturday arrived with an unusual sense of anticipation. Mr. Wells wasn’t a man who spent time wondering about the outcome of an evening. He preferred certainty, control. But with Naomi, he had neither. And he was starting to realize… he liked it. She had chosen the restaurant this time—a small, tucked-away bistro in the city that lacked the grandeur of his usual selections. It was intimate, understated, and completely unlike the places he usually entertained women. Which told him one thing: Naomi was testing him. When he arrived, she was already seated at a table by the window, her posture relaxed, fingers lightly tracing the rim of her wine glass. Her expression remained unreadable, but there was a glint in her eyes when she saw him—something amused, something knowing. “You’re late,” she said as he slid into the chair across from her. Wells smirked. “By two minutes.” “Still late.” He chuckled. “Are you always this strict with time?” “I just believe in ef

The week following their dinner felt like a blur. Wells couldn’t escape the feeling that Naomi was constantly in his mind, threading her way through his thoughts with quiet persistence. He had always been the one to dictate the pace, the tone, the direction. But with her, he was forced to follow, to wait, and to question his every move. It wasn’t just the way she acted, or the sharpness in her gaze. It was her presence—so understated, yet so profound. Naomi didn’t speak in grand gestures, and she didn’t chase attention. She simply was, and that made her infinitely more dangerous than any woman he had encountered. Friday afternoon, Wells found himself standing in front of his office window, staring out over the city, when his phone buzzed. Naomi: You coming to dinner tonight, or should I assume you’re not up for the challenge? The challenge. He smiled to himself. Wells: I’m on my way. No hesitation. No second thoughts. It was the game, after all, and Naomi was playing it well.

The first thing people noticed about Mr. Wells was his presence—commanding, assured, and just distant enough to keep others intrigued. He was the type of man who could walk into a room and immediately shift the energy, his confidence so natural it felt effortless. But confidence, much like armor, was often forged in fire.Mr. Wells hadn’t always been this way. There was a time when he had believed in love, in vulnerability, in the kind of deep emotional connections that required baring one’s soul. That time was long gone.The Boy Who Once BelievedBorn into a family where emotions were rarely acknowledged, William Wells—before he became simply “Mr. Wells” to the world—learned early on that love was conditional. His father, a highly disciplined man, demanded perfection in all things, and his mother, though affectionate in her way, was often too exhausted from trying to keep up with her husband’s expectations to offer the warmth young William craved.As a boy, he had watched his parents

It had been days since their last date, and yet, Mr. Wells found himself thinking about Naomi more than he cared to admit.He wasn’t the type to dwell. Relationships—if he even allowed them to be called that—were strategic, controlled. He pursued women the way he pursued business—decisively, efficiently, with a clear outcome in mind.But Naomi wasn’t following the expected script.She had let him in just enough to keep him intrigued, yet never enough for him to feel certain of where he stood. He had been the one to text her first after their second date—something he rarely did. And when she took her time responding, he reminded himself that patience wasn’t weakness.She wasn’t playing hard to get. She simply wasn’t playing.That was the part that unsettled him the most.The Third Meeting: An Unexpected InvitationNaomi hadn’t been avoiding him, but she also hadn’t been rushing to see him again. She liked Mr. Wells—more than she expected to—but liking him didn’t mean she trusted him.H

Naomi had spent years mastering the art of detachment. She didn’t dwell, didn’t second-guess. The past stayed where it belonged—behind her.So why, hours after leaving the gallery, did she still feel Jordan’s presence lingering in her mind?She sat on her couch, a glass of wine in her hand, staring at the city lights through her window. The night had started as something simple—a quiet, unassuming evening spent in the company of Mr. Wells and Elijah. But Jordan’s reappearance had changed that.And she hated that it had.Her phone buzzed, breaking her thoughts. A message from Mr. Wells.Didn’t like the way he looked at you.Naomi smirked, shaking her head. Of course, Mr. Wells wouldn’t just let the night go.That’s how he looks at everyone, she typed back.His response was immediate.No, that’s how a man looks at a woman he’s not over.Naomi exhaled slowly, her fingers hovering over the screen before finally responding.Then that’s his problem, isn’t it?She didn’t wait for a reply bef