Butterflies

The day of the wedding finally arrived.Layla had eventually come to terms with the fact that I wasn’t going to get back with Aiden. I still didn’t understand why she was so invested in the both of us being together, but she’d stopped arguing.Aiden, on the other hand, had been dramatic to the end.“I’ll always be there for you, Rachel.” A few days ago, Damian and I had breakfast together, where he made me choose my ring. I didn't even buy his ring. Mum handled that. “You’re really taking this marriage thing seriously, aren’t you?” I’d remarked.He looked at me dead in the eye.“Seventy percent of it is merely for my amusement, Rachel. Don’t flatter yourself.”Those words were a direct hit to my ego. “You mean to amuse yourself at my expense?”“Let’s just say,” he said slowly, “you’re a very interesting little woman.”Little?My brain stalled.“I’m not little.” “Darling, you’re five foot five. I’m six foot two. Those heels you always wear have made you forget your actual height.”

The Contract Kiss

My stomach churned endlessly with annoying butterflies and a tiny, traitorous part of my me was excited. It's like. my body no longer belongs to me.Oh boy.Damian's tall figure loomed in front of me, dressed in an immaculate black suit and then suddeny, his fingers appeared before my eyes. Long and controlled.They lifted my veil slowly and grazed the side of my face. A shiver ran down my spine before I could stop it.Annoying.I hated that my body reacted like that. I don't even know this man.The veil fell back completely, revealing my face to him and for a moment, he froze.Damian's eyes widened slightly. Not dramatically, but just enough for me to notice.He looked mesmerized.As if he hadn't expected to see what he saw beneath the veil.But the moment passed quickly.His expression smoothed into that usual composed mask of indifference.Of course it did. It always did. The crowd was getting impatient.“Don’t want to keep the people waiting, do we?” he said smoothly.His voice wa

The Realisation

I opened my eyes to the loud blaring of my phone.For a moment, I just lay there, half-awake and irritated, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from. Groaning softly, I reached for the phone on the bedside stand.Layla was calling. Definitely for the wedding night gossip.She had probably been waiting all night for this moment—to grill me about every single detail.I squinted at the screen, about to decline the call and return to my dreams, when my eyes caught the time at the top corner.8:48 a.m.My eyes widened and I immediately sat up.How did I sleep so late?I never slept past seven, even on weekends. .I threw the duvet off my body and swung my legs over the bed in a rush.And that was when I noticed it.My duvet was lilac.Not orange.I froze.My brows furrowed as I stared down at it. I didn't even own a lilac bedsheet.Slowly, confusion crept in and my eyes began scanning the room. Large windows covered by cream curtains.A dark wood dresser.A king-sized bed.The

The Meet

The first thing that hit me when we landed wasn’t the coolness of the air. It wasn't the sweet smell of the atmosphere. it was the wealth.Not the loud, desperate kind people try to show off on social media. No. This was quiet. Effortless. The kind that didn’t need validation.Damian Westwood owned a private jet.A private jet.I stared back at the sleek aircraft we descended from, my mind still trying to catch up with that single fact. The leather seats, the polished wood finishes, the way the flight attendant addressed him like royalty. It all replayed in my head as if I hadn’t just lived it. Just how rich were the Westwoods? I've asked myself this before and I still can't get my answer.Hawaii unfolded before us like something out of a dream. Endless stretches of turquoise water kissed the shoreline, the sand so pale and smooth, it almost glowed under the sun. Palm trees swayed lazily, as though they had no obligations in the world. Our “resort” wasn’t a resort.It was a private

A Second Mistake

The door shut behind us with a soft click. I was about heading straight for my room. But he pulled me back. My heart was beating fast but somewhat…. excited.What is wrong with me?The silence wasn’t empty, it pulsed. Thick, suffocating, alive with everything we hadn’t said back at that gathering. The air felt warmer here, heavier.“Rachel,”He stepped closer. I should have stepped back, but I didn’t.His hand found my wrist first, slow and deliberate. Not forceful. Just enough to make my breath hitch. His thumb brushed lightly against my skin, and something about that small, almost absent-minded touch sent a spark straight through me.“Tell me to walk away,” he murmured.I looked up at him.Big mistake.His eyes weren’t calm or teasing.They were dark. Intense. Focused entirely on me like I was the only thing in the world worth seeing.My lips parted.No words came out.His other hand came up to my jaw, tilting my face just slightly, giving him better access. I could feel his breat

Back Home

I stepped down from Damian’s, most likely absurdly expensive, private jet, my heels clicking softly against the polished steps.A strange sense of relief washed over me the moment my feet touched the ground. Although, I missed the resort. The quiet mornings. The endless horizon. The illusion of peace.But that was over now.This chaos, this city, this life—was where I belonged.Back to work.Back to reality.Back to claiming what was mine.A small smile tugged at my lips.Rachel Hartley.Soon to be CEO of Hartley Holdings.The title alone sent a thrill through me. I had imagined this moment more times than I could count. Power. Control. Independence.Everything I had worked for.Everything I had sacrificed for.In the middle of my thoughts, a hand slipped into mine.Damian.I stiffened immediately, instinctively trying to pull away, but his grip tightened just enough to stop me. Not forceful, but deliberate.“People are watching,” he murmured, his voice low, almost brushing against