Chapter 3

Leah’s POV

“Come on, you’ve been pacing for the last thirty minutes. Tell me what is really going on.”  

Ethan’s voice pulls me from my spiraling thoughts, but I don’t stop moving. My mind is too tangled, too restless.  

“It’s my father,” I answer with a sigh, finally dropping onto the edge of the bed.  

Ethan props himself up on one elbow, watching me closely. “What about him?”  

I shake my head ruefully. “I’m sorry, I can’t. Father says it’s confidential information.” I lie.  

His expression darkens. “Seriously, Leah?” He pushes himself into a sitting position, raking a hand through his messy hair. “After the night we had, you’re still shutting me out?”  

My chest tightens.  

Last night had been perfect. A rooftop dinner under the stars, wine that tasted like velvet on my tongue, laughter that felt effortless. I had wanted to say goodnight and return home alone, but Ethan had stopped me.  

"It’s been too perfect to end here," he had murmured, intertwining our fingers. "Let me stay."

And I had let him.  

But now, as I glance at him—the hurt flickering behind his eyes, the growing frustration in his furrowed brow—I regret my words.  

Ethan exhales sharply, shaking his head. “You’re always like this. So damn uptight and secretive.”  

I flinch. “That’s not fair.”  

“Isn’t it?” His tone is clipped. “You keep me at arm’s length, Leah. Even after everything, after last night. It’s like you don’t trust me.”  

Guilt gnaws at me, but I refuse to let it take hold. I can’t tell him the truth. Not about this.  

So instead, I snap to my feet and hurry toward the telephone, eager to escape the weight of his gaze.  

This time, I am the one who punches in my father’s number. I am the one who calls him.  

He picks up on the first ring.  

“Why would you want me to work with the man who broke my heart? Have you forgotten so soon?”  

My father’s voice comes through the receiver, calm and measured as always. “Leah, you’re taken now. You should have long forgotten about him in that manner.”  

I bite down hard on my lip, gripping the phone tighter. “It’s not that simple, Father. You weren’t the one who got left days before your wedding? You didn’t have to pick up the pieces of your life after he vanished!”  

“I understand your feelings,” he says, though his tone carries none of the empathy his words suggest. “But this is business. The man owns a multi-million-dollar jewelry company, Leah. Glimmr has revolutionized the fashion industry, appealing to demographics most brands can only dream of. And let me remind you—Dwight has never agreed to collaborate with any other brand before. Not once.”  

“Then why now?” I snap, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.  

There’s a pause, and I can almost hear him weighing how much to say.  

“Because he agreed under one condition: that you work on the project with him.”  

I feel like the floor has been pulled out from under me.  

“What?”  

“You heard me. He insisted that you personally oversee the collaboration. He wouldn’t agree otherwise.”  

My heart pounds, my thoughts racing as I try to comprehend what my father is saying. Why would Dwight want me involved? Is this some twisted attempt at reconciliation? Or is he just trying to make my life difficult?  

“You didn’t think to ask me how I felt about this before agreeing?” I demand, anger bubbling to the surface.  

“This is bigger than your feelings, Leah,” my father replies, his voice sharp now. “Veloura’s next clothing line is our most ambitious yet. Pairing it with Glimmr’s accessories would guarantee its success. This isn’t just about you or Dwight. It’s about the future of the company.”  

I swallow hard, my chest tightening. My father’s words are a stark reminder of his priorities—business first, everything else second.  

“You’re meeting with Spencer in two days to kickstart the planning,” he continues. “This will be the biggest fashion show Veloura has ever launched. You’re capable, Leah. That’s why I chose you for this. And I trust you won’t let your personal history interfere.”  

The line goes dead before I can respond, leaving me staring blankly at the receiver.  

Two days. In two days, I’ll be face-to-face with Dwight again.  

I drop the phone back onto the cradle and slump onto the bed, my mind spinning.  

Ethan’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.  

“Everything okay?” he asks, his brow furrowed with concern.  

I force a smile, though it feels like my face might crack under the strain. “Yeah. Just… work stuff.”  

He studies me, unimpressed. “Work stuff,” he repeats flatly.  

I nod. “Anything I can help with?”  

“No,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “It’s something I need to handle on my own.”  

Ethan lets out a bitter laugh. “Of course it is. Because that’s  what you do, Leah. You push people away.”  

My stomach clenches.  

He scoffs, running a hand down his face. “You know, last night felt different. It felt like we were finally *getting* somewhere. But now? You’re back to keeping secrets.”  

“I’m not—”  

“You are.” His gaze hardens. “And I don’t know why I keep pretending it doesn’t bother me.”  

His words sting, but I don’t argue. What’s the point?  

After a moment, Ethan exhales, shaking his head. “Look, I’m not gonna force you to talk. But you can’t expect me to just pretend I don’t see what’s happening here.”  

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Ethan, I—”  

“Forget it,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “You clearly don’t trust me enough to be honest.”  

He turns away, heading back to bed.  

I sit there, staring at the darkened window, a mix of dread and anticipation swirling in my chest.  

Two days. I’ll have to see Dwight, speak to him, and work with him.  

And no matter how much I tell myself I’m over it, that I’m stronger now, I can’t deny the truth gnawing at the edges of my mind.  

Dwight still has the power to unsettle me in a way no one else ever has.  

And I hate him for it.