Her heart was that of a lonely hunter.Yes and everything hurts.Elvie had always thought she was doomed by not being able to fall in love, but once she did fall, she wished she hadn’t. Now it hurt when she breathed, when she walked the hallways at work, and each time in between, when she caught sight of the person with a sharp suit and even sharper tongue moving past her, firing orders at Bella or bantering with the rest of the newsroom staff.A few weeks had passed. Four weeks after he’d shown up at her doorstep with flowers and chocolate, Zander had invited everyone into the conference room and announced that he’d given up his position and would only be staying for another month.After he made that announcement, he’d shot her a look, searching her face. Whatever he found there made him ask her to stay after the meeting was over so they could talk about it.She’d wanted to badly, but she knew nothing had changed. Though he often talked to Thea and visited her when he wasn't busy, he
The word “music” comes from the Muses, goddesses of the arts in Greek mythology.I never said it before, because I thought it was tacky, but you’re my goddess (especially your ass).—ZanderJohn Lennon started his music career as a choir boy.I never said it before, because it terrified me to admit it, but you’re my church (although I plan to be inside you way more than just on Sundays).—ZanderYour heart mimics the beat of the music you’re listening to.I didn’t know I even had one before you came along, and now I do, and it hurts like a motherfucker (thanks for that).—ZanderRemember in university? I stole your iPod before you stole my wallet. It was tucked inside my jacket before I even removed your panties. I wanted to know what you were listening to. (And I was sorely disappointed there were no Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake songs in sight, because it made not falling for you so much fucking harder.)—ZanderI tried to tell myself I broke up my contract with Kristal and her f
Zander set the papers down, sitting on the edge of her desk and lacing his fingers nonchalantly. So Matheo had planned it all along. The old cow killed his parents. His meeting Elvie, his falling in love with her, giving up on the Davis family—every single thing And he’d walked right into his trap. Well, almost. He would pay! Dearly. Zander thought to himself. He didn’t make the mistake of asking Elvie if she’d known about it. Of course she hadn’t. Instead, he focused on how to deal with this shit. “We’ve both been set up,” he said. “And he—the bastard—killed my parents!” His voice shuddered with enough hatred to melt the antarctic. And though he had his doubts before, he disregarded his instinct and thought that Matheo wasn't capable of doing such nineious things. “He—will pay! I will make sure he—” "Zander." She put a hand on his shoulder, and he resisted the urge to pull her into him and bury his face in her hair. “I'm sorry." Elvie had this touch that made sh*t go away. Bad shi
They went home to his mansion. To his cock’s disappointment, he slept in the master bedroom alone because Thea was sick and Elvie slept in her room. But it was still better than sleeping in a million-star hotel or at the Stanton Towers, which he couldn’t even look at after he’d learned what he had about his father not being his real father. He wasn’t the one who’d cheated on him. Yet Zander was the one who’d taken most of Matheo’s wrath. In the morning, Elvie gave her brother a shake from what looked like sewer water, green puke, and misery and slid a bowl of cereal his way. It wasn’t even a brand. It was poured right out of a six-pound industrial box with a Costco logo. “Where is the chef?” “Vacation…half of the staff too.” Elvie smiled. “Cavities and diabetes. Breakfast of champions,” Zander muttered into the bowl as he took a spoonful. “My apologies. Our room service doesn’t work on Mondays. Butler is sick. No chef, yeah so, stick with me!” Elvie took a seat next to her dad a
“I need you to turn my maybe into a definitely." Zander crawled into Elvie’s bed at the end of that gruelling Monday in the office. “Yeah, right. What are you doing here? Thea will—” “Come on, can a man get some time alone with his wife?” Elvie rolled her eyes, but she didn’t kick him out, even though a small, vindictive part of her wanted to. Life was too short to deprive yourself of spending time with those you love—something I’d learned the hard way. She thought to herself. His body seemed to mould into her massive mattress. Somehow, he fit. If there was one thing she’d realised this year, it was that sometimes they belong in the last place they thought they’d ever be. “Wife, let’s turn maybe into definitely.” “How can I do that?” she put her thriller in her lap and let his arm loop around her waist, dragging her into the crook of his shoulder. His lips fluttered along her neck. “Stay at SBC, stay with me no matter how this sh*t turns out. I can’t make it without you.” “Make
Elvie was shivering in the rain, and her mind was nowhere near sane. She was hurt, betrayed, and alone. But then she realised there was something in the rain that made her forget who she was—that she was nothing more than her husband's enemy. And, yes, her best friend was right; it was difficult to be a wife willing to sacrifice her heart for a husband who doesn't love her back. A few minutes later, she arrived at Stanton’s mansion. Elvie knocked on her husband’s door. "Zander!" "What the hell do you want?" His irritated voice came as he opened the door. Elvie sighed. "I've been married to you for a year, but we've never really been a couple." "So?" "I'll sign the divorce papers; you and your lover may proceed with your affair by calling it quits on our marriage." Zander frowned. "What do you mean?" "You're free to go. You can marry her. But for now, could y-you um, make love to me?" "What?" "This is my last and only request; please make up for my love for you throughout the
Five years later. Zander Stanton had heard a lot of lies in his life, particularly about his gorgeous, wicked, missing ex-wife, who had left him five years before. But this one took the cake. "That's impossible!" he exclaimed as he stared at the doctor. "She's lying. She's tricked me yet again with her elaborate scheme. She—" "I assure you, Mr. Stanton, it's real she really has no memory," said Dr. Bill solemnly. "Your ex-wife has no memory—not of you, not of me, and not even of her accident the day before." "Because she's a liar!" "It's real, sir. However, she was wearing a seat belt when her head hit the airbag," Dr. Bill explained further. "There is no concussion, but unfortunately—" With a frown on his face, Zander looked at the old man. He was known as a doctor of great talent and honesty. He was affluent as a result of a lifetime of servicing wealthy, aristocratic patients, and he couldn't be purchased. He was renowned as a family guy, still in love with his wife of 45 year
Elvie was vaguely aware of a murmur of voices and the faint hum of the heating system around her. Someone—was it the nurse? or the old doctor? She inhaled the sweet aroma of rain, ocean, and silky fabric. But she refused to open her eyes. Her head ached so badly that all she wanted to do was close her eyes and cry. She didn't want to get out of bed. She didn't want to leave the darkness and tranquility of sleep, the warmth of scarcely remembered dreams that still held her like a tight embrace. She didn't want to return to existence's void, where she had no memories. No identity. Nothing to hold on to. It was nothingness, far greater than any suffering. And then the doctor told her a few hours ago that she had a four-year-old daughter. She couldn’t remember conceiving the child. Couldn’t even remember the face of her baby’s father. But she will meet him today. He would be here in a minute. She thought to herself. Elvie clenched her eyes tight, covering her head with the pillow. She