5 - Anastasia.

I try not to shit myself in joy as I step aside to let Nate in, his familiar scent of musk, Nivea aftershave, and vanilla engulfing my senses. This is the first time he’s stepping foot into my house, and it almost doesn’t feel real. In fact, I pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. That the popular, hottest, most talked about and one of the richest billionaires in all of Los Angeles is right here in my house, looking devastatingly dashing.

He takes a few steps into the sitting room, and his presence fills the entire place up. But unlike his snotty, self-besotted asshole of a son Emerson, nothing reeked of arrogance or an over-bloated sense of importance in Nate’s demeanor. He assesses the place carefully. “You have a beautiful place. Your parents are phenomenal.”

“Well, thank you,” I say happily. The way he speaks will never not impress me. So calm, so soothing, so...manly. And I love the fact that every word that comes out of his mouth feels genuine. There’s nothing in my heart to make me think otherwise. This is a man as clear and real as glass. “Please make yourself at home.”

“Yes...yes. I came to check up on you. I heard what happened between you and my son. Are you alright?”

I shrug. I can’t pretend that Emerson’s words weren’t upsetting, but I’m strangely not heartbroken. I’d mentally prepared myself for our split weeks ago. I just didn’t envision it’d go down the way it did. “I’m trying my best. Not heartbroken, though.”

“Of course,” he gestures to the couch. I plop down, and he takes the seat a seat beside me, our legs touching. It feels as though I’m being set ablaze by that little body contact, but I manage to stay put. “I’ve heard things from Emerson’s point of view, even though I had to practically raise hell before he agreed to tell me. But I’d like to hear your own side of the story. It’s the only way I can truly balance the situation.”

We hold eye contact with each other for what feels like hours before I force myself to look away, my face no doubt flushed. The way he looks at me... it’s crazy. It elicits a lot of emotions. Emotions that ripple throughout my body. He looks at me like he cares. Like he wants me close. Like he wants to be in my corner, and also want me to know that I can always count on him. His eyes are filled with compassion and such tenderness I’ve never seen in any man’s eyes before, and I know in my heart that yes, this is it. This is him. The man I want. I instantly want to tell him every bit, every secret, pour out my heart’s contents to him because I know that he’ll never mention a word of it to anyone else. That’s how much I can trust him.

Quickly, I delve into the details of my painful evening, starting from the when we got into the car, Emerson’s nasty comments about him, and the pink thong I saw tucked away in his settee. Throughout my explanation, Nate’s face is etched in concentration. Not once did he interrupt to ask questions or ask me to clarify anything, and his eyes were full of admiration and conviction at my part of the story. Once I finish, he exhales.

“Saying that I’m disappointed would be putting things lightly. I’m so sorry, Anna. The things Emerson said to you, they’re not true, and you shouldn’t waste time brooding on them. I know it may not help, but I want to apologize on his behalf. He’s still a boy. A lousy one at that who has no respect for a beautiful, well-behaved girl like you.”

“It’s all good,” I reply. “To be honest, I kind of expected it, given the way we’ve been going for the past few weeks. As for his comments this evening, I’m thrilled he did not hold back. I got to hear, for the first time, what he really thinks of me. I’m glad I’m not dating him anymore.”

Nate nods slowly, processing my words. “I won’t even advise you to go back to him even if you wanted to make things work again. A boy like Emerson... doesn’t deserve you.”

“Oh.”

Nate’s eyes drop to my lips now, and in the silence that follows, blood rushes to my ears. My heart beats louder, and it feels like I want to melt into a puddle right there. As if sensing the tension, he looks away and asks, “what were you up to when I arrived?” his eyes narrows in on the magazine on the table and he picks it up, checking out the faces on the cover. “A magazine.”

“Yes. I was reading that. I run a gossip blog, you know?”

“Really?” he arches his brows. “But Emerson never mentioned it to me.”

“That’s because he doesn’t know. I like to keep the details about it and me anonymous. It’s just something I do as a hobby. My parents don’t approve though.”

“May I see it? I swear to God, I won’t breathe a word about it to anyone.”

I freeze. Blinking, I ask again to make sure I heard him correctly. “You want to see my blog?”

He nods. “Yeah. I also love gossip.”

“Oh...I, it’s just that no one has ever shown any interest in it. This is crazy. Like, you’re actually being serious right now?” I can’t stop myself from blabbering, and it makes him laugh so hard, clutching his stomach as the rich sound pours out of him and bounce off the walls back to my eardrums like sweet music. I snap shut and wait for him to give me an out after he’s done laughing; tell me he’s just messing with me, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he nods earnestly. “Don’t keep me waiting. Go get your laptop. Let me see the extent your creative mind can go.”