I sat in my office, staring blankly at the document in front of me, but I wasn’t reading a single word. My mind was elsewhere.Nolan’s offer replayed over and over in my head.“I don’t want anything in return. Just trust me.”It sounded too good to be true.I had spent years surrounded by men who only helped when they had something to gain—whether it was control, power, or even me.And yet, here was Nolan, offering me a way out without asking for a single thing.It didn’t make sense.Was he playing some long game I wasn’t seeing? Did he have a hidden agenda?I wanted to believe he was different. That maybe, for once, someone was actually looking out for me.But I also wasn’t naïve.I knew better than to trust people at face value.A knock on my office door made me flinch. “Come in.”Brent stepped inside, his expression tense. He shut the door behind him before walking toward my desk.“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he asked, crossing his arms.I sighed. “You already know the a
The next few days were absolute chaos.Despite my best efforts to stay focused, the pressure was crushing.Lorenzo wasn’t slowing down. If anything, he was accelerating his takeover plans. More investors were pulling out. More rumors were circulating. And every time I thought we had a moment to breathe, another headline would appear, twisting the knife deeper.But through it all, I waited for Nolan.I had no idea what he was planning.I hated that.I hated sitting in my office, staring at my phone, waiting for a call that might never come.Brent and Chelsea were both wary of the situation. Brent especially.“You’re relying on a man we barely know, Demi.”I knew that.But at this point, what choice did I have?Finally, on the fourth day, Nolan called.“Meet me.”That was all he said before hanging up.I grabbed my coat and left.***I found Nolan at a private lounge in one of the city’s most exclusive hotels.He was sitting in a leather chair, sipping whiskey like he had all the time i
I barely made it to my car before my hands started shaking.Damn it.I gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying to steady my breath.Nolan’s words echoed in my mind."I want you to marry me.""If you refuse, I can always bring Lorenzo back into the picture."I closed my eyes, frustration bubbling in my chest.I had worked so hard to keep Lorenzo from completely taking over my father’s company. And now, Nolan—the one who had helped me get rid of him—was using the same threat against me.I should have seen it coming.I should have never trusted him.A bitter laugh escaped me.I was an idiot.***I didn’t go home right away.Instead, I found myself driving aimlessly around the city, my thoughts a tangled mess.I knew Nolan wasn’t bluffing.If I refused him, he would absolutely bring Lorenzo back just to pressure me further.And I couldn’t let that happen.I had barely regained control of the company. The shareholders were finally regaining confidence. If Lorenzo came back into the pict
I barely slept that night.My father was awake. That should have been good news—great news—but instead, my mind was in turmoil.I had been seconds away from signing that contract with Nolan. Seconds away from locking myself into a deal I desperately didn’t want.And now?Now, I had a chance to delay it. Maybe even stop it completely.But how?I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at my phone, my fingers hovering over Nolan’s number.I had to call him. Had to tell him that I wasn’t signing anything yet.But that meant going against him. And I knew how he played this game.I had agreed to this deal. If I backed out now, even temporarily, he’d make me regret it.Still, I had no choice.Taking a deep breath, I dialed his number.He picked up on the first ring, like he had been expecting my call.“Demi,” Nolan’s voice was smooth, but there was a hint of amusement there. “I was wondering when you’d call.”I gripped the phone tightly. “I need to delay the agreement.”A pause.Then—“Excuse me
I barely heard the sound of my own heels clicking against the hospital’s tiled floors as I rushed toward my father’s room. My heart pounded so hard in my chest that it felt like it might burst.He was awake.That single thought drowned out everything else.Pushing open the door, I found him sitting up slightly, his face pale but his eyes alert. Relief surged through me so fast that I had to grip the doorframe to steady myself.“Dad…” My voice cracked.His gaze lifted to mine, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I saw warmth in his eyes.“Demi.” His voice was hoarse, weaker than I remembered. But he was awake. He was speaking. And that was all that mattered.I rushed to his side, grabbing his hand. “How are you feeling?”He let out a dry chuckle. “Like I got hit by a truck… and then the damn truck decided to back up and hit me again.”A laugh bubbled in my throat, but it quickly turned into something else—something raw. I squeezed his hand tighter, afraid that if I let go
I let the word hang in the air. Mine.Possessive. Confident. A declaration.The man—someone from a hedge fund, I vaguely recalled—chuckled as he shook Nolan’s hand. “Of course she is,” he mused, his gaze lingering on me a beat too long. “You always did know how to pick them.”Nolan’s grip on my waist tightened slightly, just enough to make a point. A warning.I played my part, tilting my head toward him like a woman perfectly comfortable in his grasp. “He’s very persuasive,” I said smoothly, watching Nolan’s reaction from the corner of my eye.His smirk deepened. “She’s a quick learner.”The man laughed, clearly entertained. “Well, I won’t keep you. Enjoy your evening.”As soon as he walked away, I turned to Nolan, my voice sickly sweet. “Mine?”He didn’t look the least bit regretful. “Would you rather I introduce you as the woman who owes me a favor?”My jaw tightened. “I would rather you not introduce me at all.”He smiled like I had just said something amusing. “But that would be a
The second my lips brushed against his, I knew I had made a mistake.A terrible, reckless, unforgivable mistake.Because the moment it happened, Nolan took over.He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t second-guess.His hand slid around the back of my neck, fingers curling into my hair as he tilted my head, deepening the kiss without an ounce of restraint. His other hand gripped my waist, pulling me flush against him, trapping me in the heat of his body.I gasped against his mouth, and he took full advantage, pressing deeper, his tongue brushing against mine in a slow, deliberate stroke that sent a shiver all the way down to my toes.Damn him.Damn me.I knew better. I knew what he was capable of—how he twisted things, how he played these games like he always won because he did always win.And yet…I didn’t pull away.Not when I should have. Not when I had every reason to.Instead, my fingers curled into the lapels of his suit, gripping him like he was the only thing keeping me standing.I hated h
I should have walked away.After that dance, after the way he held me like he was proving a point, I should have put as much distance between us as possible.But Nolan had other plans.And unfortunately, so did Anthony Carter.***After the dance, Nolan guided me toward a private lounge tucked away from the main gala. Plush velvet seating, dim lighting, and a bar stocked with the rarest liquors.Anthony Carter was already there, lounging in one of the leather chairs, a glass of whiskey in his hand.I shot Nolan a sharp look. “What is this?”“A conversation.” His smirk was infuriating. “Sit.”I didn’t. Instead, I crossed my arms. “If you think I’m going to sit through whatever twisted plan you two have—”“Demi.”The way Nolan said my name made my stomach twist. Not with fear, but with something worse.Something dangerous.Anthony chuckled, swirling his drink. “You’ve got fire, I’ll give you that.” His gaze flicked to Nolan. “I can see why you like her.”I clenched my fists. “Get to the
Around noon, I found a note taped to my computer monitor. Simple, clean handwriting. I didn’t need to ask who it was from."Dinner. Your place. 7PM. You don’t have to say anything. Just let me try. –J"I stared at it for a long time.It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t a demand.It was... a hope.A quiet one. One I hadn’t earned yet. One I wasn’t sure I could accept.But when seven o’clock rolled around, I was home. I had lit candles. Put on soft music. Worn something that wasn’t just lounge clothes.And I waited.At 7:02, there was a knock.I opened the door, and there he was—holding a bag of takeout from my favorite Thai place, rain in his hair, uncertainty in his eyes.“Hi,” he said softly.“Hi,” I replied.He stepped inside, and we moved through the motions like a dance we hadn’t forgotten. Plates. Chopsticks. Steam curling from cartons. But the real heat in the room wasn’t from the food.It was the tension.I finally broke it.“Who was that message from?” I asked, voice even but my heart
I didn’t go far. Just to the small park down the block from Jeff’s condo unit—the one with the crooked benches and a fountain that hadn’t worked since spring. I sat there, my coat tight around me, watching the early evening swallow the sky whole.I didn’t cry. Not really.I was too tired for tears. Too wrung out from constantly stitching together the pieces of us, only to watch them come loose again.I pulled my phone out, stared at the blank screen. No texts. No calls. And maybe that was the point. Jeff had said he wouldn’t stop trying, but he hadn’t come after me. Not this time.Maybe he was learning to give me space. Or maybe he was just as exhausted as I was.A gust of wind tore through the branches above, scattering brittle leaves across my boots.Why does love feel like this sometimes?Not soft and soothing, but raw. Like walking barefoot on broken glass, hoping every step doesn’t cut too deep. Hoping the bleeding stops before the next fight.But despite everything, I didn’t wan
Around noon, I found a note taped to my computer monitor. Simple, clean handwriting. I didn’t need to ask who it was from."Dinner. Your place. 7PM. You don’t have to say anything. Just let me try. –J"I stared at it for a long time.It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t a demand.It was... a hope.A quiet one. One I hadn’t earned yet. One I wasn’t sure I could accept.But when seven o’clock rolled around, I was home. I had lit candles. Put on soft music. Worn something that wasn’t just lounge clothes.And I waited.At 7:02, there was a knock.I opened the door, and there he was—holding a bag of takeout from my favorite Thai place, rain in his hair, uncertainty in his eyes.“Hi,” he said softly.“Hi,” I replied.He stepped inside, and we moved through the motions like a dance we hadn’t forgotten. Plates. Chopsticks. Steam curling from cartons. But the real heat in the room wasn’t from the food.It was the tension.I finally broke it.“Who was that message from?” I asked, voice even but my heart
By Monday, we were back in the city.Jeff dropped me off at my place, and though we kissed goodbye with a promise to see each other soon, something lingered between us—something unspoken and tense, like a storm hovering just beyond the horizon.I tried to shake it off as I stepped into my apartment. I unpacked slowly, letting the quiet settle around me. But my thoughts refused to sit still.Why now? Why was Stella suddenly trying to reappear? And why did Jeff hesitate before telling me?It wasn’t fair—he’d done so much to regain my trust. He’d been showing up, loving me in all the right ways. But one whisper from the past, and the walls I’d slowly let fall started climbing back up.I turned on some music, something soft, just to quiet the noise inside my head. And that’s when my phone buzzed.It was a message. From an unknown number.Unknown: "You can believe him if you want. But you should know he came back to me once before. Right after the first time you left."I stared at the scre
There’s something strangely intimate about folding laundry with someone you love. Not the kind of love that’s still wrapped in red ribbons and candlelit dinners, but the kind that shows up in the quiet domesticity of Sunday afternoons—barefoot, soft music in the background, mismatched socks everywhere.Jeff held up one of my oversized sweaters, the sleeves drooping like tired arms. “This still smells like that coconut shampoo you use.”I glanced up from the pile of towels. “I haven’t used that shampoo in months.”“Must be haunted,” he smirked, then tossed it gently to my side of the bed.I laughed, but it came with a soft ache. This was good. Easy. Comfortable. Almost too comfortable.Maybe that’s why it blindsided me when the tension returned—sharp and unexpected like stepping on glass in a room you thought was safe.It happened that evening.We were cleaning out the hallway closet when Jeff’s phone buzzed on the console table. Once. Twice. Three times.He didn’t reach for it.I woul
Demi's POVI stared at the message long after Jeff disappeared down the stairs, heading toward the beach. The wind outside had picked up, brushing against the glass like a warning. I hated that this had happened—now, of all times. Things were just starting to feel steady again.I didn’t even know how he’d gotten my number. I’d deleted it all—his texts, his name, his presence from my life the moment I realized he was a distraction from what I really wanted.From Jeff.And now he comes crawling back, like the past didn’t already do enough damage.I grabbed my phone and typed a response, my fingers moving fast and sharp.“Do not contact me again. This is inappropriate and unwanted. I’m with someone I love—don’t ruin what little decency you have left.”Send.Block.Delete.My chest heaved as I placed the phone face down on the railing of the porch. The waves crashed in the distance, but I couldn’t hear them over the thud of my heart. This wasn’t fair—not to Jeff, not to me, not to what we
Chelsea popped her head into my office later that day.“You look like someone ran over your optimism.”“Not now, Chels.”She walked in anyway, plopping down on the chair across from me. “Okay. Spill.”I told her.Everything.From the breakfast to the journal to the half-confession that landed like a gut-punch instead of a step forward.Chelsea didn’t say anything right away. Then: “Do you regret telling him?”“No. But I hate that it hurt him.”“Demi, listen.” She leaned forward. “You did what most people wouldn’t have the guts to do. You gave him the full picture. He asked for proof you were in this for real, and you gave it. He needs to sit with it, sure—but that doesn’t mean he’s leaving.”“I know,” I said quietly. “But I can’t help feeling like I poked a hole in something just as it was starting to feel whole again.”“Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe that hole is where the light gets in.”I groaned. “Did you just quote Leonard Cohen at me?”She grinned. “Absolutely.”I managed a smile,
Demi's POVIt wasn’t the phone call that broke me.Not really.It was the pause. That flicker of hesitation in Jeff’s eyes. The microsecond where I saw him debate whether to tell me the truth. It was the weight of everything we were trying to rebuild pressing on one fragile moment.And I hated that it felt familiar.That split-second uncertainty—the one that made me question whether I was still the girl who could be forgotten. Set aside. Replaced.But I didn’t spiral. Not this time.Because I’d promised myself something too: that I wouldn’t run anymore. That I would stay. That I would speak instead of shut down.Even if it hurt.The morning after he blocked Stella, we went through the motions like nothing had happened.Coffee. Shower. Quiet music playing from my phone as I tied my hair up.But my stomach still twisted when I caught him staring at me—like he was trying to read between the lines of my silence.“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, gently.I thought about lying. I re
Trying is one thing.But staying?That’s the real test.And for the next week, Jeff and I tried.Not in grand, sweeping gestures. Not in dramatic confessions under the rain or fairy tale moments. But in the quiet decisions—the daily check-ins, the shared silences, the soft compromises that slowly stitched us back together.I started trusting him again. Not all at once, but in fragments. Like handing him pieces of a puzzle that used to be whole, asking him to rebuild without the picture on the box.And Jeff?He never once complained.He didn’t push when I asked for space. He didn’t flinch when I brought up Ethan, or Stella, or the silence that had almost swallowed us whole. He listened. He showed up. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I was walking alone.Until Thursday.We were supposed to meet at the gallery.My newest commission piece had just been installed, and Jeff offered to help me with the lighting setup before the weekend preview. It was a simple ask—sh