CHAPTER 1

Amanda

TWO YEARS BACK

Eighteen.

Even though it's a little quantity, it's significant,to me, at least.

I feel a stinging rain lashing me as I shudder. I've never been able to figure out why it's essential in a location as sticky as the Stationers Diner because it soaks the front of my blue and white striped dress, which is so spotless.

I might have the stamina to care about the criticism I'll receive for serving customers while dressing as though I just went for a dive if it weren't today. Today, though, is distinct. Special. Even though it is a typical Wednesday afternoon with the same murky blue sky overhead.

I aim for a little puddle a few feet away as I fling the unlit cigarette I have in my palm, which is just as damp as my grayish-white tennis shoes. It comes close, but falls short. Again.Stupid dude.Instead, it is reunited with its drowned relatives from earlier periods of time.

The one birthday present I've wanted since my mother closed her eyes when I was six years old and no amount of pleading or crying could get her to open them again is now mine after just this last shift.

Freedom.

I pretend to smoke since it's the only way to obtain more breaks at the diner. I'm pleased to make the most of this benefit of having a smoker for a boss. When he runs out of cigarettes, it's less of an advantage and more of a circumstance where you should keep your head down and avoid breathing too loudly for fear of catching his notice. I've come to realise that withdrawal from nicotine is no joke.

In this tiny cafe, Oliver, the usually greasy-smelling short-order cook, offers me a cigarette in exchange for a smile. Oliver has never bothered to inquire as to whether I am old enough. I don't mind because he is unharmful.

I then take a two-minute break from the clients before taking three minutes to cover up the bruises on my face and arms (makeup never lasts a full shift). It was time for a smoke break when I observed a woman on table six taking an extended look at my right cheek.

Rain pours down on me as I step out of the kitchen doorway. I tilt my head up and close my eyes firmly, causing the liquid to run down my face like tears. Even though it's not quite cool enough to be refreshing, I've always enjoyed the way it makes me feel. Clean.

I have four more hours till I can pick up my paycheck, dash home to gather the remaining cash I've been saving over the years, and begin looking for a flat.

I'll have to find a landlord who's a bit less picky than—Landlords won't exactly be queuing up to rent to a just-turned-eighteen-year-old with no references.

"Amanda!Where is she, fuck?

The half-mumbled cry from behind me causes my eyelids to open.

D*ck, dad.

Spinning around, I race inside thinking it's too late when I see Geoff, my employer, pushing a dark-haired, blue-eyed man in a stained grey t-shirt and open-cropped jeans away from the cash register on the opposite side of the counter.

Dad stumbles back and yells, "She owes me money," as he nearly falls over after Geoff shoved him hard.

Geoff may spend more time smoking or eating burgers than working out, as evidenced by the fact that his belly touches the register even though he is two feet away. He is, nonetheless, astonishingly powerful for a man of his size.

Dad and I don't argue over who owes who money. Simply said, it would be a waste of time.

I suppose my previous hiding place was simply too excellent.

Either that, or he's too stinking inebriated to look past the tip of his nose.

"Dad, hurry up." Knowing that I won't have a job waiting for me when I get back from driving him home, I move in his direction. Not after the last time he chose to drop by my workplace. or the period before to that.

Although this is not the first job to end in this manner, it will be the last as I am now 18 and, in the eyes of the world, an adult.Finally.

All I can hope for is that, unlike some of my previous bosses, who pretended they had never met me when I returned to collect what they owed me, Geoff will genuinely pay me for the last few days.

I close my hand around Dad's arm and tug while focusing on him rather than the customers I feel are gazing. "Let's go get you—"

I'm knocked off my feet by his punch.

I grunt as I crash into a table, feeling the edge like a blow to the stomach before I bounce off of it. There is a gulp. Not me. I can only wheeze at this point since I am out of breath.

Salt, or is it sugar? Whatever it is flies away as ketchup from someone's fries dish spreads all over the front of my dress.

A dull throbbing heat emerges on the right side of my face, and I slump to the ground, gripping my stomach.

Geoff is speaking and asking Dad to leave, but it seems like his voice is coming from a very far distance. I struggle to contain my emotions as I lay on the chilly floor and stare at the white plastic linoleum that I mop every night. I feel numb.

Amanda, rise. Just maintain your composure for a little while longer.

What birthday celebration would be complete without getting smacked in the face in front of a packed restaurant?

Later, feel terrible for yourself. Get up.Now.

When the front door swings open, a pair of spotless black leather shoes appear at the very edge of my field of vision as I struggle to stand up. "I need to find—"

I don't frequently hear the rich, confident male voice, especially in this seedy area of the city, and when it abruptly ceases, it detracts from my embarrassment.

I raise my brow.

The dark-haired man standing at the door in a pricey suit and mine collide. When I look at him, I'm surprised that he even recognizes the unassuming Amanda Leo with the drunken father, the long, dark hair that isn't sure if it should be curly or straight, and the blue eyes that are equally undecided about whether they should be blue or grey.

Yet he notices me. This man has wonderfully coiffed, wavy brown-black hair, and brilliant blue eyes that twinkle like gem-like gemstone facets. Flawless. He has a cat-like smile that spreads over his lips, his olive-gold skin making his straight, white teeth even more radiant.

He blinks, and his eyes return to being that clear blue after briefly turning silvery grey, giving the impression that an animal is staring back at me.

Obviously I was just seeing stuff.

I don't remember to breathe as he stalks towards me.

Dad is yelling that he needs money, and I am aware of this, but it seems to be happening in another room rather than directly behind me. However, it doesn't appear crucial. Not with this ideal man approaching me while acting as though I am his entire focus.

Alternatively, it won't matter till Dad's hand is around the back of my neck. Probably preparing to strike me once more. I crush into myself as I prepare for it. But the punch misses completely.

"Remove your hand from her."Now." I flinch at the voice of the well-dressed stranger because it is so icy and harsh.

Even though he is dressed in a sharp navy suit that appears to have been cut to fit him perfectly, only a fool would consider challenging him because to his strong shoulders and the ferocious blaze in his eyes. He would be at the height of his physical fitness at age 25, in my estimation.

Dad jerks his hand away more quickly than I thought he was capable of.

The guy stops less than a foot from me and extends a huge hand in my direction. His wrist has a silver glimmer that temporarily catches my attention. The name imprinted on the watch face shouts that the owner is wealthy beyond measure.Seriousmoney. Who could afford a Rolex besides you?

He says, "You belong with me," when I don't reach out to take his hand. "Are you feeling it?"

I shake my head no since I can't follow what he's saying.

He crouchs in front of me and mumbles, "Mate," in a low voice. He seemed content to disregard the seated diners' lack of conversation as well as the fact that I have ketchup all over the front of my dress and my chin. , "My heart."

Is this a real-life fairytale or just a dream?

When the anguish has subsided enough for me to speak, I tell him, "But I don't know you," hoping with every fibre of my being that it were true.

His next smile is so beautiful that it makes my heart hurt. The answer is "You will." His countenance hardens as his eyes dart over my shoulder to where Dad must be. "You won't ever endure pain like that again. I promise."

I desperately want to think that this handsome man who claims I am his is here to save me, so I cling to the idea that I am his.

However, he might be anyone.

My eyes scan his for any indication that he is a predator and that I am going to become his prey.

I fail to see it.

He bends his thick bottom lip into a tiny smile as if sensing what I'm thinking. "Across the street is a coffee shop. Do you realise it?

Anyone with more than two coins to rub together goes to the huge chain coffee shop for foamy coffees. I've never been that person. I nod.

"While we wait out the rain, we may sit right next to the large window. I failed to remember to carry an umbrella.

My gaze shifts to his pricey watch and coat.

What on earth were you doing here?

He does it again, reading my thinking. "My automobile had a problem. Come." He extends his hand to me again, and when I take it, he pulls me to my feet as if I were made of air.

I am not skinny since my stomach is too big for it. He shouldn't have had as much trouble picking me up, then. Still, he does.

He pulls me up close to him and walks me out of the restaurant while exuding the scent of pricey leather and security.

"Amanda!" Dad growls, sounding like he's heading in my direction. "Return here, or"

The man turns around once again. "You touched her with your hands. If you talk any more, I'll grab you. Despite his warning, he speaks softly. You don't want that, I said.

I turn just in time to see Dad recoil in fear, quickly coming to.

He stands up for me. vs Dad. When did that most recently occur?

Amanda, never. It has never occurred.

The man waits before turning around again. The door swings wide as his powerful palm grasps the handle, exposing that the rain hasn't abated even the slightest bit. He turns his head to look at me. Who are you called?

I raise an eye to him. "Amanda. "Amanda Leo"

His eyes are filled with joy. "Amanda Leo, such a lovely name. Darius here. On such a horrible day, how do you feel about me buying you a coffee?

It suddenly no longer feels unpleasant. I make an effort to sound more cautious than eager because he is still a stranger. "Just a cup of coffee?"

He bows. merely a coffee. And we will speak.

"Regarding what?"

He smiles at me like he doesn't even see the ketchup drying on my chin. Whatever you desire.

"You once referred to me as your partner. Perhaps we could discuss that?

He walks me out into the storm after slipping off of his expensive-looking suit jacket and draping it across my shoulders. Yes, perhaps we could.

I never turn around.

Never once.