Giselle's POVI began making my descent down the stairs of our mansion, my heart racing at a speed far too reckless for me. My brother Nicholas had his arm slung around mine, his silent comfort holding me back from totally losing it."Hey, Just Dad," he breathed, noticing me stiffen. "It's alright. He loves you."I nodded with wonder, and we entered into the gilded gold room where my father held court at an enormous gilt table, flanked by the most powerful and rich individuals in the nation.There was money as far as one could see—the gold chandeliers from the ceiling, the diamond-rimmed glasses clinking, the butlers walking quietly among the crowd, handing out the topchampagne.The second that my father had spotted me, his entire face was drenched in a ray. From the flash of speed, he leapt clear out of the chair, shatteringly soundfully booming loudly above all noise."Ahh! Here she is!" he boomed loudly victoriously, glass wildly splintering crazily towards him. "My beautiful daug
Giselle's POVNicholas's arms still around me, his calm words still ringing in my ears as I tempered the frantic racing of my heart. The shame I had endured downstairs still churning my stomach, but at least I did not have to suffer it by myself.Nicholas his hand in my hair, palm up, panting. "Do better than this, Giselle," he panted. "You are a Von Howard, and don't forget that."I didn't have time to respond when the door creaked open.His dark form at the doorway hesitated, instinctively demanding attention. Lord Benjamin Von Howard, my father.His scowl contorted his face out of plumb, his blue eyes scanning the room. They brushed against me for a moment, and in his presence something unbent. Tension creeping into his eyes unbent, his face unbent again into easy adoration.His face wrinkled up into a grin of a smile, and he took three stiff steps closer, arms out."Oh, sweet, sweet baby girl!" he roared, strangling me in a bear hug.I blew a bubble of propriety around the cheap p
Patrick's POVThe buzzing sound in the hospital swirled my head as I strolled along teg clinical corridor. The smell of antiseptic lingered in the air but it didn't bother me. My head was banging, I had many thoughts juggling in it.I was standing at the front door of Becky, board-stiff, fists open and clenched at my side. I could see through the glass door and she was in bed with the brown hair brushing against her shoulders and face beaming and bright with happiness.There was laughter.She laughed—laughing always—afore my mother and my sister Debbie.The three of them gazed.A knot in my throat. The last two days, my heart had been terror-stricken with fear of losing Becky. And here she was, smiling chatted, as if there were nothing ails her. And then just as quick and crushing, came the relief.As soon as relief came, though, another name floated into my head like a specter out of my mind.Giselle.And there was this burning pain slicing across my chest. I could hear the pounding
Giselle's POVPower. It's a strange thing. One minute you're at the mercy of your superiors and then you're the one who gets to be in charge.I've been helpless for too long—dumped, mocked, used as a pawn in someone else's game. Now I was walking into one of my father's companies, no longer the discount bride of another, but daughter of Lord Benjamin Von Howard himself—the rightful heir to his business empire.And I wasn't about to let the world remember otherwise.My heels hit the gleaming marble halls of Howard Enterprises, downtown glass spire skyscraper. The attendants swooped down on the line of precision, their presence heavy with fresh printed paper scent, coffee, and the subtle smell of expensive cologne.I had called ahead to the company beforehand that the heir to the Von Howard fortune was coming by, but what I had neglected to tell them was ever having given them my name.I wanted to see how they behaved in public.Above all, however, I wanted to know who was worth keeping
Patrick's POVThe Sun was only a glimmer on the horizon outside my windows as I grumbled my way out of bed, fatigue sticking to me like a second skin. Another day to endure.I was sleeping barely at all these days. With the money crisis that my company was undergoing and the romance scandal that I had, my head was being torn in two and losing the fight.I grumbled, sweeping my hair back from my face and rooting through my closet for a clean shirt. My evening suit was still draped on me, and I was done and gone within minutes.I made my way to the kitchen, confident a hot cup of coffee would send the fog of fatigue from my system. But when I reached the kitchen door, the TV in the living room stopped me in my tracks.It was not the television that brought me to a standstill.It was her name."Giselle Von Howard shocked the day when she fired Richard Dawson, chairman of Howard Enterprises, in a surprise move which left the business world awed."I turned about, eyes fixed on the screen a
Giselle's POVThe moment I entered my office, I could feel the adrenaline pumping in my veins.It was all fresh again. I wasn't sitting around waiting for someone to inform me that I wasn't the one. I had a purpose—a purpose that I had fought for myself.I was home. And everyone was finally coming to accept that.My name had been called by all of the morning tabloids—how I'd lost Richard Dawson, wanna-be CEO and a man who thought he could yell at me like some poor old wife instead of the daughter of Lord Benjamin Von Howard.His melt-down had taken only seconds, and it'd been worth every second to watch the look on his face when he'd understood that I could quite possibly destroy his career.I'd never been anything more or less than Patrick Hilton's wife who'd been dumped.Now? I was Giselle Von Howard.And they would never, ever forget it.I sat behind my desk at the far end of my office, reading over reports, making marginal notations, double-checking that all was as it should be at
Giselle's POVI just sat in my office for hours after Patrick had left, watching the door like he was suddenly going to step back through it. But of course he didn't.Part of me had liked watching him so needy, so desperate. For all that he'd tried to do to hurt me, it was good to see him wriggling. But a part of me.It hurt. I hated that moment. I resented that even with all the power that I had, there was this little weak corner of my heart that still remembered the man that Patrick used to be. The man that I loved.I balled my fists. He is gone. I repeated to myself. There was a knock and it brought me out of my reverie."Enter," I answered. Claire entered, clutching a stack of papers in one hand. "Miss Von Howard, I've got the recent reports on all of our subsidiary companies, just as you requested."I took the files from her, smiling. "Thanks." She paused before going on, "And also… something you might need to read." She handed me her tablet, already opened up to an article on it
Patrick's POVThe drive home was a rage-filled, insane blur—of something else too, something I wasn't confronting. Giselle's words still lingered in my head, slicing and cutting like a knife. "Tell me something, Patrick. If the situation were reversed—if I were down on my knees, begging for your help—would you help me?" I gritted my teeth.That terrible doubt. That gap of vulnerability. She'd witnessed it. And in that moment, I understood I'd lostwhatever delusion of control I'd foolishly thought I'd possessed.I shut the car door and stalked towards the house, fists balled. It wasn't supposed to have gone like this. Giselle would have been weeping, missing me and yearning for her return to my side, but instead, I had knelt, had behaved like some lovesick fool. And she'd enjoyed every second of it."Sir?" The butler was in the doorway, but I pushed him aside. I needed no tact. I flung the door open, the air filled with the scent of fine furniture wax and flower candles my mother adored
(Patrick's POV)The sun dipped low as I stood by the balcony door of the hotel suite, a wind in Miami's air brushing my face with whispers of destiny. I barely slept in the last two nights, and Giselle's silence was becoming too deafening. I checked my phone again, trying hard to call hers. Still busy.Becky had been quiet all morning. Too quiet. And I was too distracted to realize it. I just needed to hear Giselle, see her, know that she was alive."Patrick," my mother had tried to say a little while ago, trying to deflect the subject, "Becky's issue. she needs your help.""She needs my help because she fell trying to get my phone," I had answered, my voice colder than I intended it to be.Becky hadn't spoken to me since. And I hadn't spoken to her. I couldn't pretend, not with everything unraveling inside me.My ringing phone jolted me out of sleep. It was Debbie."Hey, Debbie," I said, already sensing the panic in her voice."Patrick, please. I need you to drive me to the contestan
Giselle's POVMy silence and Patrick's lingered behind us once we'd spoken. Not the type that creeps up and skinnies and tickles with anxiety, but instead a dense variety, filled by both parties and left untouched due to neither wishing to add any more bulk into the world. I had plopped on the couch, wrapped my legs tightly into my center, soft light from the lamp in the room casting limp shadow on the ceiling.He hadn't pushed. He hadn't insisted. That alone was reassuring and unnerving. Patrick was the one who always stepped back when I stepped back, and for some reason that always made me feel safer with him. But tonight I had wished he would have insisted—wished he would have pushed me to tell him everything I had kept locked inside.Because the truth was choking me.Victor had called me again.I didn't reply. I couldn't. His final message he ever sent just lingered in my inbox, unread: "You'll never be safe without me."He was right, at least—everything had felt unreal. Because I
Patrick's POVThe pounding waves on the beach was the raw, distant sound of the thunder. I was standing in front of the balcony of the suite, looking out over the ocean. The sky was a darker blue with an orange tint to it as the sun started to set. The peace of what I was seeing was such a contrast to the storm that raged inside of me.I had hoped that time would mend the gap between me and Giselle. But distance and silence could not remove the pain, the disillusion, or the deceptions that had built up between us. I had hoped that if I came here, if I was merely there, I could mend everything.But even then, after I'd made the reconciliation gesture, part of me was like walking on glass.I hadn't spoken to Giselle in reality since we'd talked on the beach. She'd retreated again into her silence, and this wall was there between us. One I wasn't sure I could climb.The ring of my phone reminded me of what was real. It was Grace on the phone."Patrick," her voice grated across the phone.
Giselle's POVThe ocean breeze swept over my hotel room floor-to-ceiling sheer flowing curtains, stroking my skin with the softness of silk. I was standing at the glass, arms crossed, looking out toward the horizon where the sky was dancing with the waves. Miami was another type of wildness—noisy and restive. But I was weary of twinkly lights and further cacophony of applause.My phone went quiet once more. No calls. No texts. Patrick hadn't called or texted me since that strange message he'd sent two nights before—the one where his voice broke, like he was holding something fragile and already letting it go.I wrapped my robe more securely around me and went to the dresser. My hair smelled of vanilla and gardenias, my skin still warm from the bath I'd indulged in a little while ago. Today was meant to be peaceful, but this ache was in my breast. As if something was waking up, something was moving. and I wasn't prepared."Ma'am," one of my guards knocked on the door, entering. "Miss G
Giselle's POVI couldn't breathe.Not because my practice corset was too tight—though it was stuck to me like a vice—because the dressing room walls kept closing in with every untexted moment, every unspoken one, every time I blinked and Patrick's face flashed before me in the darkness.He was there for me.I knew the moment he walked into the lobby. My father had eyes and ears everywhere, but even if he hadn't, I would have known. The air around me shifted. My heart shifted. My phone was in off mode when Becky called me, crying, accusingly, bewildered. I did not need the explanations. Not yet. My world had swerved too far from its axis. I had wished for silence to put it on a straight axis once more.But silence was treacherous. It betrayed things into me I did not want to know."Giselle," my assistant Sarah had called at the door. "Five minutes before last rehearsal. Ready?" "Coming," I had replied, rising from the velvet couch and regarding myself in the mirror.The woman in th
Patrick's POVI couldn't sleep.I reclined on the hotel bed looking up at the ceiling fan, its soft whirring mingling with the hum in my head. I was in Miami but felt more distant from all I ever knew. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast shadows with dance motions on the wall. My phone was silent, face down on the nightstand.Giselle had yet to call me back.I rolled over on my side, pulling the comforter up over my chest like it could shield me from the shame crawling all over my body. Why wasn't she answering? Why wasn't her number still open? Dozens of questions ran through my mind—had something happened to her? Or was she just. done with me?Becky's face remembered, scowling in anger when she pilfered my phone from off my person earlier. How she crumpled. The terror in the shriek she let out. The crying, the trembling of her hands laid over her belly. And I? I had taken a step back. Like a coward.I groaned and sat up straight, running my hand through my hair. I needed some air
I woke up to the soothing whizz of sea waves on the windowpane, sea wind seeping through the almost-closed curtains. My body felt heavy, as if stuck with a sticky of laziness for days. I rolled over and threw my arm over to the bedside table where my phone rested. Missed calls and unread messages streamed before me.Patrick had been phoning me again.I cursed, sitting up and rubbing sleep from my eyes. I'd been staying away from him, not that I wasn't, but because my brain was in turmoil. My heart was a battleground, past and present, duty and desire.A knocking on the door to break me out of my trance."Come in," I roared, throwing the bed back.Nicholas came in, quieter than normal. "You did not call last night. I was frightened."I fabricated a small smile, attempting to bleed some of the tension from the moment. "I was tired. The party wore me out more than I anticipated."He crossed his arms, his eyes pinning me as he nailed me with them. "Or you were avoiding Patrick?"I winced
I awoke to the quiet thrum of the air conditioner, cold blankets drawn high around me as if wrapping me in some kind of protection. Body had recovered and caught its breath, but mind was assailed with memories, questions, and theinine whine that somethings still hung over in the distance, threatening to unravel.I yawned, my whole body hurting from the strain of the last two days, and stretched out to grab my phone. No call from Patrick. That was not expected. Half of me had been expecting him to call a hundred times at least, but nothing. Perhaps he finally gave up. Or perhaps something else was preoccupying him.A gentle knock on my door brought me back to reality."Come on in," I said, shoulders propped against the headboard.Nicholas slid open the door and grinned, impossibly so, after all these years we'd spent living in secret. He placed a tray of breakfast on the nightstand and sat at the foot of my bed."How's it going?" he asked, never once looking away from mine."Good," I a
Giselle's POVThe city sounds outside my hotel room window hummed like a distant lullaby as I shivered on the chaise lounge, staring at my phone. The screen was white, no call, no message. Patrick had called no one, nor did I call him. Half of me wanted to know where we were, but the other half didn't care.I breathed deeply and placed the phone on my side. Miss World was the following day, and I still had some of those last-minute things to sort out. However, my mind was preoccupied by a maelstrom of endless questions—Patrick, Victor, something somewhere in the background.As I was about to hoist myself up, there was a soft knock on the door of my suite. My throat was parched. Was it security? Had something occurred? I walked on my feet, clutching around me the silk robe that I had wrapped around my naked body, and crept up to the door."Who is it?" I asked."It's Nicholas," my brother's reassuringly familiar voice said over the telephone. I swung open the door at once and flung it w