I arrived at the office, my kind still trying to process everything that had happened that morning. The bustling energy of the workplace felt jarring after the unexpected warmth of breakfast and the heavy conversation I had with Greece. It was bound to happen sooner or later, I just hoped to God that it would change something between us. As I settled into my chair, I found myself unable to shake the lingering feelings of guilt and confusion that had taken root during the drive. Amelia's chilly response to my apology kept replaying in my head, a continuous loop of disappointment and barely concealed hurt. Why did it bother me so much? She had every right to be upset, and yet... the thought of her disappointment weighed on me more than I cared to admit. The harder I thought about it, the more I felt like an asshole. Seeing those green eyes gaze at me with such chill, far from what I was used to. Even after her amnesia, she never gave such a look. I could still hear the mea
The door opened, and there she was. Bertha Grayson, as beautiful as ever. Her blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders in perfect waves, catching the light from the window. Her blue eyes twinkled with an unexpected warmth, a far cry from the tears or anger I'd been expecting. She moved with a grace that had always captivated me, closing the door behind her with a soft click. "Roman," she said, her voice low and intimate. She glanced around, making sure we were alone, before approaching my desk with a sway in her hips that she knew I couldn't resist. Before I could stand or speak, she leaned in, planting a soft kiss on my cheek. The familiar scent of her perfume, jasmine, enveloped me. Then, to my surprise, she brushed her lips against mine in a tender kiss. It was gentle, almost hesitant, so unlike her. I found myself responding despite my earlier reservations, a part of me craving the familiar comfort of her touch. When she pulled away, I saw a mix of emotions in her eyes. Lov
AMELIAI stood by the window of my bedroom, gazing out at the manicured gardens of the Wellington estate. The beauty of the landscape did little to ease the turmoil in my mind. These past few weeks had been a whirlwind of confusion and conflicting emotions, leaving me feeling adrift in a sea of uncertainty. My thoughts inevitably drifted to Roman. Our last conversation played on repeat in my head, his words both a comfort and a source of bewilderment. "I want us to be friends, Amelia," he had said, his blue eyes intense and unreadable. And sure, those were originally mt words, something I had genuinely wished for but Roman…he is a complicated man. He had apologized, like he meant it. Said words that left me tongue-tied. But I couldn't bring myself to believe him. He will never like, nor will he trust me. Last night made that very clear. He is in love with Bertha and whatever she tells him is what he will believe. Why do I even try? Why can't I bring myself to leave him.
I went through the schedule Roman had given me quite a few times, trying to commit to memory or, in this case, mentally preparing myself for the days I would have to spend by his side.It was easy to converse with him when either Trenton or Greece was present, I could pretend for a few minutes that he was not the same man who saw me as a loose woman without morals. Part of the reason why I kept my recent visits to Vincent a secret, though I knew deep down that there was no need to.Why didn't I want to face him?What was truly scaring me?I honestly had no answer to those questions, all I knew was that it was becoming increasingly to ignore him.It has only been three days since the opening of the department store and what I thought would be a good opportunity to get closer to the man became a disaster. Especially now, when he is always in a bad mood and locked up in his study.I didn't want to notice, but I did.He hasn't left his study except to eat and sometimes, he rejects his food
“Did you need something?” I found myself tongue tied as I watched the man, his hair was still wry from his shower. His shirt slightly soaked, clung to his muscular body like skin and black sweatpants that hing low on his waist. I could see his biceps bulging from the slightest movements and as much as I'd hate to admit it, my throat went dry and I found my eyes lingering longer than it should have been. “Amelia?” “Huh?” I blinked myself back to reality, dragging my eyes from the outline of his pecks and meeting his blue eyes. “I…um, no,” I shook my head, then remembered the reason for coming in and then nodded like a lizard who was rather confused. His brows furrowed, but he didn't say a word. Instead he waited silently for me to continue and I could help but notice that he had a different feel about him, from his stance, to the tick in his jaw that signified impatience. Was something wrong? His eyes looked alert but the dark circles beneath then were obvious,
King's Restaurant has been around for years, I knew that because my mother used to take me when I was younger. Back then it wasn't for only people who had fat wallets, it was called King's diner and they had the best burgers. Not now though. In the past five years they seemed to have trademarked and expanded, turning it into a five-star restaurant. It was beautiful, but still in the same spot, just bigger and more luxurious. Talk about losing yourself after fame and riches. They didn't even have the side swing they used to. Roman and I stepped down from the car and he had gone back to being his cold self with a confusing emotion in his eyes. I pretended not to notice, rather trying to compose myself enough to face the coming meeting. The server at the entrance stopped us before we could go any further, asking us if we had any reservations. The man was rude, holding out his hand and sneering at us like we were enemies. “No reservations, no entry,” The ma
I watched as the older couple approached our table, their eyes lighting up with recognition as they spotted us. The man, Mr. Kevin, was tall and distinguished-looking, with salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His wife, to my surprise, was dressed casually in dark blue jeans and a simple white t-shirt, her face warm and friendly, she loooked to be in her late thirties, I had an idea I was way off. There was an obvious age-gap between she and her husband. Unlike the other people in Roman's life I've met, she was a breath of fresh air. As they reached us, I stood up, offering them a welcoming smile. "Mr. and Mrs. Kevin, it's wonderful to meet you both," I said, extending my hand. Mr. Kevin took my hand, his grip firm and a slow stiff smile stretched his lips. "Mrs. Wellington, it's an honor to finally meet you," he said, his voice deep and polite. "Please, allow me to introduce my wife, Sarah," He gestured to his wife. Her beautiful brown eyes met mine and her smil
She was fucking everywhere, almost like anytime a semblance of something seemed to bloom between Roman and I, she would always be there to interrupt it, to make him go so stiff beside me that I would suspect he's having a stroke. His arms immediately left my body, like a child caught holding on to a stolen toy and unlike the many times when he'd done it to me, this time it stung, bad. I didn't move away, I didn't give them the space to speak as I usually would, instead I stood there with a married gaze, waiting as Bertha approached us. She stopped when she was only a few steps away, her prefect hair fell down to her shoulders in silky waves, her pink lips were pursed into what seemed to be either a smile or a sneer. Still, I stood. “Hi,” She said, giving an awkward wave. One which Roman didn't return. “Bertha,” He called out instead, his voice thick with emotion and quite frankly, it hurt to stand there, I wasn't sure why. It was definitely that part of me that