All Chapters of Grooming Our Love: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Elena. I don't know her surname, I don't know anything about her, but she's giving me every threat I could receive—worse than the body shaming, death threats, and all the worst things on the internet. She's like a walking red flag from my point of view, and she could easily throw me off the cliff with the most minimal effort. "Mike," she greeted Michael with a freaking nickname. She was even smiling widely for him, her eyes sparkling at his sight like he’s still hers. I glanced at Michael, and then I saw it in his eyes—the attraction, the astonishment... the love. My heart felt like it dropped its rate to fifty percent from disappointment. "Elena..." he muttered, like they didn’t just meet the other day. Like... I’m not even here. I felt the grip of his hand on my hip loosen. But before he could lose me, I drew myself closer to him. "Baby, who's she?" I asked, snatching him out of the trance where he shouldn’t lose himself. The lump in his throat bobbed up and down before he b

"Sweetie Natty, you brought me all types of haggard on earth! How could you just disappear like that and not give me a single hint where you've been? Do you even know how your mother kept stabbing her eyes on me and asking over and over where you are?" Soda's guttural voice immediately filled my ears as soon as I rang his phone. I followed what Dean told me. Space and time. It had been a week since that disastrous night that left me with nothing but pain and, well… a three-day cold and fever. I cleared my throat and pressed the phone to my ear. "I'm sorry. I just needed peace for a little while. I'll send a message home later and tell them I'm fine." "You better!" he exclaimed. "What the hell happened, huh? And I saw a lot of things on the internet after that night. People turned you into a clown! Have you seen it? I mean, where are you? Your parents almost sent a whole squad just to find you." I closed my eyes and felt the sun frying my skin. One whole week in Santa Monica Bea

"Olga... tone down your voice, please? The neighbors will hear you," Dad calmly asked Mom as he sat on the couch, holding a seven-year-old magazine that featured his name on the cover. Mom let out a frustrated groan as she paced back and forth, like all the problems of the world were weighing her down. The moment I arrived back in the city, Soda was the one who snatched me out from the crowd. But just as we stopped by the porch of my house, I saw Dad’s car parked there, and my unhappy mother practically dragged me by the hair inside to have a “conversation.” "Do you know how my friends laughed at me when the news broke about you having an affair with your ex?" she exclaimed, snatching Soda's fan and using it on herself. "Why would you ruin the life I made for you just because of what? And why did you look like you'd been molested that night? Where have you been?" With a heavy sigh, I massaged the sides of my head, feeling my jetlag kicking in. And my mom's nagging wasn’t helping at

My hands gripped the collar of his shirt, wrinkling it as I answered his kisses—kisses that felt like they would never stop. I felt alive and suffocated all at once. And the longer it went on, the more wrong it felt. His hand held the back of my head, deepening the kiss, while the other slid down my waist, caressing my hip, drawing circles that made me want to cross my legs. But before things could get hotter, the door suddenly swung open. A sharp gasp filled every corner of the office. Michael slowly pulled away, turning toward the noise. The moment he saw who it was, he dropped his hands from me and stepped back. That tiny action stung like hell. I felt it in my chest. I accepted the truth then—he would never see me as more than a contract. I was just the body he wanted when he needed someone. I was only a reminder of her. A patch slapped over the hole in his chest. A convenient placeholder when his inheritance was at risk. Fuck… this was worse than twisting an ankle. When

My head felt like it was breaking in two, the world spinning like I was strapped to a rollercoaster, and I was puking my stomach out into the toilet. "Hah!" I dramatically sighed as I flushed the toilet, then continued my theatrics by collapsing onto the mat Dean had placed for me. He stood by the doorframe, holding a fresh pair of clothes, a towel, and basically everything I’d begged for the moment I woke up. From my comfort man to my butler. What a promotion. He should thank me for all the bothers and whatever problems I paid him. "I'm going to die," I groaned, clutching my stomach and leaning over the bowl again as another wave threatened to crawl up my throat. "'Drink responsibly.' That’s what all alcohol ads say. I think you skipped past that reminder," he said, squatting next to me. He gathered my hair back with a rubber band, fingers brushing my scalp, then patted my back. "I could order more bottles of liquor if you want to keep having 'fun,'" he teased, even doing air q