Chapter 1

Five years after we broke up, I slept with my ex, Leon Grant. I was the one who broke things off, and I'd even said, "Whoever asks to get back together first is a dog." Look at me now. I'm worse than a dog.

6:11. My body clock yanked me awake, but I was still groggy, too sleepy to open my eyes. I fumbled for my phone and lit up the screen. 6:11. Still early. Then a low, husky chuckle came from beside me. Warm breath brushed the back of my ear, carrying a scent so familiar it was etched into my bones. "It's still early. Sleep a little more." It was Leon. My brain wasn't working yet, so I only gave a vague little hum and drifted right back to sleep.

I was in Westbridge on a business trip yesterday, and a friend had organized the get-together. I was late. After I sat down, I went around greeting everyone one by one until it was his turn—Leon Grant. I hadn't seen him in five years. He paused for only a second, then nodded and smiled it off like nothing had happened. What an act.

I didn't dare look at him the whole night. I only heard him over there, talking and laughing like he always did. Someone asked why he still didn't have a girlfriend, and he just smiled without answering. One of the guys beside him clapped him on the shoulder and joked, "Look at you—anyone can tell you don't have a wife." I lowered my head and took a sip of my drink, nearly choking on it. What a faker.

On my way to the restroom, I kept my head down and walked straight into a wall of a man. That familiar scent wrapped around me at once. I didn't look up. I stepped left, and he stepped left. I stepped right, and he stepped right. "Charlotte," he said, his voice low enough that only the two of us could hear. "You've lost weight."

My nose stung. I slipped past him and hurried off, my hands shaking. I thought that would be the end of our reunion, but when the night wrapped up, one of our friends suddenly said, "Hey, Leo, her hotel isn't far from you. Give her a ride, will you? It's not safe for a woman to head back alone this late." I looked down and realized my glass was far emptier than I'd thought. No wonder my face was burning—I had blamed it on the bonfire. When I looked up, Leon was already watching me. He lifted a brow and agreed.

I wanted to refuse, but the heat surged back into my cheeks. Puffing my cheeks, I patted my burning face, and he caught the whole thing. He gave a quiet snort of laughter, leaned lazily against the car, and spun the keys around his fingers with a crisp little jingle, urging me to get in. I walked over and instinctively reached for the back door. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Front seat." I froze for a beat, then obediently opened the passenger door and got in.

"Where to?"

"Just drop me at the nearest subway stop. I can get back on my own."

"No. I told them I'd take you all the way to the hotel. If I dump you halfway, I'll never hear the end of it."

I nodded like I'd finally figured it out. Men really did care about saving face. "Riverbend Avenue, Springwell Hotel."

"Got it."

I sat ramrod straight the whole ride, staring dead ahead, scared our eyes might meet. "You don't have to be so formal with me. I'm not going to sell you," he said. "If you're tired, lean back and rest. I'll wake you when we get there." Maybe it was the alcohol, but the tension slowly drained out of me. I leaned against the window and drifted off.

A ringtone suddenly went off, and I frowned in my sleep. The instant it started, he hung up with lightning speed, but less than a minute later, the phone rang again. Irritated, I forced open my sore eyes and looked at the hand holding his phone. It honestly felt like he was provoking me on purpose.

I lifted my chin and said, "Your girlfriend? Go ahead and answer it. It's not like there's anything between us."

He said nothing. He pressed his lips together and hung up again. "No. It's my sister."

"Then why aren't you answering? What if something happened?"

"What could happen? It's the same old thing—asking how things are between you and me and whether we've made up yet."