Chapter 1
When I was studying abroad, I spent three years fawning over a guy who insisted on a platonic relationship.
After he turned down my proposal, I kissed him on a reckless impulse.
I then fled back to my home country and agreed to an engagement with a powerful family heir eight years my senior.
For half a year of our arranged marriage, we were outwardly harmonious and inwardly distant, treating each other with politeness.
That all changed when a piece of news broke at the family dinner.
Shane Beasley sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable. "So Toby finally deigns to come back?"
I sat aside, not daring to make a sound.
How could I have forgotten that Shane also bore the Beasley last name?
Wait. What if Shane, who had never laid a finger on me, also wanted a platonic relationship?
*****
I took another look at Shane's face.
He had a high nose bridge, deep-set features, and a handsome, steady demeanor.
He looked refined and scholarly, but his body was solid and muscular beneath his clothes.
His aura was so imposing and cold that I could barely draw a line between him and Toby.
Toby was an art student.
He was tall and slender, spending most of his days holed up in his art studio, rarely out in the sun.
That left his skin flawless and even-toned, but he had a bright, ready smile that lit up his whole face.
As for Shane?
We had been married for six months, and I had barely seen him crack a smile.
I had never even met his younger brother.
Now that I was really paying attention, there was a definite resemblance between Shane and Toby.
As I stared, Shane suddenly turned his head, and our eyes locked.
His hazel eyes were deep as a still pool.
My heart skipped a beat.
"Not to your taste?" he asked in a low voice.
I lowered my gaze to my plate.
A piece of perfectly cut steak had appeared there while I wasn't looking.
It was just the right size for a single bite.
I murmured, "How come I never knew you had a brother?"
Shane raised an eyebrow, the movement almost imperceptible. "Does it matter?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it again, my thoughts practically shouting inside.
Of course it mattered.
After all, I had sold every last thing in Toby's apartment, right down to his cooker, to get back at him all those years ago.
*****
I had my eye on Toby the moment he set foot on campus. I couldn't resist a handsome guy with a bright smile and those charming canine teeth.
He was always gentle and courteous.
Standing out among a crowd of foreign students, he looked every bit the refined gentleman.
That was the start of my three years of fawning over him.
Toby hated the local Western food, so I taught myself to cook Italian food.
In just a month, I had fed all my roommates so well that they had all put on weight.
I also invited every other girl who was pursuing Toby back to my apartment.
I won them all over with my cooking, and they all backed off.
That left me as the only one left standing.
We went to class, ate meals, and talked together every day for three years.
But there were no hugs, no kisses, let alone anything more intimate.
Honestly, Toby probably spent more time with his paintbrush than he ever did with me.
He told me he was all about platonic love and said I should look it up.
I actually took the time to understand it, and after a while, it finally clicked for me.
I thought I had won him over.
I thought no one understood him better than I did.
I thought no one was more suited to spend the rest of their life with him.
So at prom, I asked him to marry me.
But Toby shot me down, his voice icy and harsh.
His eyes were red and watery when he rejected me, looking like a frightened rabbit.
I couldn't hold back, so I kissed him.
He ran off in a panic.
He didn't even come back to his apartment that night.
What followed was a string of cold, final moves.
He deleted, blocked, and muted me on every platform.
He ranted about me all over social media.
Toby didn't spare me a single shred of dignity.
Word spread like wildfire through the small expat circle, and everyone knew how humiliated I was.
Someone said, "She's so shameless."
Another echoed, "Yeah, she even forced a kiss on him."
A third chimed in, "Well, she pined after him for three years and got nothing. I guess she's just pathetic."
I was pathetic, really.
I had gotten nothing out of those three years, just stuck playing the part of his personal maid.
But that pathetic maid had the passcode to his apartment.
Everything from his luxury designer car down to his underwear, slippers, and cooker.
I sold it all. Every last thing, for next to nothing.
The day after I had stripped his apartment bare, I bought a plane ticket and flew home.
Then I agreed to the arranged marriage my parents had set up for me long before.
My friends told me that Toby lost his mind after I left.
He started searching for me relentlessly.
He even recorded a video, begging people to help him find me.
In the video, his face was ashen and haunted, his eyes burning with fury.
Toby bit out each word through gritted teeth.
"Lena Evans, you'd better never let me find you. If I do, I'll make you pay," he said.
*****
"Are you feeling off tonight, Katelyn?" Shane asked.
I snapped back to reality when I heard my name.
To play it safe, I had used a fake name and identity for everything except my school enrollment when I studied abroad.
Maybe I could deny everything if Toby saw me?
Who would believe that the heiress of the Perkins family had spent three years fawning over a guy overseas?
Even my enemies would probably feel sorry for me if they saw me like this.
Maybe I should file for divorce and get out of the Beasley family before everything blows up in my face?
Shane was far more dangerous than Toby.
My mind was racing, and I only just realized the party had ended long ago.
We had seen off all the guests, and the night wind had started to turn cold.
A cashmere shawl was suddenly draped over my shoulders. I turned around and smiled. "Thanks."
Shane slowly pulled his hand back.
He stood behind me, keeping a distance that was intimate yet carefully restrained.
It was close enough to look like a loving couple to anyone watching, but not close enough for anything more than a faint trace of his warmth to reach me from behind.
When I kept quiet, Shane, ever patient, said, "You didn't really eat much asparagus."
My heart skipped a beat at that.
Whenever there was asparagus on the table, I always helped myself to extra.
It seemed that thoughtful people like Shane never miss a thing, no matter where they were.
Shane had taken over the family business when he was just eighteen.
He had a sharp mind for business and ruthless tactics to match.
In less than five years, he had built the family's holdings into a full-blown business empire.
Yet he was especially mysterious and kept a low profile.
He had achieved all of that before he turned thirty.
People whispered about him, spinning all kinds of wild, almost mythical stories about who he really was.
And I was too cowardly to do anything to upset him.
"Platonic love's actually pretty nice." The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them.
It was the first time I had ever seen a look of utter confusion on Shane's face.
It was gone in a flash, but I had seen it.
I turned to face him, my gaze sincere, trying to play nice.
"Honestly, I'm totally okay with getting a divorce," I said.