Chapter 1

The day before my wedding, my fiancé died unexpectedly. Before he passed, he entrusted me to his one and only true friend, Bentley Daniel.

He was there for me through the darkest times, never leaving my side for six whole years.

But after one drunken night, we ended up spending a wild night together.

When I finally worked up the courage to confess everything to Bentley, I caught him and his secretary in a heated embrace right there in his office.

And on her finger sparkled the ruby ring I'd always longed for.

The very same ring Bentley had fought for at an auction just two weeks ago, just for me.

Panic shot through me as I tried to turn and escape, but Bentley stopped me in my tracks.

His expression was icy as he said in a low voice, "Angela, know your place. Don't come into my office uninvited again."

My heart went cold, and I turned stiffly to walk out the door.

Not a single ray of light made it into the living room, and the dimness actually let me relax a little.

I snuggled into the couch and dialed Arnav's number. "Arnav, about your suggestion that I go abroad to study music. I've decided I'll head out in a few days."

Arnav Finley sounded genuinely happy, but he couldn't help asking, "Are you sure you're okay with leaving the company behind?"

I pulled the blanket tighter around myself and murmured, "There's someone who can take care of everything now; they don't need me anymore."

I found myself zoning out, lost in my own thoughts.

When Emory Bryant died, the only thing he was truly worried about was me.

I was an orphan, and Bentley was the only one who ever looked out for me. He was the one light in my life and the reason I managed to survive.

After that wild night, I woke up before him. I studied his sleeping face for a moment, my heart pounding, then fled in a panic.

That unexpected shift in our feelings caught me so off guard. I had to get away, take a trip to clear my head and try to sort out this tangled mess between us.

But Bentley, just like always, asked where I'd been, as if nothing had happened.

Turns out, it wasn't that he'd come to terms with it. He'd just forgotten.

He already had someone he cared about, and I was just this ambiguous presence in his life. I couldn't intrude on his world anymore.

After hanging up with Arnav, I called Bentley.

He picked up right away. "Angela, what's up?"

I wanted to finally talk to him about that night, to bring closure to what we'd shared over these years.

But before I could say anything, a woman's voice cut in. "Bentley, why is Angela calling you so late? Doesn't she know any boundaries? Is she into you or something?"

Azalea didn't bother to hide her hostility.

Bentley's voice went cold. "Angela, don't call me so late anymore. People could get the wrong impression. I'm going to hang up now."

Bentley had never spoken to me like that before. By the time I realized what had happened, the call had already been disconnected for a while.

I glanced at the clock. It wasn't even nine o'clock yet.

Hardly what anyone would call late.

Back then, no matter how late it was, even at three or four in the morning, Bentley would answer in seconds, always asking if I was okay.

Now, he just thinks I'm bothering him whenever I call.

I let out a bitter laugh and pulled the blanket even tighter around myself.

Maybe I was just too exhausted. The howling wind and snow pelting the window couldn't even pull me out of my dreams.

It wasn't until the window shattered that I, still half-asleep, found myself in a cold yet strangely warm embrace.

"Bentley, what's wrong?" I mumbled, still groggy.

He was stiff as a board, his hand brushing my cheek in the darkness. Once he was sure I wasn't crying, he finally snapped, "Angela, it's a blizzard out there! You didn't answer your phone or reply to my messages. Do you want to drive me crazy?"

Only then did I notice the wind and snow raging outside my place.

The fear crept up on me, and I clung to Bentley's hand, my voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't hear anything."

Emory died on a night like this, lost to the storm.

So whenever a blizzard hit, I'd be too scared to sleep. Bentley would always hold my hand, helping me get through every single one of those heart-pounding nights, for six years straight.

He'd softly whisper, again and again, that I'd be okay.

Bentley looked pale, like something was really weighing on him.

He stared at me for a while before finally saying, "Come stay at my place tonight."

I pushed him away and shook my head.

"You've already got someone you like. It wouldn't be appropriate for me to stay over anymore," I said.

Even after six years, the fact that he still cared made my frozen heart thaw just a little. But the moment I spotted that lipstick stain on his collar, it felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over me.

Bentley's face hardened, his voice strict. "Angela, don't start backsliding now."