Chapter 2

Leaving the apartment I rented, Liam’s hand imprint still fresh on my cheek, I debated what to do and where to go. I would have gone to my best friend… but then again, she was the one he had decided to betray me with.

She was the one willing to hurt me for some di*ck.

I realized I had virtually nowhere to go and no one to turn to, at least in this wretched city.

I hadn’t felt this lonely in years, and the weight of everything that had happened made me drag my feet. As I walked aimlessly, uncaring of the looks I received, the curious ones and the ones full of pity, I contemplated dialing a number I knew by heart.

But then again, I didn't want to be the weak-willed, little spoiled brat who relied on her childhood friend all over again.

My feet led me to a nearby park, where I cried my heart out. I mentally chided myself on my dam*ned choices, on everything I had done and which had led me to this very moment…

My mistakes were numerous, that was for sure, but loving Liam Summers had to be the worst of them to date.

When a shadow fell over me, I was ready to snap, thinking it was the cheater himself, coming for seconds, and I was surprised by the chiseled face my eyes fell on.

The man’s icy blue eyes were not harsh in the least, no hint of mockery in their depths. Instead, they were calm and irreproachably soft.

Countless women often spoke dreamily of his physique… And I ought to say that although virtually immune to his charms, he did look like he had stepped out of a magazine in his black tailored suit.

“Need a hand, princess?” His voice, deep and magnetic, made me relax slightly. The familiarity of it was almost enough to bring me to tears again… yet, I couldn't. I had to be stronger than this.

“Are you here to add insult to injury?” I heaved a sigh, averting my gaze and my face at the same time, and that’s when he caught sight of my red cheek.

“Who did this?” He asked, his voice losing its warmth, and turning icy like his eyes.

“Does it even matter?” My eyes stung with tears all over again, and I wondered why his mere presence made me want to air out all my grievances.

“Let’s go,” he offered me a hand, which I looked at for a couple of seconds before taking it, heart heavy but at peace somewhat.

Bodyguards moved to surround us, and I wasn’t surprised in the least by the ostentatious show… After all, this was Damian Stokes, a man revered in the business world, a man nobody would ever dream of crossing – but also my childhood friend.

The men moved in unison, seemingly ready to shield us from the outside world, and no doubt willing to put their lives on the line for our safety.

To both Liam Summers and Samantha Conners, I was but an orphan who had made her way up the business ladder, from a mere trainee to an executive administrative assistant.

To Damian Stokes, however, I was the sole heiress of Cross Industries, the wild and frivolous childhood friend who refused to become his bride 3 years ago, fleeing New York in the process.

The business magnet didn't hesitate to open the car door for me, and I slid into the sleek Rolls-Royce easily, as if I had never stepped out of this world of luxury.

“Care for some hot cocoa?” Damian’s voice was decadently sweet once more, and his offer was beyond tempting.

And let’s just say that I wasn't strong enough to refuse it. I nodded wordlessly, even as I looked out the window.

Damian knew me too well.

By the time the car came to a halt, the storm raging within me had dulled into a buzz.

There was no telling what Damian had in mind. Childhood friend or not, I could never read him well. Hell, I was usually too oblivious to read people or even the room – that had always been his thing.

Because of him always being by my side for years, I had been allowed to lead an easy life and be the creative rebel I wanted to be.

Yet, when the arranged marriage proposal came, all I could think of were the numerous models who never hesitated to throw themselves at him, the many women he had already conquered, and whose broken hearts he left behind him.

I was nothing like those models. I was nothing like the sophisticated women he usually went for… and that meant only one thing: he, too, wasn’t thrilled by this arranged marriage.

And yet, he was here, ready to sweep me off my feet and take me away, willing to protect and cherish me, as his childhood friend, as if nothing had happened, as if the past 3 years hadn't happened.

Stepping into the hotel’s penthouse, a sweet and delicious smell made its way to my nostrils. I licked my lips in anticipation, and was soon greeted by none other than Luke, Damian’s personal chef.

“Oh how good it is to see you, Miss Cross!” Was his cheerful greeting. “I’ve prepared your favorite hot cocoa. It's steaming still, so I'd advise you to pace yourself.”

“Thank you, Luke.”

My answer came out strangled, as if I was choking on the words… when truly, I was choking on the man’s kindness.

“How come you’re here?” I asked Damian after a beat, raising an eyebrow at him as I did so.

“I just happened to be around…” he let out matter-of-factly, only I believed no word coming out of that mouth of his.

“And the truth?” I smirked a little, happy I managed to catch him off guard, if his smile was any indication.

“Old Mr Cross told me to keep an eye on you,” he shrugged.

I gulped down my dread and nervousness.

Grandpa was a business tycoon and Cross industries had expanded exponentially under his control, and became the empire it was nowadays thanks to the partnership with the Stokes.

Heavens have mercy, why hadn’t Damian married someone already? Surely he wasn't here just because he held a grudge? I truly prayed he wouldn’t make fun of me, of how low I had fallen.

“He was never worthy of you.”

His declaration knocked the breath out of me, and I suddenly felt like a lost little girl. Like someone who had lost everything: the best friend, the fiancé, and even her belongings too.

I inhaled deeply, bracing myself for what he was bound to say before asking him, “Are you making fun of my choices?”

“I would never.”

He sounded sincere, and I could only allow myself to relax ever so slightly.

I might have trusted the wrong people the last few years, but this was my childhood friend, whom grandpa thought highly of, might I add… I was lost in thought when the dots began to connect without any effort on my part.

I thus asked him, my voice full of suspicion, “What did you do?”