Chapter 1

Bang!

When I kicked open the door to the café's private room, the man sitting stiffly inside was so startled that his hand shook, spilling most of his coffee.

He looked up, and I saw that annoyingly handsome face I couldn't stand.

It was him. Even if he was nothing but dust, I'd still recognize him.

Ryan Jensen, Jonathan Arnold's top henchman.

Back when Jonathan and I broke up, it was Ryan egging him on, saying I wasn't good enough for Jonathan's family, telling him to ditch me and chase after that rich heiress who could save him twenty years of struggle.

And Jonathan, that spineless idiot, actually went along with it.

The day we broke up, I was crying my eyes out, and Ryan just stood behind Jonathan, looking at me like I was garbage, with that faint, mocking smile on his lips.

That scene was like a venomous thorn lodged in my heart for three whole years.

Seriously? My mom dragged me to this matchmaking setup, and the guy I was supposed to meet was him?

"Hailey?" Ryan looked at me, his brows knitting together as if he was struggling to recall my name.

I sneered, strode over to the table, grabbed the coffee in front of him, and poured it right over his head.

The warm liquid trickled down his meticulously styled black hair, dripped across his shocked face, and the brown stain quickly spread over his pricey white shirt.

"Are you crazy?" Ryan finally snapped, gritting the words out between his teeth.

*****

"Yeah, I must be crazy to have wasted seven years of my life on a loser like Jonathan." I slammed the cup down on the table, pointed right at Ryan's nose.

I snapped, "Go tell Jonathan I'm not some pathetic girl who can't live without him. And you, Ryan, you're the worst kind of enabler. You make me sick."

Still not satisfied, I grabbed the full glass of red wine from the table and drenched him without hesitation.

The deep red wine dripped all over his face and expensive suit, making him look utterly pathetic.

All eyes in the café were on us; the staff looked ready to intervene, but nobody dared.

I looked at his face, so dark it could rain, and felt a surge of vindictive satisfaction.

"Now we're even," I said, turning to leave.

"Stop right there," a voice called out from behind.

The voice was deep and calm, but had a commanding edge that made it impossible to ignore.

I froze in my tracks.

Wait, that was not Ryan.

Ryan's voice was always a bit shrill, with that fake, sycophantic tone. But this voice was deep and magnetic, like the lowest note of a cello, with a commanding presence that made everyone else fade into the background.

I turned around stiffly, every movement rigid.

Somehow, the man was already on his feet. He looked taller and more imposing than Ryan ever did, his posture straight and confident.

He calmly unbuttoned the top of his shirt, pulled out a handkerchief, and methodically wiped the wine from his face.

His movements were slow and elegant, turning what should have been a humiliating mess into something strangely dignified.

Under the lights, I finally saw his features clearly.

He looked a lot like Ryan, but up close, he was on a whole different level. His brow was higher, his nose sharper, and his jawline was razor-sharp. And those eyes, cold and deep, were locked onto me with an amused, appraising look.

This wasn't Ryan.

My heart skipped a beat as a chilling thought crept in.

Did I get the wrong guy?

"Who are you?" I blurted out, my voice trembling before I even realized it.

The man paused, tossed the handkerchief, now stained with wine and coffee, onto the table, then he quietly said, "Makenzie Perez."

It hit me like a bomb.

My mind went completely blank.

That name was legendary. I'd heard it thunder through the business world more times than I could count.

Makenzie was the ruthless heir to the Perez family, infamous for his iron-fisted tactics.

Word on the street was, in just three years, he'd made the Perez Group's value explode tenfold, and his methods were so savage that even the most seasoned sharks in the industry shuddered at his name.

And I just poured wine and coffee all over the head of the devil himself?

I was doomed.

Staring at his expressionless face, I could already picture myself getting wrapped up and tossed into the river.

"Uh... Mr. Perez..." I stammered, desperate to salvage the situation. "I'm really sorry, I mistook you for someone else. I thought you were my ex's friend... Please, let me pay for your clothes, double, no, ten times."