I’m barely holding back my anger and frustration. It’s incredibly cynical of him to say I was unfair when he’s the one who stabbed me in the back.
“I’m running late. Step aside,” I say, ignoring his earlier words.
“Rocío, we need to talk.”
I let out a bitter smile.
“There’s nothing left to say between us.”
He tries to take my hand, but I pull away.
“I looked for you desperately, but you vanished from my life. So many times, I wondered if you were just a perfect dream.”
I scoff. The jerk still has a silver tongue. Those sweet words once charmed the naive girl I was, but I’ll never fall for them again.
“Yes, it was a fleeting, bitter dream I’ve already woken up from. Now go—your fiancée is waiting for you,” I reply coldly, though inside I’m breaking.
“I’ve missed you so much. Please, give me a chance to talk. I know if you hear me out, you’ll understand I never meant to hurt you,” he insists.
“And when would that be? Before or after announcing your engagement? Oh, I get it—will you ask me to be your mistress?” I ask sarcastically.
“I still love you,” he says, reaching for me again, but I step back.
How many nights did I cry, feeling like I was being torn apart inside, like I was suffocating, wishing it was all a nightmare? I longed to hear him confess his love, to say it had all been a mistake. But out of pride and dignity, I walked away. Maybe I haven’t fully moved on, but I’ll never become the person I despise most.
“I don’t care about anything that comes from you,” I say firmly. “I stopped feeling anything for you a long time ago. Now go—your future wife and the mother of your child are waiting.”
“If you ask me to, I’ll cancel the engagement right now,” he persists. “I know you still love me.”
I scoff and shake my head.
“Stop wasting my time,” I say, brushing him off.
I sidestep him, and as I’m about to open the car door, I catch a pair of gray eyes watching us. In the daylight, I can better appreciate his enigmatic beauty. Thiago Russo gives me a look—there’s no emotion in it, just a cold, empty stare that adds to his mysterious aura.
Ivan follows my gaze and clenches his jaw before turning back to me.
“Never forget, Rocío, that you’re mine,” he says in a warning tone, and I let out a laugh.
“Ivan, what are you doing out here, love?” It’s Samantha, coming to find her fiancé.
I cross my arms and look at Ivan.
“Answer your girlfriend,” I say in a challenging tone.
“We’re not done talking,” he warns me before heading toward my sister, who now glares at me with murderous intent.
I take a deep breath. I won’t let this get to me again.
I glance up to look for Thiago, but he’s nowhere to be seen. That man is so strange, yet undeniably handsome.
I climb into my car, and seconds later, I’m driving away from that hellish house.
I drive for over two hours until I reach work. On weekends, I take the night shift since it pays double. All this time, I’ve kept a low profile to stay off Ivan Russo’s radar. He and Samantha went to college in another state, while I chose to stay and study at a local university. Still, I moved out of the city to a small, quaint town where almost everyone knows each other. I’m certain he won’t find me here.
“Put on your apron and take table five,” my friend and coworker Carla asks. “Sorry, I know you just got here and your shift doesn’t start for another half hour, but we’re swamped.”
“No worries,” I say as I tie my hair back. “That’s what I’m here for.”
She gives me a half-smile before disappearing. Carla is also my roommate and a wonderful person, but even she doesn’t know which family I come from. There’s no need to mention people who don’t care about me.
“Rocío, my darling, I only come to this place for you,” says Olfrand, a local guy who acts tough but is really just a troublemaker. “When are you gonna say yes to me?”
This day just keeps getting worse. Dealing with this idiot always gives me a headache. The worst part is I have to play nice because, to top it all off, he’s the son of the landlord of the building we rent.
“I’m not worthy of your attention. There are so many pretty girls in town who’d be thrilled to be your girlfriend.”
He puffs out his chest and grins at his friends, looking like a strutting turkey.
“But it’s you I want.” He grabs my hand, and I try to pull away, but he’s holding on tight. “You’d be smart not to reject me, or you’ll regret it.”
I force a smile and use all my strength to free myself from his grip.
“I’m not scared of you.”
“Aren’t you? Why? You’ve got no one to protect you.”
“You’re wrong,” I lie. “My boyfriend is a dangerous man, the kind who’d make you wet your pants with just a look. His gray eyes alone could freeze you to the bone. He’s built, tall, and could knock you out with one punch.”
I see him swallow nervously, and I flash a wide grin. He bought my lie. I turn around—and bump right into the very man I just described. Thiago Russo stares at me intently, and I feel like I can’t breathe.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you were Rocío’s boyfriend,” Olfrand apologizes, and I wish the ground would swallow me whole.
I give Thiago a nervous smile, but he doesn’t react. Does this man have no emotions?
“Find me a table,” he says in an authoritative tone, ignoring what just happened.
“Right away,” I reply, seizing the chance to escape this embarrassing situation.
“Did he hear everything I said?” I wonder, glancing over my shoulder as I wipe down an empty table. “Who am I kidding? Of course he did. How mortifying!”
He walks over to where I am.
“Please, take a seat. Can I get you something to drink while you look at the menu?” I ask politely.
“A whiskey on the rocks,” he orders.
I bite my lip.
“We don’t have that,” I say, earning a cold stare from him.
“Bring me whatever, then.”
“I’m not sure if you heard anything earlier,” I say nervously. “I apologize.”
He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t respond.
“Handsome as he is, this man is seriously ice-cold,” I think as I turn to head to the kitchen before I embarrass myself further.
“Take table nine,” I ask one of my coworkers since Carla just finished her shift and has probably left. “I need to use the restroom.”
I hurry off and splash cold water on my face. I look at my honey-colored eyes in the mirror and let out a sigh. I have dark circles under my eyes, and I look like a mess.
Since when have I cared about that? I splash more cold water on my face and dry off.
I rush back out since it’s peak hours and there’s a ton of work. As I do, I glance at table nine and notice he’s no longer there.
“What a strange man. What was he even doing here?” I wonder to myself. “What if he tells Ivan where I am? Did Ivan send him? I doubt it. He doesn’t seem like the type to run errands like that. In fact, it almost seemed like they don’t get along…”
It’s past 1 a.m. when I finally leave work. I’m so exhausted I ache all over. I try to start my car, but of course, it won’t turn over. I think the battery’s dead. I look around—everything is quiet. I’m tired and cold, and it seems luck isn’t on my side. So, I decide to walk. My place is only a couple of blocks away. I start down the lonely, cobblestone streets, the only sound the howling of stray dogs.
“Why you all alone, pretty lady?” I hear someone call out.
I turn quickly and see two drunk men. My heart races, and I start walking faster.
“Come here, let’s have some fun,” one of them says as they start following me.
I’m no longer walking—I’m running, but the men are still behind me. My pulse is pounding, my throat feels dry, and these heels aren’t helping. In moments like this, I curse the restaurant owner for making us wear high heels to work, but desperation forces you to accept stupid rules.
Suddenly, my foot twists, and I fall to the ground. Despite the pain, I get up quickly, but I’ve hurt my ankle. I look back—the two men are close. I pull out my phone, intending to call the police. I hadn’t thought of it earlier in my panic.
“Do you enjoy putting yourself in danger, or are you just that careless?”
I look up, and those gray eyes that somehow take my breath away are staring at me intently.
“Are you following me?” I ask, my breath ragged.
But he doesn’t answer. He just walks a few steps behind me. Seeing him, the men act disoriented and turn back the way they came.
He turns to face me, his posture relaxed.
“I asked you a question,” I insist.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone. You could run into any kind of nutcase in the middle of the night.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” I reply.
Then I turn and start limping away.
“Aren’t you going to ask me to carry you?” he asks, making me stop.
“I don’t know you. To me, you’re a complete stranger—and apparently a lunatic.”
He smiles for the first time. It’s a nice smile.
“Now I see why that idiot can’t get over you,” he says, and I furrow my brow.
He steps closer, and I back away, but as I do, I nearly fall. He catches me and then lifts me into his arms.
“Put me down! I didn’t give you permission to do this,” I protest, and he abruptly lets go, causing me to stumble. I manage to grab onto his shirt. “Why did you drop me?” I snap.
“You told me to,” he says, glancing at my hand. “You’re wrinkling my shirt.”
I stare at him, and he holds my gaze. I look a little lower and realize I’ve torn a couple of buttons, exposing part of his chest, which has a tattoo. It’s surprising that one of the heirs to the country’s most prominent jewelry empire would have ink.
“Why are you here?” I ask again as I let go of him.
“To propose a deal,” he replies.