The billionaire's undying love for me.

andkerchief as if

th tiny dark initials stitched in the co

voice scratchy from crying

sing

a pa

e looked at me the way he looked at everything, like

ay he had sat at the head of the conference table, flipped through my campaign proposal for Blackwood Haven, the group's new line o

ome and stab

id, lifting my c

e not

hat I don't need m

too quick to name. His hand stayed

melled of cedarwood, clean and warm, and it was annoyingly

," Adrian

o you

glanced away.

ying," I

you always insult peopl

ow up uninvited a

f drifted down between us. Somewhere behind the t

sharp cheekbones. Most of all, I hated that even in my worst moment m

just got cheated on,

ate the handkerchief. I'll have it washed and returned to y

bout you is..

ed. "Is

his hands into his coat pockets. "You're t

old man, and

man with the newspaper

witch. Then it vanished as if it had never e

ll

inting down the path in sneakers and her work uniform, her curly

l end him! I will..." She skidded to a stop t

the handkerchief in my hand, up to

d. "Oh, no. You're

," I h

ite the whole proposal three times and said your

es

lower her voice. "I'm ju

Adrian only looked at her, calm as s

d. "That's why I'm here. Di

t gave me a h

ould do. Make you trust

ight here," Adr

d Tessa. "I'm

day had started with a cupcake and was ending

said to me, ignoring Tessa complet

N

gettin

ay, Mr. Blackwood. I kn

la.

he assistant from marketing. Just Ella, low and quie

id a strange

ed, softer this time.

kind of eyes that gave nothing away, dark as wet slate, and yet I felt,

en at least go home and eat

do you know I

lly blank. "You look like

n insult I've

turned toward the path.

formal again. The wal

before she grabbed my shoulders and s

n't k

roup ⁷standing behind your benc

t know,

the handkerchief in my hand and widened her ey

urned into tears again. Tessa wrapped her arms around me, iced

ely into my hair. "I promise. And that bo

want to

're goin

ard it: a faint, expensive click of a

n the open door. He wasn't getting in. He was just watching me leave, and for one second his gu

ed like

r, too far away for me to hear, and

nfused and exhausted, an

lay on the path near the benc

bag, slightly crushed

pcake

cross the street, almost half a block a

had picked it up, carried it here, and placed it carefully beside my ben

with shaki

tter than chocol

shoulder. "Ella...

ote, cold prickli

," I whispered.