Chapter 1

Arabella's POV

As I waited, feeling the glass of wine warm in my hand, I dialled Alistair's number for the hundredth time. It was meant to be the ideal evening. It was our special night—my birthday. A party. But there I was, by myself in the dark hotel room, my heart pounding with frustration. By now, he ought to have arrived. He understood how important the occasion was to me. Even though we had been planning the event for weeks, my doubts grew stronger the longer the silence went on.

Perhaps something arose. He might have been busy. I argued with myself. The sinking sensation in my stomach, however, persisted. With trembling fingers, I reached for my purse and threw my phone inside. He couldn't have forgotten.

The cool night air rushed over me as I called for a cab outside the hotel, stinging my bare skin. I should have felt refreshed, but instead I was overcome with a persistent sense of unease. I took the tiny velvet box out of my pocket. I flicked it open and felt my heartbeat quicken. It was so lovely to see the diamond inside sparkle in the car's interior light. It was flawless. Before it wasn't, everything was ideal.

I had been preparing to pop the question to Alistair for months. Was it premature? Is it too soon to commit? My mind briefly entertained the idea, but it seemed inappropriate. After years of dating, this seemed like the logical next step. He was my true love.

The driver snapped me out of my reverie. "We're present."

I hardly heard him as I nodded. The cool breeze hit me as soon as I got out of the car, but I ignored it and hurried inside the building, concentrating only on seeing him, hearing his laugh, and feeling his arms around me. Since Robert's office was on the top floor, I made a beeline for the lift. My anticipation only increased with each second I waited.

The doors slid open as the lift dinged. I looked towards Robert's office as I stepped outside. Something wasn't right, but the hallway was unusually quiet. The dim light came from beneath the door. Too dark.

I felt a chill creep up my back. Every step felt heavier than the last as I made my way down the hall. I reached for the doorknob, my fingers shaking. I heard the smallest sound, like clothes rustling. It was odd— a bit too odd to be comfortable. I turned the knob and pushed the door open, my heart thudding painfully against my ribcage.

What I saw inside froze me in place.

Alistair was standing there—in the centre of the room. Totally nude. So was my best friend, Imogen.

Everything appeared to blur for a moment. I was unable to move, breathe, or think. The surrounding air became oppressively heavy. They hurried to hide, but it was too late. There was already too much exposed.

"Arabella". Alistair's voice was ragged and desperate as he reached for his shirt, despite the damage already done.

I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. The world seemed to be spinning around me, and I felt like I was choking. I wanted to shout and scream, but my body wouldn't allow it.

Ever the bitch, Imogen was already on her feet. She made no attempt to conceal herself. As she approached me, she simply tossed her hair over her shoulder while wearing a sly, cunning smile.

With a venomous tone, she purred, "Oh, don't act so surprised, Arabella." "Did you truly believe that Alistair was yours? Did you truly believe that he loved you? I've always been with him. You were merely a toy, a diversion. Don't you understand? You were too blind to realise that Alistair had always belonged to me.

Every word she said struck me like a physical blow, causing me to stumble backward. My thoughts were racing when I stumbled. "When?" The weight of her words suffocated me as she asked the question in a choked whisper.

"When?" Imogen stepped closer, taunting. Her smirk widened, unfazed by her nudity. "Arabella, I've always been the one. It wasn't out of kindness that I got you that position at my father's company. Everything went according to plan. The plan was always in place.

I was struck like a tidal wave by the betrayal, the tears, and the rage. I had nothing to say and no answer. I simply felt empty.

Desperate to get away, I turned, but my legs felt like lead. The distance to the lift was too great. I felt as though the weight of their treachery was drawing me back into the room with each step.

"Wait, Arabella!" I couldn't—wouldn't—turn around when Alistair's voice echoed. I needed to leave. I could no longer stand the sight of him, let alone breathe in that room.

Imogen's voice trailed behind me, but it sounded far away, as if the words had lost all meaning. “Go on, run away. You always do.

The receptionist gave me a pathetic look as I pushed my way through the lobby, but I didn't mind. I was the only one who hadn't anticipated the upheaval that had just shattered my world.

Ignoring my panic attack when I realised I had left my purse in Alistair's office, I threw myself in the first taxi I saw. I was too far gone, but the driver looked at me bewildered. I was unable to concentrate on anything but the terrible pain in my chest because my thoughts were a blur.

I cursed myself for being so foolish and muttered, "Dammit." I had been on the verge of proposing. I had nearly thrown myself at him.

I felt the weight of the ring box in my hand as I took it out once more. The once-beautiful diamond now appeared to be a cruel joke.

Staring at the ring with bitter tears running down my cheeks, I whispered to myself, "Arabella, you're such an idiot."

I had no idea how I got into the bar, but for a brief moment, it felt as though the world had been lifted off my shoulders. Nothing mattered to me anymore. I had to forget.

I didn't notice that the stool at the bar was cold against my legs when I sat down. The pounding in my head drowned out everything else.

"What can I get you?" The bartender's piercing voice broke through my mental fog.

The resentment returned as I turned to face him. "Do you have anything that could kill me?" I spat, my voice rough and raw.

Evidently uncertain of how to handle me, he arched an eyebrow.

A chilly hand touched my shoulder before I could continue. My heart thumping, I tensed instinctively.

My body instantly went into alert mode as I turned to face the man. His eyes seemed to see right through me; they were calculating and cold.

I pulled away from his touch and yelled, "Get away from me," but he remained in place.

His eyes moved slowly and purposefully over me. "Now, now," he muttered, his breath heavy with whisky, "don't be shy. Sweetheart, I can get you anything you desire. Perhaps you can also give me what I desire. What are your thoughts?

Before I could respond, a voice broke the tension and made my skin crawl.

The voice was firm, calm, and slightly menacing. "You heard the lady," it said. "Go now, or I'll break your head next."

When I saw him, I whirled around, my lungs freezing. I found myself unable to look away from the man standing there, despite the fact that he embodied everything I wished to avoid. His imposing and oppressive presence was accentuated by the black leather trousers that clung to his legs. His cold blue eyes met mine, causing a skip in my heartbeat.

He grinned, but it wasn't a warm one. It served as a warning.

"Hello," he said in a velvety voice. "My name is Benedict Ashford."

I felt a mixture of curiosity, fascination, and fear. I was unable to turn away. I sensed that the night was just beginning, and it was far from coming to an end.