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The rich aroma of sandalwood mingled with the sharp tang of grapes, saturating the air with an almost suffocating intensity. It was unmistakable–Bradley. His presence preceded him, his signature scent arriving long before I caught sight of him in the lobby.
There he was, leaning casually against his sleek black car, undoubtedly here for another of his so–called “makeup” attempts.
I wrinkled my nose slightly, irritated by his audacity. Did he even realize how ostentatious he was, flaunting his presence so boldly in such a public space?
As my gaze swept the lobby, I noticed an unusual quietness. Gone were Bradley’s usual entourage of bodyguards and fawning
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admirers. Instead, a few of my colleagues hovered nervously in the shadows, stealing glances from behind desks and around corners, their curiosity poorly concealed.
Had he cleared the area for this little performance? The thought crossed my mind as I descended the staircase, my steps deliberate and steady until I came to a stop just short of him.
Crossing my arms, I raised an unimpressed brow. “What’s this about?”
Bradley’s frown deepened slightly, but he said nothing. Instead, he strode toward the passenger side of his car with a precision that spoke of both command and control.
With the smoothness of a seasoned bodyguard, he opened the car door. For a fleeting moment, it was easy to forget who
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he was. His tailored suit, perfectly cut to accentuate his broad shoulders, and the streak of gold running through his jet–black hair–the unmistakable mark of the Martin family–were the only reminders that he was no ordinary man.
“Jeff invited us to his dinner celebration tonight, Bradley said, his tone steady but distant. “He closed a major deal on some new shipments-”
I cut him off with a raised hand, my voice cold. “And?”
His brows knitted into a deeper frown. “Get in the car, Ashley.”
I crossed my arms, letting my defiance show. “Since when did I say I wanted to go with you?”
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“Ashley…” His voice dropped, now carrying a quiet warning.
I wasn’t moved. Turning on my heel, I headed toward my apartment, resolute. Behind me, I could feel his stare, heavy and unyielding.
There was a time–an era I now looked back on with regret–when I would have run back to him. I’d have begged him to get in the car, worried about the scene his mere presence might create. Bradley Martin, with his magnetic charisma and effortless elegance, was the kind of man who drew attention wherever he went. Back then, I would’ve done anything to protect him from the relentless curiosity of the world.
But those days were gone.
Let them have him, I thought. He wasn’t mine anymore, and I didn’t owe him my
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protection.
Beep!
“Ashley!”
I glanced back, my steps faltering for just a moment. Bradley was creeping along in his car, shadowing me as I walked.
I shook my head and kept moving, my voice sharp as I called over my shoulder. “Stop following me, Bradley. It’s over-”
Beep!
“Bradley!” I whirled around, anger radiating through me.
His car screeched to a halt, the sound jarring enough to make me wince. Covering my ears, I felt irritation ripple through my body
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like a wave. When I looked back at him, he was leaning over, reaching to push open the passenger door.
Before I could lash out at him, a shrill voice from the street pierced the air.
“Is that Bradley Martin’s car?!”
My stomach dropped. Panic bubbled up as I realized what was about to happen.
Not now. I was in no mood to deal with his fans.
“Drive!” I hissed, bolting toward the car. Sliding into the passenger seat, I slammed the door shut and locked it. My eyes darted to the swarm of people heading our way, their excitement palpable as they rushed toward the vehicle.
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Where had they all come from?!
“You suddenly want to ride with me now?” Bradley asked, his tone laced with amusement.
I shot him a sharp glare, still brimming with irritation. “Just drive!”
He chuckled softly, shifting the car into gear. We edged away from the growing throng, leaving his admirers scrambling in our wake as we sped off.
As we drove, a cloying sweetness filled the air, thick and inescapable. The unmistakable scent of strawberries hit me like a wave.
Frowning, I glanced around the car, searching for the source. A perfume bottle? An air freshener? But nothing caught my eye. Then, with a sinking feeling, the realization
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struck me–this wasn’t artificial. It was Hallie.
Her scent clung to the car like an uninvited guest, persistent and unnerving. My thoughts churned, wondering what she’d done in here to leave such a strong trace behind.
Suppressing the urge to scoff, I threw a sidelong glance at Bradley. “Well, I didn’t know you had such a fondness for strawberries.”
He gave a noncommittal grunt, his hands steady on the wheel.
That vague response only stoked my irritation. What was that supposed to mean? The ambiguity hung in the air, as oppressive as Hallie’s lingering presence.
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The silence stretched between us after that. Bradley drove us first to his favorite tailor, where I begrudgingly changed into a navy–blue dress he had selected. From there, we headed to Jeff’s private celebration.
When we arrived, we were ushered into a VIP room on the second floor. As the door opened, I immediately spotted Jeff and Hallie seated inside.
Hallie’s expression flickered briefly–surprise, annoyance, maybe both–but she quickly masked it.
“Hey, you two!” Jeff greeted us with his characteristic enthusiasm, waving from his
seat.
Hallie leaned back, her hands folding over her chest as she spoke. “Hello, Ashley, Bradley. What took you so long? Traffic?”
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I met her gaze with a polite smile and shrugged. “It was a last–minute invite, Jeff. Sorry I didn’t bring a gift, but congratulations on your big deal!”
Jeff beamed at the compliment, his energy as infectious as ever. In the world of underground commerce, he was known as a prodigy. Last year, he’d embarked on an ambitious and unconventional deal, assembling a select team and pouring in a staggering budget. His abrupt decision had sparked a flurry of media speculation.
Many predicted his downfall, calling him reckless and overambitious. But Jeff, undeterred by the criticism, pressed forward, silencing his naysayers with his sheer determination.
I’d gotten to know Jeff through Bradley, who
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often brought me along to his meetings with his closest circle: Jeff and Hallie. Those gatherings had also been my introduction to her.
“Don’t worry. Jeff found a gem worth millions -literally. He’s got more than enough gifts, Bradley quipped, his hand lightly guiding me to the table.
“Hey, Jeff retorted, feigning offense as he leaned back with exaggerated flair. “I’d appreciate any gift from a good friend, especially a lovely lady like Ashley here. Unlike some picky mob boss!”
Lies.
My gaze snapped to Jeff, narrowing slightly. The memory of past gifts stung–trinkets I’d chosen with care, only for them to disappear into obscurity. Unlike that gaudy
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gold–framed pair of sunglasses Hallie had given him, which he carried everywhere like a prized treasure. Or that ridiculous, useless bauble Bradley had gifted as a joke, which Jeff brought up in conversation at every opportunity, always with a laugh.
Hallie was no different. She and Jeff both treated my gestures as afterthoughts, their value measured in social media likes rather than sentiment.
And now, I saw it for what it was- my presence here had never been truly accepted. Tolerated, yes. For Bradley’s sake. But accepted? Not once.
A chill settled in my chest. Their carefully veiled indifference now felt like knives in the open. RI
The table soon filled with an array of dishes,
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and the hum of conversation rose. I made the occasional comment but otherwise stayed quiet, focusing on the food and my drink.
Then I saw it.
Bradley, peeling shrimp with a precision that bordered on reverence. His fingers deftly stripped the shells, revealing the soft flesh beneath, which he placed on Hallie’s plate without hesitation.
The sight made me chuckle bitterly to myself.
Bradley had always loathed shrimp. He said peeling them was a waste of time, too tedious for his patience. Yet here he was, catering to Hallie’s tastes without a single complaint.
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The disparity wes/stastarhothekerDat he poured intochenmomoon attoregretsemant scraps: had once receiveeted
Jeff caught it to00.0
With a mischievousmuddasha elemeaded Bradley and gestured towarddenwathakalsly grin. “Look at you, MarMob Boss: 300GIST pile all the prawnsson Halliessptée Gettin’t you see this plate overhareecoudotsessensoene shrimp love too?“”
Bradley froze mid–motion,thethalf–pipetected prawn dangling in his handss Foniacomentant his expression flickeredumneadable vetvet tinged with something faintlyydisconnectidiane
His gaze briefly landed on meetbee shifted toward the heavily guarded entrance of the upscale restaurant, as though calculatinggant escape route.
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Without a word, he set the shrimp down, wiped his hands on the linen napkin with clinical precision, and raised his head.
“Another bottle of the house wine,” he ordered smoothly, his voice as measured and cold as the look in his eyes.
“There’s no need.” I raised a hand, halting the server mid–motion as I reached for my glass of water. The coolness steadied me, quelling the frustration threatening to boil over.
“I’m not in the mood for more drinks.”
Bradley’s brows furrowed slightly, a flicker of irritation breaking through his usually stoic expression. “We can try something else. How about the veal?”
“I said no, I repeated, my tone firm and
A
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unwavering.
His brows knit tighter, his dark eyes locking onto mine with a simmering intensity. “What about the steak? It’s your favorite, Ashley.”
“No,” I snapped, the sharpness of my voice cutting through the air, leaving no room for further debate.
For a moment, Bradley froze, taken aback by my uncharacteristic defiance. The tension between us thickened, a silent storm brewing, heavy with unspoken resentment and frayed patience.
I broke eye contact first, dabbing at my lips with my napkin as though the small gesture could mask the turmoil roiling within me.
Turning to Jeff, I steadied my voice, keeping it level despite the lingering haze of wine
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and the weight of Bradley’s gaze. “Sorry, Jeff, but I need to be at the office early tomorrow. There’s a meeting with a client I can’t miss.”
I pushed back my chair and rose, my movements deliberate as I fought to maintain my composure. My pulse thundered in my ears, betraying the calm facade I desperately clung to.
“Leaving already?” Hallie’s voice sliced through the room, soft yet laced with a subtle edge. “Is this because of me, Ashley? You seem upset.”
Her doe–eyed expression was painted with just the right amount of guilt–too polished, too practiced to be genuine. “Please, don’t be angry, Ashley. We really didn’t mean to upset you.”
The corners of my mouth twitched with
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and the weight of Bradley’s gaze. “Sorry, Jeff, but I need to be at the office early tomorrow. There’s a meeting with a client I can’t miss.”
I pushed back my chair and rose, my movements deliberate as I fought to maintain my composure. My pulse thundered in my ears, betraying the calm facade I desperately clung to.
“Leaving already?” Hallie’s voice sliced through the room, soft yet laced with a subtle edge. “Is this because of me, Ashley? You seem upset.”
Her doe–eyed expression was painted with just the right amount of guilt–too polished, too practiced to be genuine. “Please, don’t be angry, Ashley. We really didn’t mean to upset you.”
The corners of my mouth twitched with
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contempt as I raised an eyebrow. Her words twisted the narrative effortlessly, casting me as unreasonable, the villain in her carefully crafted tale.
“Me? Upset?” I let out a low, humorless laugh, the sarcasm coating my words. “Don’t flatter yourself, Hallie. I just need some sleep.”
I forced a tight smile and slid my chair neatly back into place before turning toward the exit.
But just as I took a step, a firm hand gripped my wrist, halting me in my tracks.
“You’ve got to stop with this attitude, Ashley,” Bradley’s voice was low, steady, yet brimming with unspoken frustration.
