Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
“Huh?”
“Staring at me like I’m a freak.”
He quickly shook his head, appalled. “It’s not like that at all.” He tried to search his mind for the right word, but words had never been his thing, and it was his turn to sigh in frustration.
“Don’t have the right word again?” she teased.
“Yeah, yeah, go ahead, laugh at me. I know I’m the typical brainless jock in your eyes—-”
“Of course not,” she protested with exaggerated dismay.
He made a face.
She grinned. “Sorry, sorry, that’s the last time I’m teasing you. I promise.” She stood up and reached for her bag. “It’s getting late though. Maybe we can continue with...” She paused self-consciously. “Anyway, let’s just talk tomorrow...if you still want to.”
I want to, he thought.
Actually, he wanted her, period.
But every time he attempted to tell her, the words would fail him.
He watched her walk away, and a terrifying, painfully lonely sense of déjà vu struck him.
One day—-
One day, she would walk away from him, and it would be his fault.
One day—-
She suddenly stopped when she reached the doorway, and he held his breath without even knowing why.
She slowly turned towards him. “Tell me.”
His eyes widened.
“Y-you can tell me anything, and I’ll listen.”
Ah.
His mind whirled, his heart galloped, and his throat convulsed.
The word he wanted to say lingered at the tip of his tongue, stubbornly refusing to be revealed. He wanted to tell her that she reminded him of an angel—-
“Issac?”
Ilse’s beautiful eyes were on him, and he could feel himself drowning in them—-
And it scared him.
She was beautiful and smart, funny and creative.
She was everything a guy could want.
He slowly forced himself to smile. “Maybe next time.”
He had been sixteen then, and he had told himself next time he would ask her out properly. Next time, he would be confident about confessing his feelings for her because by then, he would be the kind of guy every girl would want.
But next time never came.
Chapter Nine
There was always something about rain that made even melancholy beautiful. The skies changing color as it wept, cold mist painting a frosted layer over windowpanes as the steady dripping sound hummed a melody exquisite in its agony.
Sometimes, rain made the pain bearable.
Other times, it was the opposite.
Other times, the sound, the sight, the sheer icy feel of rain just made it worse. Pain reflected in every teardrop, and there was just no way to escape it. In every raindrop that struck the blurred glasses of the club, the billionaire could see Ilse, broken and still. In every raindrop, her whispery and halting words echoed.
We are who we are, mijnheer...and we are not for each other.
It was this kind of night that the billionaire surrendered to what he had long struggled with but found impossible to deny.
He needed her.
He needed Ilse.
He would need her forever.
A sense of desperation gripped the billionaire at the realization, and he looked about him blindly. The opulent décor of the club, the heart-thudding music being played by a live DJ, the endless sparkling flow of champagne flowing down a fountain of crystal glasses—-
He saw none of these.
His mind, his entire self, was still submerged in an endless downpour of regret.
Ilse. Ilse. Ilse.
And he knew.
Turning away abruptly, he walked out without a word, not giving a damn that he was being rude to the hundred or so guests he had invited to his party.
Right now, all that mattered was Ilse—-
And he had to see her, now.
As he stalked towards his car, he called Ilse up, and his chest tightened as her phone started to ring. Pick up. Pick up, my love.
But she didn’t.
He drove like a madman, reaching her office building in ten minutes when the journey should have taken twice as long. Throwing his door open, he rushed out into the rain and banged on the front doors when he found them locked.
They opened almost a minute later, and he found himself staring at Ilse’s boss—-
The anxiety in Gloria’s eyes made his fingers tighten around the handle of his umbrella. “What is it?” His voice was hoarse as he asked a question that a part of him already knew the answer to.
Ilse. Ilse. Ilse.
Gloria stared at him, looking like she was about to break down any moment. “Ilse,” she choked out.
Of course, of course, his mind acknowledged dully. It was almost like the past all over again. He had fucked up, and now someone else was paying the price.
Someone else was always paying the price.
THEY ASKED FOR A NURSE who could act like a naïve country bumpkin. That was normal. But they also asked for someone with dark hair and brown eyes, and that was what raised a red flag for me. It was too specific – like the booking was tailor-made for Ilse.
So I called someone I know from the credit card company, traded everything for one single favor, and that’s how I found out it was Ilse’s ex-best friend, Natalia, behind all of it. She’s throwing this bachelor party for her fiancé, and it’s the guy who used to be in love with Ilse.