Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Levi
The rhythmic hum of the car engine does nothing to calm the storm raging in my mind. Tania sits beside me, staring out the window, her profile illuminated by the glow of passing streetlights. She hasn’t said a word since telling me not to spring surprises on her again, and the silence is suffocating.
I loosen my tie and lean back in my seat, my thoughts drifting to the kiss backstage. It wasn’t supposed to happen—not like that, not then. But the moment we were alone, all the tension between us boiled over, and for once, I let instinct take over.
The feel of her lips on mine, the way she melted into me for just a moment—it’s been replaying in my head ever since. And it’s driving me insane.
“You’re awfully quiet,” I say finally, breaking the silence.
She glances at me, her expression unreadable. “What’s there to say?”
“Anything, really,” I reply, forcing a light tone. “I thought you’d be grilling me about my ‘performance’ tonight.”
Her lips twitch, almost like she wants to smile, but she shakes her head. “No point. You clearly do whatever you want anyway.”
The sting of her words is sharper than I expect, and I have to bite back my retort. She’s not wrong—I’ve been taking the reins on this arrangement, assuming she’d follow along. But after tonight, it’s clear I can’t keep doing that.
“Fair enough,” I say instead, my voice quieter now. “But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry if I put you in an uncomfortable position.”
She blinks, her surprise evident before she quickly schools her features. “Apology accepted,” she says finally, though her tone is cautious. “Just don’t let it happen again.”
I nod, even though I know deep down it’s a promise I might not be able to keep. When it comes to Tania, keeping my distance is proving harder than I thought.
Back at my penthouse, I pour myself a glass of whiskey, hoping it’ll quiet the thoughts swirling in my head. The city skyline stretches out before me, glittering and endless, but tonight, it feels like a hollow backdrop.
I down the drink in one go, the burn doing little to distract me from the memory of Tania’s lips on mine. It wasn’t just the kiss itself—it was the way it felt so familiar, so right, like no time had passed since the last time we were together.
And yet, everything has changed.
Three Years Ago
The sound of her laughter filled my penthouse, echoing off the walls as she waved a paintbrush at me, her cheeks streaked with blue and green. We’d decided to paint one of the accent walls in my study—a ridiculous idea, considering neither of us had any artistic skill. But she insisted, and I couldn’t say no to her.
“You’re terrible at this,” I teased, dodging a splatter of paint as she flicked the brush in my direction.
“So are you,” she shot back, grinning. “But at least I’m having fun.”
I grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer, the paintbrush dropping to the floor as she laughed again, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Fun is overrated,” I said, my voice low as I leaned in.
Her smile softened, and for a moment, everything else faded away. “Not when it’s with you.”
I clench my jaw as the memory fades, the ache in my chest sharper than the whiskey’s burn. Back then, things were simpler. We weren’t bogged down by responsibilities or expectations—just two people who couldn’t get enough of each other.
But I ruined it.
I let my ambition get in the way, prioritizing deals and meetings over her. And when she finally called me out, instead of fighting for her, I let her walk away. I told myself it was for the best—that she deserved someone who could give her what she needed.
Now I realize that was just an excuse.
The truth is, I was scared. Scared of failing her. Scared of letting her see the cracks in the carefully constructed image I built for the world. It was easier to push her away than to admit I wasn’t perfect.
But seeing her again, being close to her, it’s like a second chance I don’t deserve.
And that kiss… God, that kiss.
I pour another drink, staring out at the skyline. This fake engagement was supposed to be a business arrangement, nothing more. But with every passing day, I feel the lines blurring, my resolve weakening.
What if this is my chance to make things right? To show her that I’m not the same man I was back then?
But then I remember the guarded look in her eyes, the walls she’s built around herself. She doesn’t trust me—and why should she? I gave her every reason to doubt me.
Still, I can’t shake the thought that this time, things could be different. If I’m careful, if I tread lightly, maybe I can prove to her that I’m worth the risk.
But there’s another part of me—a darker, more cynical part—that wonders if I’m just setting myself up for failure again.