Chapter 1
Chapter one
Madeleine
ten months later
Who the fuck invented mascara that isn’t waterproof?
Oh, I know. Probably a goddamn man who didn’t think about the consequences of what would happen if one might cry while wearing it.
Because men don’t cry.
No, no. God forbid they ever display their true feelings openly for others to see.
Not when they leave that job for us women to perform.
And when we do show our emotions, well, then we’re labeled as crazy and overly emotional.
But not me.
Nope. In our world, I’m known as a cold, heartless bitch who takes mercy on no one.
So, why would I need to worry about mascara that isn’t waterproof when I never cry?
I’m an Alarie, for God’s sake, the most feared and idolized family in the northeast, reining over those around us.
And we definitely didn’t achieve this reputation by showing weakness with tears.
But as I stare at my reflection in the gold antique-framed mirror, watching black tears crawl down my cheeks, I can’t help but feel like a complete failure.
Unworthy of the Alarie last name.
What have I done?
I hold my left hand before my eyes, noting the glint and sparkle of the extravagant diamond ring. It’s gaudy. Not at all something I would have picked out for myself.
But it seems that recently, I haven’t had much say in anything that goes on in my life.
Knock. Knock.
Shit.
I hastily wipe the mascara smears off my skin as best as possible to hide all evidence of my mini-breakdown. “Be right there.” Just as I finish swiping a tissue beneath my bottom lashes, the door swings open, slamming against the wall and leaving a noticeable dent.
What the fuck?
“I said I’d be right—”
My words die on my lips as I glance into the mirror and catch sight of a pair of familiar dark irises resembling storm clouds, ready to unleash terror.
It’s him.
Eli Lyon.
A man I grew up with.
The one who gave me my first kiss while playing spin the bottle as kids.
The one who wrapped me in his arms after my father’s death, providing a sense of safety I’ve never felt before in this dark world.
The one who traveled across countries and oceans to be with me in secret.
And the one I wish I could hate.
I knew I’d see him eventually. It was inevitable, given that he’s now playing the role of bodyguard to my brother’s wife and my best friend.
But in a sense of delusion, I had hoped that by some chance, some miracle, our paths would never cross again.
Merely because I knew it would hurt too much.
And I was right. It does.
Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing me in a moment of weakness, I quickly throw on a faux smile and toss the tissue into the barrel beside me, my fingers gripping the marble counter for support.
“Eli,” I say evenly, hoping and praying he doesn’t see through my confident facade.
“Madeleine,” he replies, watching my every move with intense eyes like a predator on the hunt as his gaze travels down my ivory satin dress.
His voice is the same—smooth and gravelly, extra velvety when he says my name, which sends a pleasant shiver down my spine.
The English accent he bears only adds to his appeal.
Because he couldn’t just be graced with good looks. No. He was also gifted a voice that would instantly make any woman drop to her knees.
I should know.
With a raised brow, I tilt my head to the side.
“I didn’t know you’d be making an appearance tonight.
Did you come to my engagement party to congratulate me?
” I purposely wipe an imaginary piece of lint from my right shoulder, giving him an unobstructed view of the monstrosity displayed on my ring finger.
His eyes narrow in on the diamond, his jaw clenching forcefully. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was giving the look of a jealous man.
He steps inside the room, closing and locking the door behind him.
My heart rate picks up as I straighten my shoulders.
Stay strong.
He stands behind me, his large tattooed-clad hands gripping the counter on both sides of me, caging me in.
I watch, frozen, as he leans forward to brush his soft lips against my ear, sending a raging swirl of heat throughout my entire body.
If I weren’t grasping the counter so tightly, I’d probably crash to the floor, embarrassing myself before him.
“No,” he breathes. “I didn’t come here to congratulate you. Because your engagement is not something to celebrate.”
“That’s a little cruel, don’t you think?”
He shakes his head. “What would be cruel is watching you walk down an aisle toward that prick and not doing a goddamn thing about it.” His hand comes forward, grasping the front of my neck, his thumb resting on my erratic pulse.
A wicked smile stretches across his handsome face as his thumb glides back and forth over my skin. “It’s nice to know I still affect you.”
“The only thing you affect is my heartburn,” I bite back.
His smile falls, his solid chest pushing up against my exposed back. Tension sweeps over me as he glowers down at me, his eyes desperately trying to see right through me. “What game are you playing, Princess?”
Princess.
My lips part, a silent breath fleeing.
That nickname once made me feel special as if I meant something to him.
Maybe even everything to him. But now, it lacks any of the same power over me that it once held.
“You can’t…” I say far too softly for my liking.
I clear my throat, desperately trying to sound poised like his presence isn’t chiseling away at the stone walls I constructed around my heart. “You can’t call me that anymore.”
His grip tightens, igniting a fire low in my belly. One that needs to be quickly extinguished. “Why the hell not?”
“Because I’m engaged. My fiancé would not take kindly to know another man—
“Fuck your fiancé.” His eyes darken, chaos brewing beneath the surface. The tiny flecks of gold that I used to count swirl delicately with the deep brown until they vanish entirely.
With his eyes locked on mine, his fingers clutching my neck, and his comforting scent—cedar with a hint of spice—wrapped around me, a familiar ache blooms in my chest. It’s a deep, unsettling pain that tries to drag me under the surface.
It’s the reminder I need to douse the flames brewing between us.
“I can’t do this.” I push away from him, his hand falling as I slip past.
He’s letting me go.
It shouldn’t surprise me.
And I shouldn’t want him to fight for me.
To prove to me that he was wrong.
That the letter was just a momentarily lapse of judgment.
One he wrote in the heat of the moment and never should have followed through with by sending to me.
I shouldn’t want any of that.
But I do.
A brief sting of disappointment washes over me as I step away. That is, until his fingers wrap around my shoulder, spinning me and pushing my back against the door. My breaths come out rapidly as he bends down, bringing his face merely a few inches from mine.
I know this face.
I know the hard edges of his chiseled jaw.
I know the way his stubble feels when he rests his cheek against my palm.
And I know how those soft lips taste.
God, do I remember.
I’ve been cursed during these months apart, unable to forget.
Even when I’ve tried so desperately to.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice unsteady as his chest brushes against mine. Every nerve ending in my body comes alive, waiting for what happens next. The anticipation of it alters my mind, temporarily causing me to forget why I should hate this man.
His palms rest on each side of my head, his body covering mine like a fortress I could never escape.
“Answer my question first.”
I stare at him, forgetting what he asked of me. Forgetting what fucking year it is as his lips slide across my cheek to my ear.
“What. Game. Are you playing?” His nose travels down my neck, stopping at my collarbone before his eyes meet mine under those dark lashes. “The Madeleine I know wouldn’t be doing this.” Softly, his lips press against my skin, leaving heat in their wake. “This isn’t you.”
This isn’t you.
The words bring me right back to reality.
Back to a world where knights in shining armor don’t exist.
And men don’t actually mean it when they say those three words.
My hands at my sides clench into fists, my blood boiling with liquid rage.
“This isn’t me?” I repeat, a sardonic smile splashing across my face. “Who are you to pretend like you know me?”
His shoulders tense as he rises to his full height. “I know—”
“You know nothing!” I cut him off, shoving at his muscular chest. “You think because we shared some measly letters or a few forgettable nights together that you know me, but you don’t.
” I walk to the other side of the room, fury overtaking me.
“You don’t fucking know me.” I shake my head, getting lost in my memories. “Not since…”
My words trail off as my mind relives a moment that has continually haunted me.
Four words echo across my skull.
Back and forth.
Up and down.
One sentence that changed everything between him and me.
My heart thunders violently beneath my rib cage, a tremble tumbling through me, shaking me to my core.
I pinch my eyes shut, my fingers digging into my scalp. “Make it stop,” I plead.
Eli’s large hands cup my cheeks. “Make what stop?”
I open my eyes, blinking back tears I won’t let escape, especially not in front of him. I take in his worried features, his eyes softening with concern.
He’s the man I dreamed of spending forever with.
But that’s all it ever was—only a dream.
“Nothing.” I swallow down every emotion and straighten my shoulders, placing a smile back on my face. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a fiancé waiting for me.” I shove past him and turn, my knuckles wrapping around the doorknob.
“When was the exact moment you stopped waiting?”
His words slice through my icy heart, stopping me in my tracks. “That’s not fair,” I whisper, peeking over my shoulder.
“Fair?” Anger unleashes in his voice. “Did you forget about the damn promises we made to each other?”
I stare at him, completely bewildered by his accusation.
How dare he?
I’ve spent the past ten months crying in the shadows because of him, mending a broken heart in silence, never letting anyone witness my daily agony: the nightmares, the panic attacks, the guilt, and the insomnia—all because of him.
I face him, crossing my arms over my chest. “Clearly, we made promises to each other that neither one of us could keep.”
“Oh? And how did I break mine? Because if I remember correctly, you were engaged to another man when I came home. It was you who broke your promise to me. So, please, enlighten me: which promise did I break?”
“You promised to never hurt me.” My words settle in the space between us. His features contort with either confusion or understanding; I’m not entirely sure which one. But either way, I can’t stay this close to him any longer.
My walls are cracking with every passing second.
And I refuse to break in front of him.
He opens his lips, a sorry-ass excuse probably sitting on the tip of his tongue, but it’s too late. The damage has been done.
Holding up a hand, I stop him. “Let’s get one thing clear right now.
You’re my brother’s best friend and, unfortunately for me, a part of my family.
But that does not give you the right to storm into my engagement party—one of the happiest nights of my life, I might add—and be mad at me for moving on with my life.
” I twist the doorknob, opening it a few inches.
“Oh, and do not ever refer to me as ‘Princess’ again. That name died along with the girl who once believed in fairy tales and happily ever afters. Now, I know the only person who will ever rescue me is my goddamn self.” Locking eyes with him, my heart beats wildly beneath my rib cage.
“I once made the mistake of loving you, Eli. But I promise you, I will never make that same mistake again.”
Slamming the door behind me, I straighten my shoulders and stride confidently back into my engagement party toward the man across the room, flirting with a blonde by his side.
Alastor Manacorda.
My fiancé.
And the villain of my story.