Chapter 8
Visha
When I got back to the hotel room this morning after grabbing breakfast for us, Aoi had vanished into thin air. He didn’t leave as little as a note, and it filled me with immense disappointment.
Before I left the room, he was still passed out on the bed, wrapped in white sheets without a care in the world–only to run off less than half an hour later. I can still smell the sweet scent of jasmine and citrus in the air.
I descend into the lobby in search of Aoi, contemplating asking the hotel receptionist if they’ve seen him, but it’s unnecessary.
There he is, standing by a cream-colored leather sofa, seemingly waiting for someone.
He continuously taps his foot against the floor, impatiently glaring at his phone and rubbing his temple.
My gorgeous and divine Aoi.
His light brown hair is messy, and his ocean eyes are tired. The closer I get, the clearer the sound of foot tapping becomes. “Good morning, I didn’t think I’d find you here,” I greet, smiling too brightly.
Aoi halts in his tracks, slowly looking around for the person I addressed, as if he’s not the only one standing in front of me. “Excuse me, do you mean me?”
“Who else would I be talking to?”
He scratches an invisible itch at the back of his nape, nervously fidgeting with his phone. “Oh, I’m sorry if I sound rude, but I don’t know who you are, sir. Might you have the wrong person?”
Wow. Just motherfucking wow.
Last night, he was gripping my cock so tightly as though his life depended on it, but today he can’t even remember my face?
This can’t be true. Is he serious? Is he faking it, or does he really not remember?
Astonished, I stare at him. He doesn’t seem to be lying.
He bites his bottom lip, seeming uncomfortable as we stand in an awkward silence.
“We met last night during the party organized by Frank Williams,” I explain, trying to sound unbothered, and flex my hand at my side.
He looks confused, as though he truly doesn’t know who I am. This is fucking annoying. Here I thought we had a memorable, sheet-gripping night, but I seem to be the only one who remembers. Aoi’s cheeks flush, visibly embarrassed that he forgot our encounter.
I don’t even know what’s worse. Him not remembering the toe-curling sex we had, or him not recognizing me.
We spent three freaking years together. How does he not recognize my face? Yeah, I know. It’s been eight years since the last time we saw each other, but so what?
How can he not remember me after last night? I’m going to make sure I’m anchored in his mind. His whole body will memorize my touch. I’ll make sure he knows how I’ve been yearning for him these past years.
I’ve been his since the day he found me.
“Oh, sorry. I must’ve drunk a bit too much last night because I can’t seem to recall much from the evening,” he says, offering me a smile.
They used to be bright and warm. Now, they’re polite and void of emotion. The smile of a porcelain doll. What the fuck happened to him during my absence? How can a person change so drastically? I’ve never seen someone go from a glittering angel to a dull, withered flower.
What happened to you, my Paradise?
“That’s fine. We barely spoke anyway. It would’ve been more surprising if you had remembered me, considering the countless guests you were chatting with.” Jeez, I sound like a jealous wife that caught her husband flirting with a waitress. “I’m glad you’re still here. I wanted to talk to you.”
He chuckles and brings the tip of his fingers to his nose, covering his curling lips.
He’s adorable. The prettiest, most beautiful individual in the room. Probably in the whole world. Never mind, he’s literally too gorgeous to be real. How could I possibly walk away from him? I’d rather die.
He stretches out his hand. “An official introduction never hurt anyone. I’m Aoi Holden, nice to meet you.”
I shake his hand and slide my thumb over the back of it. His skin is soft and pale against my rougher, tanned one. He laughs nervously and wets his lips with his tongue.
It takes an insane amount of self-control not to pounce on him and devour him entirely in the middle of the lobby. I know he didn’t mean to turn me on or flirt, but it’s the effect his gesture ends up having. I have to get away from here, or I’m risking popping a boner and freaking him out.
“Vi- Andrew Lacroix. The pleasure is entirely mine. I hope to see you again soon, Mr. Holden.” I subconsciously hold his hand longer than necessary and gently squeeze it before letting go.
“You said you wanted to talk to me?”
I’m in awe of his face. He looks older now compared to the twenty-six-years-old man I used to know. Fuck, I don’t know what to say. “I-”
A dark-skinned man dressed in a bronze-colored suit comes up to us and gives me a polite nod before turning to Aoi. “The car is ready. We have to go.”
Aoi thanks him before glancing back at me. “I’m sorry to cut this meeting short, but unfortunately, duty is calling me. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
I don’t want to let him go, but he’s busy, and I’ll only be a bother if I hold him back.
The man’s hand rests on his shoulder, and it twists my gut in knots.
Aoi follows him outside, and I watch them leave like a dog waiting for its owner to come back home.
I internally hope and beg for him to look back at me.
To simply spare me one last glance, but he doesn’t.
It’s my cue to go back to my own matters and pick up Bellami at the airport. That asshole should be landing in a bit, and if I don’t get there fifteen minutes early, he’ll nag me about punctuality.
Sometimes, it’s like he forgets he’s not my father.
He raised me from the age of fifteen up to now, which technically makes him my father figure. But to me, he’s still the same asshole who deprived me of oxygen for eight years.
We might not jump at each other’s throats anymore, but we damn right aren’t close. I can’t forgive him for taking me away from Aoi eight years ago.
As I make my way toward the valet to get the keys to my McLaren, I think about Aoi. Something about him shifted. I knew it was inevitable for him to change into someone I don’t know anymore, but it still pains me that the sweet and bright Aoi I knew became a faded version of himself.
What happened? Is it because I left? Ha! Don’t flatter yourself, Visha. As if I’m special enough to impact him to this extent.
The valet hands me my keys, and I soon drive off. During the drive, I realize how fucking dumb I am. Why the fuck did I give him my second name?! What is wrong with me?! If I was going to lie about my identity, then why did I tell him my last name? I should’ve invented a completely different one!
The logical thing would’ve been to announce that I’m back and that I’m Visha, so we could reconcile and live happily ever after, while I take our torrid night to the grave.
But no, I had to screw that up too. Fuck, I’m a fucking idiot. How on earth am I supposed to tell him the truth now? Shit, what if he finds out on his own? He’ll absolutely hate me! Our shared past won’t save me from his wrath.
I drive to JFK Airport and curse myself for being an absolute, gigantic moron.
And like the dumbass I am, I have to feed my delusions and blast some music to gaslight myself into not losing hope.
So, I turn on my playlist with the songs of the movie K-pop Demon Hunters and sing along the entire trip to the airport.
Yes, I like a kids’ movie.
Sue me. The songs are immaculate.
I park the car and storm inside, looking for Bellami, and Francesca, his newlywed wife. They came back from their honeymoon earlier than intended, because my dear older brother isn’t only married to her now, but also to his company.
I don’t wait long until they deign appear, dressed in matching light blue and beige outfits.
It was obviously her idea, because my brother loathes pastel colors, but Francesca will never ditch her color palette for a man’s taste.
Even if the man in question is one of the most powerful ones in France.
I don’t bother reaching for a hug. “Did you tan?”
The remark gets me a nudge in the ribs from Bellami and a bright grin from his wife.
“You look beautiful as always, Francesca. How were the Bahamas?” I ask, smiling back.
“Wonderful, but it would’ve been even better if my workaholic husband didn’t have to tend to urgent matters.” She playfully flips him off and laughs when he rolls his eyes at her.
“I can’t help it, mon coeur1. I’m busy.” He sighs, kissing the back of her hand tenderly. “I’ll make it up to you.”
I laugh and urge them to follow me. Once Francesca is a couple feet ahead, I shoot my brother a glance that means urgent personal business. His brows furrow, but he gets the message immediately. After dropping Francesca off at their place with their suitcases, Bellami and I head back to his office.
***
The room is so silent, it’s deafening, and I have to tell him about yesterday, or I’ll die. “I met Aoi last night.”
He barely lifts his head to glance at me, completely unbothered. “Who? Ah, that aspiring author with whom you were so infatuated?” He chuckles, boredly. “What about him?”
“Don’t use the past tense, you bastard. I still love him.” I release a grumble, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring him down. “I think he’s rather successful now, considering he was at Frank’s party last night.”
He rolls his eyes and leans back in his leather chair. “Please, you cannot be serious. What’s so special about that man for you to be so head over heels? Get over it already. It’s been eight years.”
“He’s special, okay? But that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say is that I intend to pursue him, and you better not get in the fucking way this time.” I point at him. “Got it?”
A warning.
If he dares cross me, he’ll lose his precious brother, and this time it’ll be for good. There’s nothing he can do to stop me from slamming the door in his face and walking out on him.
Bellami’s gaze narrows on me. “Get in the way? Listen, our circumstances have changed since that time. You can do whatever you want now and stick your dick in whomever you wish.”
I grimace in disbelief. “You-”
“But if you harm the Lacroix name or bring shame to this company, I’ll kill you with my own two hands. Deal?”
The floor-to-ceiling window behind him gives him an intimidating air, and I swallow past the lump in my throat. The New York City landscape truly is amazing, but we both know he’ll return to France once he’s done managing whatever he’s got going on here.
“Yeah.” I smile, satisfied. “Thanks.”
I turn around and head toward the massive obsidian doors, but his authoritative voice stops me. “Where are you going?”
“To investigate his whereabouts?”
Bellami stares at me, dumbfounded, seemingly wanting to disown me right here and now.
Instead, he sighs, exasperatedly. “Ask Linda to write you a report then. I’m going to have to make some calls.”
I don’t bother listening to his mumbling and fly out of the office faster than a private jet. Nothing is more important than reconnecting with Aoi. And for that to even happen, I have to find out his schedule and what he’s been up to these past years.
I pull out my phone and dial Bellami’s secretary’s number. “Hi, Linda, sorry to bother you, but could you do me a favor?”
“Of course, sir. Is Mr. Lacroix aware of your request?” she answers, her voice tight and polite.
“He told me to call you.”
I hear typing on the other end of the phone until she finally says, “What can I do for you?”
“I need you to find out everything you can about Aoi Holden and report back to me, thank you.”
“Yes, sir.”
On these words, I hang up, a shit-faced grin plastered on my lips as I head home.
I have a lot of planning to do in order to ‘coincidentally’ bump into him and ask him out.