Chapter Four
B runch at Tatiana’s is always the best thing; I came prepared with avocados and pancakes as promised. But this morning, I woke up fifteen minutes earlier to make a nice chickpeas spread, which we both adored and ate in ten minutes.
When I’m picking up the dishes, my phone rings. Tatiana happens to be next to it and glances at the screen. I roll my eyes, shaking my head as I see her.
“So... Cinderella , after you’re done with the dishes, the vacuum is waiting for you,” she says, trying too hard to keep her seriousness.
“You can’t avoid reading my texts, can you?”
“How come Adam Shop is calling you ‘Cinderella’? And why did you save his number under Adam Shop ?” she asks, giving me that confused look.
“It’s an inside joke from last night—And what’s wrong with Adam Shop? It’s easy to remember! Associating a person to a place is smart.” I make my point by lifting my chin.
“Like in the good ol' days," she mocks. " Just use his name, or add an emoji. The purple devil emoji, for example,” she suggests, and I have a hard time telling if she is being serious.
“Sure, the purple devil emoji with an eggplant to the side...” I joke.
She laughs.
“So—yesterday?” She gets in the I’m all ears position with her elbows placed over the wooden table, both hands cupping her cheeks.
Knowing what she wants to know, I sigh.
“He surprised me by the shop. I invited him in, we laughed, talked, had tea, a little bit of wine and…we might meet again later today,” I say, removing importance to the recent events. Even if I know Tatiana is super excited and waiting for details, I’m hoping deep inside she will understand that I don’t want to get there…yet.
“Wine?” She gives me a wink. “That’s great! And…do you have a nice dress?” she asks, completely out of topic.
“Always, but your boobs are never fitting in my dresses, though. But why you ask—where are you going?” I take a seat in front of her, mocking her signature gossip position, waiting for her to spill the tea.
“Hey—” she scolds, “I can fit wherever I want, even your dresses—and you should check your texts,” she says, sliding the phone across the table. I pick up the phone, seeing a text from Adam on my lock screen.
From: Adam Shop
Good morning, Cinderella.
Is it too early to know if you’ve changed plans?
I found an adventure other than a walk around the park and it involves free food.
Do you have a nice dress?
I read his text a few times before replying, even if I’m already sold on free food. But his do you have a nice dress isn’t helpful. What kind of nice dress? Does he mean an evening dress, cocktail, afternoon nice dress? There are so many possible options.
To: Adam Shop
Good morning, Adam! Oh, what kind of adventure is it? A nice dress, yes, I suppose I do.
I glance over my words one last time before hitting send. A wave of curiosity washes over me. What kind of adventure is he hinting at? My mind races with possibilities. And my phone buzzes again.
From: Adam Shop
Aha! I can also be mysterious.
I guess you’ll have to find out.
*purple devil emoji*
I grin as I see the emoji at the end of his text. Ok—now he’s speaking a language I enjoy.
To: Adam Shop
Mysterious Adam with free food, Interesting.
Count me in.
From: Adam Shop
Perfect! Send me your address,
I’ll pick you up at 5:00 p.m.
I read and stare blankly at my phone.
“What’s wrong?” I hear Tatiana ask from across the living room.
“I suppose I need to find a nice dress.” A smile creeps on my face.
Tatiana and I spent a couple of hours planning out the week for the shop while I did her heatless curls with some pieces of cloth. When I finally checked the time, it was already 2:00 p.m. I knew I had to head out if I wanted to be ready on time, since I still needed to go back to my place and get ready before Adam shows up. Plus, I still haven’t decided which nice dress I’m going to wear.
I hug Tatiana goodbye, and she hugs me back.
"Please wear your sexy perfume!" she reminds me, I laugh and nod before closing the door behind me.
Back in my apartment, looking at my closet makes me feel overwhelmed. I’ve got a ton of dresses, but without knowing what the occasion is, it’s tough to make the right choice.
After a few scans and five trials, I think I’ve made my mind. I pull out a twill fabric dress, in a cream near white colour with beautiful floral print in a mustard-gold tone, with a belt and matching low-heeled shoes. I try everything on, and I feel like a dark-haired Grace Kelly in Rear Window . Now, I’m more excited about finally wearing this dress than the fact that I’m going out with Adam. I add a soft twill scarf that I can put over my shoulders in case I’m cold. I can even wrap it around my head and neck, leaving some strands of hair visible near my face. Now it’s perfect, sophisticated, elegant, and at the same time, the shoes keep it both classic and casual.
I check my phone, the time reading 4:45 p.m. I didn’t do too bad. For make up, I grab my go-to Guerlain Lipstick Rouge G, in the shade Le rouge Bordeaux. It’s this deep and sexy red I’ve been obsessed with for a while now, and use almost daily. I apply it, doing a heart shape on my upper lip and following the real lines on my mouth. I take one last look at the mirror, and the mission is accomplished.
Descending the staircase, I feel as if I'm stepping straight out of a perfume commercial, exuding confidence with each step. Reaching the entrance, I glimpse a sleek, light grey car parked on my right. Leaning casually against it is Adam, with his phone to his ear, completely unaware of my approach.
My phone rings loudly, and my high-fashion-perfume commercial is over. He turns to look at me, his surprise almost tangible. And as our eyes meet, his expression transforms into a charming grin that makes my heart race.
"Hey," he says softly, kissing my cheek.
"Hey!" I greet him, smiling.
"You…y-you look…you look." His eyes dart nervously up and down as he stutters, the words seem to be caught in his throat. I watch him, smiling, tracing the path of his gaze, feeling his struggle.
"Gorgeous." He smiles, offering me his hand and opening the door of the car for me.
Can he get any better than this?
"Thank you," I tell him, as I get in the car. I fasten the seatbelt and put my handbag over my lap. He gets in the driver's seat next to me and starts driving.
I look at the road for a couple of seconds and back at him. I can’t help but smile as he drives, his hands confidently gripping the wheel. When he makes a U-turn, I catch myself admiring the way his muscles flex, his jaw tightening with concentration, that focused look in his eyes.
There’s an intensity about him that makes my breath catch in my throat. He is attractive, so effortlessly manly. And I realize in this moment, that I need to snap from this chain of thoughts before he notices my obvious stare.
“What?” he asks.
I shake my head, trying to hide my smile.
“Nothing...just wondering where are you taking me? What is this adventure that involves free food?”
“Oh, that. Let’s just say it's a party, and we are arriving late on purpose.” He smiles playfully, eyes still on the road.
“So, we arrive at the time they are serving the food?” I’m confused, but I know he doesn’t want to give me many details and I don’t want to kill the effect of surprise.
He nods.
“Yes, yes, sort of.” He keeps his smile.
The journey to our destination stretched on for about thirty minutes, filled with the sounds of music playing softly in the background.
Every so often, Adam’s CarPlay would show incoming calls— mostly from women —interrupting the music, but he ignored them, his focus elsewhere. I shrugged it off, my gaze drifting out the window instead.
The scenery transformed dramatically, the city’s skyscrapers being replaced by grand state houses displaying exquisite terraces and imposing gates. A thought crossed my mind. This was no ordinary party we were headed to. The anticipation began to build within me.
“Is it here? Have we arrived?” I ask as he goes past an open gate, entering an obvious private property. He parks a hundred metres further and looks at me, smiling.
“Yes. Wait right here.” He gets out of the car and walks to my door. He opens it, offering me his hand again.
“ Mademoiselle ,” he says.
“ Monsieur ,” I mock his tone, accepting his hand.
He nods and gently rests his hand on my lower back as we walk toward the imposing entrance. Once we push through the heavy doors, we step into a stunning room with high ceilings and sober décor that exudes sophistication. It feels like we’ve entered the heart of an extravagant party.
As I glance around, it’s clear that the guests recognize Adam. Their eyes light up with surprise when they see him, that turns into curiosity when they spot me by his side.
“Adam, darling!”
I hear a female voice from behind us. An older woman approaches us with the widest smile and in a good mood.
“I thought I wouldn’t have seen you until the wedding, my handsome boy!” she says, taking Adam into her arms.
Ok—my handsome boy, the wedding, this woman. No, he didn’t bring me to a family thing, did he?
After pulling back from the woman’s embrace, Adam turns to me and introduces me.
“Aunt Claire, this is my friend, Miss Olivia...”
Oh wait—he did.
He looks at me for help, and I think he just realized that we don’t know each other’s last names. And I just came to a stranger’s family party.
Brilliant, Olivia. Just brilliant.
I put on my biggest smile and take his aunt’s hand with mine.
“James...Olivia James, it’s a pleasure.”
“Pleasure is mine, Olivia. Look at you, darling. You are marvellous!” She looks up and down to me. This Aunt Claire is my kind of person. She looks vibrant and happy. I assume she is an incredibly positive person. At her compliment, I smile and almost forget how mad I’m at Adam for bringing me here to meet his family with zero warning. Is he crazy?
“Adam, sweetheart, your mother said you were coming to the rehearsal, but you just missed it,” she says, clearly happy to see him, but with a small amount of disappointment in her expression.
“Oh no, I rushed for nothing? So, everybody is what—leaving now?” he asks, and I narrow my eyes at him. What a liar . If it wasn’t because I was in the car with him, I would have believed him myself. His confidence is flawless.
“No, dear, don’t be silly. We shall be dining shortly, I’m indulging in champagne in the meantime—avoid your mother, by the way. She’s been arguing with Diane since we got here.”
“The bride arguing with the mother-in-law? That sounds about right.”
“Well, not to me. But anyway, I’ll see you in the dining room, handsome. Olivia, dear, it is a pleasure. Feel free to sit next to me at the table.”
When Aunt Claire leaves, I turn to face Adam. He is looking at me with a smile, and I roll my eyes at him.
“A wedding rehearsal, seriously?” I shake my head in disbelief, my voice rising just a tad. “You dragged me here, where part of your family is, and I don’t even know your last name! What were you thinking?” I can’t help but let my frustration spill out, feeling both exasperated and overwhelmed.
“Hey, hey—” He grabs my shoulders. “It’s fine, the rehearsal is over, we can have fun, and if you want to leave, we can leave.” He looks into my eyes, giving me his charming smile. “I’ve got you, Olivia James.” His tone is calm, soft, and reassuring. How is it even possible to argue with him? He mutters a couple of words, and I go all soft.
Anyway, no one here really knows me, and Adam and I are not even in a relationship. As far as I know, I’m surrounded by a bunch of strangers who I will never see again. I try to relax and wait for that meal he promised.
“Fine,” I sigh, "we can stay for dinner, but we leave right after!”
“Absolutely!” he agrees.
“So…” I say, changing the subject. “Do you play a role in this whole thing?” I ask while looking at all the people walking across the room with trays full of glasses and appetisers.
“Best man,” he says. I turn to look at him, narrowing my eyes, looking for the joke.
“So, you are the groom’s best man, and you arrive late purposely?”
“I didn’t think I needed to rehearse my toast, to be honest.” He laughs. “But it’s my brother, so I decided to come, even at the last minute.” He takes two glasses of champagne from the tray presented to us by one of the fancy-dressed waiters. He offers me one, and now I know that I will spend the rest of the evening with a full glass in my hand, I need to force myself to stay sober, I don’t want to be remembered as the stranger who was not invited but drank even the water of the flowers.
“So, your brother is the one getting married?” I ask, and he nods.
I look around, admiring the beauty of the decoration; elegant, perfect—and this is not even the wedding day. As I scan the room, my eyes go back to Adam. He has his eyes set ahead, clearly searching for someone, but I don’t ask who. I remain quiet, my eyes set on the waiters. I’m hungry and I need some of those appetisers to come my way, or should I say canapés?
Adam says something I barely hear, and when I look back in his direction, I see a hand over his shoulder. Clearly it’s someone he knows, as he turns and hugs the man now next to him. When they break their contact, I look at him.
He has perfectly combed, dark blond hair. His deep blue eyes are striking, framed by a dense fan of dark eyelashes that deepen their brilliance. His beard is light but meticulously groomed, tracing the strong lines of his jaw with a neat precision. His nose is beautifully sculpted, while a soft dusting of light freckles dances across his face, adding a touch of charm and boyish warmth. He is wearing a beige tailored suit with a white buttoned shirt, keeping a straight posture. His whole demeanour exudes refinement. Adam must have said something funny, because he lets out a silly laugh .
Oh Lord, his smile makes him even more attractive.
He is slightly taller than Adam, but has the same allure that’s hard to overlook. Who’s this? The groom? He sure has groom vibes. And he does look like Adam in a way.
I see him talking to Adam close to his ear and smiling. They do have the same smile.
His expression changes as soon as he spots me. His eyes narrow before me, there’s a hint of surprise in the way he looks at me. Maybe he was not expecting Adam to come accompanied. Of course, it is his wedding, and he looks like the kind of family and friends only. At that moment, Adam turns back and looks in my direction.
“Oh, where are my manners?” He taps the side of his head. “Nate, this is Miss Olivia James. Olivia, this is my brother.”
I hold out my hand, and he grabs it delicately, getting closer to my ear. When I think I’m going to hear his name, I only hear his breathing, his deep inhale. It lasts two seconds, but enough for me to notice it. He pulls apart, keeping my hand in his.
“My pleasure, Nathaniel Martens,” he says. A grin spreads across his face.
I freeze.
The sound of his name hits me like a splash of cold water. I feel my heart thud once, twice, then quicken its pace. I try to convince myself of the coincidence. I swallow hard, trying to maintain a composed expression as his perfume lingers around me, that warm, spicy and woody scent that revives a memory.
A part of me knows that there’s no doubt, and the other sleeps in denial. It’s not possible that this is Nathan, is it? The person I knew, shared many conversations with was not to be married, not even in a relationship. So, if he really is who I think he is, either I was too na?ve, or he is a big son of a bitc?—
“Nathaniel,” I say, my voice betraying nothing, as if I were merely greeting another stranger. That’s what he is, after all. His hand is warm, his grip firm, but there’s a flicker in his eyes that tells me he knows exactly who I am.
“Olivia James,” he repeats, testing the name like it’s the first time he’s ever said it. But his lips curve into a knowing smile. “Call me Nathan.” He pauses. “Or whatever you may prefer.” He smirks.
The audacity.
I nod and give him a polite smile. There’s no doubt—it is him. The voice and the scent that I know too well are impossible to ignore. Memories rush back to me, too fast it is overwhelming. Of course, these sorts of things only happen to me.
Dear universe, if you hear me, what the fuck are you doing? I don’t recall manifesting this.
I should have asked Adam what his last name was, but at the same time, would that have made a difference? I don’t think so. I could have asked more about his brother when he brought him up in the coffee shop, maybe that would have given me a hint.
While I look at them having a chat without paying attention to what they are saying, Nathaniel’s eyes come back on me a few times, dark and probing. I try hard to ignore him. I think it’s about time I leave this place. I’ll need to give Adam an excuse, because I fucked your soon-to-be-married brother , is not going to work.
Eventually, Adam looks at me, and I snap out of my thoughts.
“I will grab a little something to eat, you wait for me here?” I nod and he leaves. He left. And he made sure not to leave me alone. Nathan is standing a metre from me, facing forward as my eyes follow Adam disappear in the crowd. There’s an awkward silence between us, even in the middle of the noise of glasses of champagne, soft jazz, and people laughing and chatting lively.
“Olive.” Nathan breaks the silence, but I don’t respond. I stand there, frozen.
“Olive,” Nathan says again, his voice low, rough around the edges, like he’s holding back. I turn fully, my breath catching as I finally face him, my heart pounding. He’s staring straight ahead, refusing to meet my eyes now that there’s only the two of us, probably because he doesn’t want people to see him talking to a complete stranger at his wedding rehearsal. His jaw is clenched tight, his face hard.
“Nathan,” I almost whisper, the name tasting unfamiliar on my tongue after so long.
“Follow me, will you?” he mutters without facing me, demanding, and walks away behind me.
I glance in his direction, and he is indeed walking away. I hesitate. Would it be wrong if I followed behind him? Or should I remain here, wait for Adam, and tell him that I want to leave? However, there’s—an incredibly curious—part of me that wants to know why he asked me to follow him.
While I’m debating inside my head whether this is a good idea or not, I find myself going through the same door Nathaniel went through.
I walk into a narrow hallway with poor lighting and he surprises me from behind, grabbing my wrist firmly and making me gasp.
He drags me upstairs to another hall with a few doors. I feel both confused and scared. A cold goes through my body, a gut feeling that I cannot shake. He stops in front of the nearest door and must see the look on my face, because his expression softens for a moment.
“Olive, I just need to talk,” he says, unlocking the door. He waits for me to nod before getting in, and as soon as we are inside, he closes the door behind him.
I stand there in the middle of a massive bedroom, the light of the moon coming through the window, allowing me to see the space.
Nathaniel approaches me from the door. His eyes bore into mine, an intense shade of dark blue searching for the answers I wish I had. His hair is perfectly combed in place. His jaw line is masculine and strong with a light beard partly covering his chin, jaw, and around his lips. His rosy lips are not thick nor thin, they are perfect. He has thick lashes making his eyes pop even in the dimly lit room. Seeing him in front of me in this way is digging in my soul, and I feel extremely small and cold.
“You disappeared.” His voice vibrates with tension. His eyes flick to me and there’s fire there, burning beneath that cold exterior. “No word. No warning. Just gone.” He steps closer, the space between us shrinking as the heat of his frustration crashes over me.
I take a step back, aware of the gravity of the moment, of everything I never told him, of all the things I’ve left behind since cutting the lines that connected us. His presence feels like a punch to the gut. He’s taller and broader than I imagined—strong. Fierce.
“I—” I start, but words stick in my throat. I don’t know what to say. Sorry I ghosted you? I never imagined he would be this hurt by my disappearance, we were nothing. Right? To me, we were only having fun. Now I know he was in fact engaged . I shouldn’t be owing him any explanation.
“I waited, Olive. Every day. And you were gone. I sent you messages, I called.” He pauses. “It took me months to realize you didn’t want to be found. And even when I did, I kept my distance.” His chest is centimetres from mine, his nearness sends a shiver down my spine.
“Nathan, I didn’t mean to?—”
“You didn’t mean to disappear?” He scoffs, running a hand through his now messy hair. His eyes don’t leave mine, and I can feel the weight of his stare. The way it pulls at the pieces of me that I’ve tried to hide. “That’s what you’re going with?”
His frustration is thick in the air, but beneath it, I can see the hurt, see it in the way his shoulders tense. I repeat his words in my head, and it hurts me. It confuses me. What does he mean he kept his distance? He’s been committed to someone else all this time. A part of me feels insulted and played, while the other feels hurt and about to crumble.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “Nathan, I?—”
“You left me,” he cuts me off again, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. “It was hard to move on from what I thought we had.”
For a moment, he looks at me, his jaw working as if he’s biting back something harsher. He steps forward again, and before I can react, his hand is at my waist, pulling me close, the other brushing against my cheek. His touch is firm and determined, but not unkind.
“What do you mean you kept your distance?” I look him straight in the eyes. He smirks and leans to my ear.
“Does it matter?”
I sigh.
“Maybe not anymore. Congratulations, by the way,” I say, annoyance clear in my voice.
He looks at me confused.
“What are you talking about—” He stops himself abruptly and takes my wrist in a firm grip, pulling me into what looks like a closet. Once inside, I’m about to ask what’s wrong, but I hear the bedroom door open. Footsteps walk around the room, near the closet. I’m going through all sorts of excuses as to why I’m inside here with the groom. But my thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the door that opens and closes again.
“You sure no one followed you?” We hear someone in the room, and I’m sure it’s Adam. After our evening chat, his voice is stuck in my head.
“I’m sure. I’m so happy to see you, I thought you wouldn’t come,” a woman’s voice says.
“I wasn’t coming,” Adam responds, “but I had to see you before the wedding. To try and change your mind.” He chuckles.
“Nice try, but you know I love your brother.” She pauses. “You and I, that’s a different thing, Adam,” she says, her voice sultry. It’s the bride. Jesus Christ, Buddha, Lakshmi, universe, whoever hears me, get me out of here .
“Was it necessary to come with someone? Are you trying to make me jealous?” she continues, and I can only assume she is talking about me.
“Oh, I wouldn’t dare.” I hear his characteristically charming, little laugh.
Listening to his seductive voice, I imagine his smile, his eyes. I shake the thoughts, and my eyes widen, putting all the pieces together.
I feel like I am inside a soap opera. My date, Adam, is secretly seeing Nathan’s bride, and Nathan is in this closet with me, and I’m here, waiting for that moment when Nathan comes out and catches them both in their affair. But he does nothing, he doesn’t even tense.
We hear kissing and heavy breathing, and I wonder how Nathan is finding the strength to listen to this and do nothing. This is the woman he is to marry, and she is clearly having an affair with his brother. I feel disgusted being in this place, surrounded by these people, listening to Adam kissing and going the extra mile with this woman. But at the same time, I feel relieved at not allowing myself to fall for this man. At the end, Tatiana was not so right.
Nathan and I stay frozen, hidden in the closet. I don’t know how I got myself in this situation. Am I unconsciously testing my anxiety in different settings? Nathan’s perfume filling the space makes my mind vivid with the memories of him. He is way too close to me. I close my eyes, putting a face to all the dark and blurry images of us. How my hand roamed through his hair, his face, guessing his features. I breathe in.
I’m jolted out of my thoughts when I feel Nathan shift, his warm hand moving from my shoulder and down my arm. His touch is slow, deliberate, and surprisingly gentle given the tension in the air. I freeze, my breath catching as his fingers brush over my skin, making their way up from my hand to the curve of my breast.
I shouldn’t want this. Not here, not now, but my pulse quickens, and I can’t deny the spark of heat building between us. The muffled sounds from the bedroom grow more intense, but in this small, dark space, it feels like Nathan and I are in our own world. Silent, forbidden, blind.
I turn my head, trying to catch his expression, but there are no lights inside. All I can feel is the warmth of his body against mine, the rise and fall of his chest as his breath grows heavier, just like the last time we met. His fingers trace the outline of my breast, lingering at the edge of my bra, testing, waiting for me to stop him. I don’t. Instead, I press against him, our bodies now impossibly close.
His lips brush my ear, his breath warm.
“You don’t want him, do you?” he whispers. His voice is low, barely audible over the rustling from the other side of the room, but it sends a shiver down my spine. And at this moment, I can’t lie.
I find his hand with mine, guiding it lower across my stomach until it rests below the waistband of my dress. This is a clear response to him, and I feel his hand tighten, a silent acknowledgement that we’re both caught in something we shouldn’t be, yet neither of us is willing to stop.
He exhales a ragged breath that matches my own growing desire. For a moment, all I can hear is the sound of our breathing, in sync, the muffled moans from the other side of the room barely registering anymore. We’re lost in this stolen moment. His lips find my neck and his hand gets in between my legs, playing with me.
His fingers explore my sex, circling my clit. Even if his pace is slow, I feel the desperation in his touch. His intoxicating scent fills the air in the reduced space we share.
I move my right hand to his leg and slide it up to the waistband of his pants, unbuttoning the front. And as I move my hand smoothly down his briefs, we hear the bedroom door close with a loud thud, making us freeze.
A wave of uncertainty washes over me as I weight the decision to step out. We hold our breaths, counting the seconds, listening attentively for any sign of movement. Finally, the silence feels safe and I push the closet door open.
As we step outside, I take a quick look around the room while Nathan buttons his pants. My eyes go back to him, and I see him attempting to tame his now messy hair with his fingers. He freezes mid-comb when our eyes meet, a mischievous smirk forming on his lips.
Jesus— scratch that , Nathaniel .