Chapter 2 Solene

Solene

I'm wearing a blue cocktail dress. The handover ceremony has already started.

Soft music plays in the background as people move around, glasses clinking and with low voices.

I step inside, tugging nervously at the hem of my dress.

All eyes turn to me.

Most of them belong to Rowan's family, and I already know they hate me. Their stares are judgmental, like I'm a stain on their family reputation. I hear the whispers already in my head. 'Why did Rowan marry her? What did he ever see in someone like that?'

I scan the room.

Then I see him.

Rowan stands near the center, tall and calm, holding a glass of wine like he owns the place. He looks every bit the prince in his kingdom.

My heart skips, just like it always does when I see him.

But his eyes aren't on me.

They're locked on a woman who just enters the hall.

She walks like the floor was built for her. Her red evening gown hugs every perfect curve. Her hair is styled with care, her heels clicking softly with confidence.

I freeze.

Something in me already knows. 'This is her.' The woman Marcella chose for Rowan.

I watch as she walks straight to him.

"That's the man of the moment," she says sweetly.

The smile that spreads across Rowan's face could light up the entire room.

My chest tightens painfully.

Gasps ripple through the crowd. A few people glance at me, then quickly look away. Some pity me. Others enjoy the show.

Rowan pulls her closer without hesitation.

Then, right there, he kisses her.

With his eyes closed, their lips move slowly, like they've done this a thousand times.

It steals the air from my lungs.

My knees weaken. My hands go cold. I feel hollow, like someone just ripped everything out of me.

I want to scream.

I want to run.

But I can't move.

I just stand there, watching them kiss,

I never imagined I'd be humiliated like this, not in front of people who already believe I'm nothing.

Rowan suddenly pulls away from the kiss.

He takes a flute of champagne from one of the servers and taps it gently with a spoon. The soft clicking sound, and the crowd turns toward him.

"Thank you all for being here today," he says, raising the glass. "It means the world to me."

The room is quiet.

"Tonight isn't just about success-it's about love. And none of this would be possible without the love of my life, Calista."

My chest tightens.

I knew it.

She's the one. The third wheel in my marriage.

I guess she just got back from overseas.

"Babe," Rowan continues, "I love you with all my heart. I can't wait to spend forever with you. I was blind... but now I see what a rare gem you are."

I feel my knees go weak.

"And on this note, I want the world to know how important you are to me," he says, turning toward her. "So I ask you this one question..."

He lowers to one knee.

"Will you marry me?"

Gasps sweep through the room. Then applause bursts out like thunder.

My ears ring. My heart pounds. I can't breathe.

Calista covers her mouth, nods, and leans in to kiss him.

My world caves in.

But what crushes me most isn't the kiss, it's the way people look at me.

Some glance, whisper, then quickly look away.

A few pretend not to notice me at all.

Others... enjoy the show.

I should've walked away long before this.

My legs feel heavy, but I force them to move. I turn slowly, my eyes scanning the room. And then I see her.

Marcella.

She sits at a table with a glass of wine in her hand and that poisonous smile on her lips.

This was all planned, and I was meant to watch every second of it.

I step out of the hall like a ghost, holding myself together as my head throbs.

At the end of the corridor, I spot a quiet lounge.

I walk inside.

The lights are dim. It smells of faint roses and old leather.

I lower myself onto the couch, trembling.

My chest tightens until I can't tell if it's grief, rage, or both.

Rowan just proposed to Calista, right in front of me.

And the world cheered.

"Whiskey for me... and a martini for the lady." A baritone voice rolls through the quiet room.

The voice alone sends a ripple through my spine. And I hate that it does something warm and low that tightens in my belly.

I slowly lift my head.

He's tall. Broad. The air around him feels like control... wrapped in sin. His tailored suit hugs his body perfectly, but it's his presence that steals the breath from my lungs.

My gaze travels up his chest to his face.

God.

His jaw is carved like stone. His lips are full and dangerously kissable. A neatly trimmed beard outlines his sharp features, and his dark hair is slicked back in a way that makes him look like he just stepped off the cover of a billionaire romance novel.

I blink.

This man could ruin me just by breathing in my direction.

He doesn't ask me what I want. He just orders. Like he already knows.

I shake my head quickly, trying to clear the heat rising in my cheeks.

"Oh... uh, thanks for the offer," I say, standing up too fast.

I need to get away from this man.

I try to move, but my heel snags on the hem of my dress.

Rip.

A sharp tear, the fabric gives way right at my hip.

I stagger on my feet, the room spins for a second too long. I feel myself falling, bracing for impact.

I shut my eyes.

But it never comes.

Instead, I feel strong arms catch me. My body stills.

I open my eyes... and my breath hitches.

Damn.

This man is sex wrapped in human form. His arms cradle me effortlessly. And when he looks down at me smiling my heart skips. A dimple appears on his cheek, deep and sinful, and all I want to do is taste it.

He looks like he belongs on the cover of every forbidden fantasy I've ever denied myself.

And I hate how my body reacts. Like it's forgotten Rowan's betrayal from moments ago.

'Get your mind out of the gutter, Solene.'

I shove the thought down and quickly pull away from him, like touching him any longer might set me on fire.

"You okay?" he asks, with his deep voice.

I shake my head slowly. Because I don't trust my voice.

If I open my mouth, I might just say, 'Take me.' 'Make me forget.'

'What is wrong with me?'

I just watched my husband propose to another woman. And now I'm melting at the sound of a stranger's voice?

This isn't me.

It has to be him. He cast a spell on me.

"Take this," he says, removing his suit jacket and handing it to me.

I stare as I accept it. My hands tremble slightly as I wrap it around my waist, covering the tear in my dress.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice barely above a breath.

He doesn't look away. "Let me take you to my suite upstairs."

"What?" I blink at him, startled.

"Your dress is torn," he says evenly. "You'll be more comfortable waiting in my suite. It's quiet. Private. I'll have someone bring you another dress."

My mouth opens, then closes again. I hesitate. Every part of me says this is a bad idea.

But then again....

"...Okay," I finally whispered.

People glance from a distance as we leave the corridor, but no one says a word. Either they don't care... or they know better than to question a man like him.

His steps are smooth.

Somewhere in my mind, a voice screams, leave, walk away, don't do this.

But I stay quiet.

I let him lead me to his suite.

And deep down... I know I'm crossing a line I can't uncross.

I should have turned around.

But broken hearts don't choose safety... They choose fire.