West drives impossibly closer, parking just an inch beside me. The wind from his sudden stop sends my hair flying to the side, tangling it in my sticky lip gloss. I clench my teeth, trying to maintain the remnants of my smile, no matter how difficult it is. Slowly, I reach up to unstick my hair from my lips, annoyance flaring up inside me like a boiling kettle as I take a few steps aside, as if it’ll prevent what has already happened.
I remember he owns a bike, but he hardly ever uses it, opting for cars instead. His decision to appear this way demonstrates how much he enjoys getting under my fucking skin.
He takes off his helmet, revealing a messy tangle of slightly damp hair, earning applause and whistles from the crowd, who have completely forgotten about me. Today, he strays from his usual look, trading his standard black suit for a vintage leather jacket. It’s almost as if he’s out to remind everyone of his real sense of style. People joke that he was born inthatsuit, but in truth, he has a remarkable eye for fashion. I’ve seen him in vintage pieces like this a few times, and, as much as I hate him, I can’t deny that the fucker knows how to dress.
“Oh, no, no, no,” he taunts, flashing a satisfied smile as he surveys the crowd, clearly reveling in their reaction. “You guys, I’m so sorry you had to wait?—”
He can’t even finish his sentence; the screams grow louder, drowning him out as he hops off his bike and strides toward me. His eyes stay glued to them as he waves, and my body stiffens when he stands beside me—definitely closer than he needs to. I swallow hard, the confidence I had just moments ago evaporating without a trace.
He sucks all the oxygen from my lungs when he wraps one hand around my shoulders, his fingers encircling the spot where Dad had squeezed me a couple of minutes ago. I close my eyes, bracing for more pain, but instead, he brushes his fingers lightly over my arm—a tender gesture that sends a ripple up my spine.
“You are our he-roes!” someone screams, drawing out the last word for emphasis. “Fucking legends!”
West points at the person who yelled, staying well clear of the mic. “Youare the real legends,” he shouts back, his wide smile never leaving his face.
He bends slightly to lean closer to me, but we’re still not eye to eye. We never will be. I’m usually indifferent to his height, but not now. Right now, he feels fucking threatening, and it spreads an unusual warmth through my core.
“Fucking cocksuckers,” he whispers, just loud enough for me to hear. The words sound strange coming from him, with that smile still plastered on his face.
I bite my upper lip to suppress a smile and a giggle that threatens to spill out. It almost makes me feel sorry for these clueless idiots. “I’ve been here for some time,” I say, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably. My voice wavers for some unknown reason, and the corners of my lips keep twitching upward.
West turns to me, scanning my face as if we’re alone in a crowded space. I’m frozen, unable to blink while he studies me, his expression unreadable. “Oh, yeah?” he asks, the nonchalance in his tone palpable. “But that didn’t kill you, did it?”
Disappointment immediately replaces my amusement, and as soon as his hand leaves my shoulder, I glance down, a prickle of something unfamiliar slicing through me. He almost made me believe he could be different.
He takes the mic from its stand and starts speaking, but I’m beyond hearing him. My chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as I blink a few times, trying to ground myself. He always manages to provoke this reaction in me—a reaction I’ll never fully understand. It feels like I’m losing the game whenever he’s around.
“As an heir to a legacy in real estate, I’ve always known that our work extends beyond just constructing buildings. It’s about fostering communities, creating opportunities, and, above all, demonstrating leadership. No one embodies that philosophy better than our CEO—” He pauses for dramatic effect. “My father, Lucas Reyes. He has led this company for over thirty years, transforming it from a regional player into a national powerhouse?—”
I have to hand it to him—he’s fucking good. The way he talks about his father makes it seem like he genuinely admires him.But it doesn’t take a genius to see through their relationship. Our frequent meetings have revealed everything I need to know.
In truth, he hates him. I don’t know why, nor do I care. But the passion with which he speaks, his body language, the gleam in his eyes, and the slight crack in his voice—all of it convinces everyone that he loves him.
Impressive, I’ll admit. So impressive that it completely steals the spotlight from me. I scan the crowd, noting how every gaze is fixed on him—not on me.
They look like they’re hypnotized, and maybe they truly are. The men are interested in the business he blabbers about, while the women—most of them—seem ready to drop to their knees right here and worship him. I’m not exaggerating; I can practically see drool spilling from their mouths as they gaze up at him.
Of course. It’s not just any man; it’s West Reyes—a mysterious rich man everyone wants to jump on.
It annoys me, but it also reveals something important. The whole purpose of our gathering today is to deliver this speechtogetherand draw attention to the campaign we’re launching. I was prepared to change the narrative, but he’s ruined everything. Right now, he’s sharing his own thoughts, completely ignoring my presence. I can only imagine how I must look standing beside him like a statue, unable to utter a word.
He thinks he’s clever, able to rewrite the rules as he pleases. But we mustn’t forget why we’re gathered in the first place. I couldn’t care less about his father’s accomplishments or the business he’s built over the years. Those thoughts are nothing more than background noise—noise I’m desperate to silence.
A surge of confidence washes over me, sparking an idea that takes root and blossoms like a flower in the sun. Our parents want the public to embrace the idea of us, along with the nonsense Lucas plans to serve them.
So now, I’m tempted to create the perfect fucking image.
Without considering the consequences, I step closer to him, narrowing the space between us. He continues speaking, his voice rising, emotions spilling onto his face as the sugar-coated lies pour from his lips. West doesn’t stop—not until my trembling hand reaches for his jawline. His eyes, usually so icy, snap to mine, now filled with confusion. I can sense the crowd’s attention shift to me—finally—and that gives me the last push.
Rising onto my tiptoes, I close my eyes and press my lips to his.Just a quick touch, I think. I don’t want to disgust myself more than necessary.
But I can’t pull back. I wait for him to do so, to jump back and make a joke out of the moment, to humiliate me like every other man in my life has done. I brace myself for that reaction, but it never comes. Nor does the disgust I was ready to feel. My knees weaken as he responds to the kiss, his lips attacking mine with a passion that feels almost surreal.
The crowd falls completely silent, and it seems like the entire world has collapsed around us, leaving only crumbled remnants behind. His hand slips around my waist, pulling me closer, and I lose the last shred of my sanity. People erupt into loud, frenzied cheers, with whistles and screams that make me flinch. He tightens his grip on my waist, his tongue prying my mouth open and wrapping around mine, kissing me with such force and desire as if it’s something he’s been dreaming of for years.
An electric jolt courses through my body, and I grow tired of standing on my tiptoes like a complete idiot. I try to retreat, to pull my lips away, but he won’t let me go. Instead, he intensifies the kiss, ravaging my senses and teasing my skin with his teeth, as if he’s determined to consume me alive.
A strangled whimper rips from my throat, muffled by his mouth. My lungs constrict painfully, as if an unseen force is squeezing the air from them, leaving me breathless.
