Page 23 of My Ruthless Husband

I sit straight. “What?”

“Yes. That’s why I sent Derek to bring you.”

I glance at him who is sitting ahead in the passenger seat.

“Now I know what you’re thinking. Don’t pester him with questions. He won’t reveal anything.”

“But dad, I’m not ready. I need to know the location to pack and—”

“Everything has been taken care of.”

“Okay,” I mumble. When he hangs up, I scoot to the edge of the back seat and peer at Derek silently.

“Derek—” I start but he just shakes his head, and I scoot back, grumbling.

He’s loyal at heart. It’s useless to convince him to spill the beans. Plugging my AirPods in, I close my eyes and enjoy the music.

???

Today is a bad day. It has to be because when we reached the airport. We couldn’t fly because of the bad weather.

Dad was in a terrible mood because he was stuck in his office. And I was just bummed. I didn’t much care about the vacation. I just wanted to see Dad.

We end up going to a hotel near the airport. Although we have a private jet, and can fly any time, Dad insisted on flying out as soon as the weather settles. And to avoid the unnecessary hassle of moving to and from our mansion, he suggested we stay at a hotel nearby instead.

So here I am, in the lobby of a luxurious hotel, waiting for Derek who’s at the front desk.

I stroll over to the wall of mirrors, giving myself a once-over. My light blue puff-sleeved sundress, which hits just above the knee, is slightly rumpled from the long drive. I smooth out the wrinkles, my fingers tracing the soft fabric. My dark brown curls, secured in a messy bun atop my crown, have begun to unravel, with a few stray tendrils framing my face and grazing my neck. I tuck a few behind my ears.

As I smooth out the last wrinkle on my sleeve, my gaze drifts up to the mirror, and that’s when I see him. My lips part in shock, my eyes widening in stunned surprise. Time seems to freeze, my hand hovering in mid-air as if suspended by an invisible thread. My breath catches in my throat, and for a moment, I forget how to exhale.

It’s him.

He is here.

The mere sight of him makes my heart stutter. My first kiss, the one person who’s haunted my thoughts since my eighteenth birthday. The man who left me with a bittersweet ache in mychest. Those piercing onyx eyes have invaded my dreams every night for two years, refusing to let me go.

I spin around, my legs trembling beneath me, as if my body can’t keep up with my eagerness. And then, I see him again—really see him—standing there and I know it’s not just a dream.

Itishim.

Damian.

He stands tall and intimidating in a crisp black button-up and black trousers. From where I stand, only his side profile is visible, but it’s more than enough to confirm my suspicions. The sharp lines of his face are etched in my memory forever—the straight nose, the high cheekbones, and that strong, chiseled jaw. Every feature is unmistakably his, and my heart skips a beat.

As he listens intently to the phone call, his fingers rake through his silky dark hair, the gesture sending a shiver down my spine. The frown etched on his face is ridiculously attractive, making my heart stumble. It’s really him! The man I’d impulsively kissed that night.

Memories of that night come flooding back. I often wonder how differently things would have played out if I’d restrained myself. But I don’t regret that kiss. What I regret is the awkwardness that followed. The way he’d wordlessly escorted me out of the woods, his expression unreadable. The memory still makes my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Be good.” He had said gruffly, his eyes lingering on me for a moment before he turned and vanished into the darkness. I’d been left standing there, feeling bewildered and embarrassed, with no way to track him down. I didn’t even know his last name.

Despite my aversion to social events, I’d attended every single one, scanning the crowds with a mixture of hope and desperation, praying that I’d catch a glimpse of him again. But itseemed my luck had run out. Months turned into years, and I’d all but given up on the possibility of ever seeing him again.

The rational part of my mind had long given up on the possibility of ever crossing paths with him again. But my romantic side? That part of me had refused to let go, spinning a million different scenarios, imagining countless ways our paths might intersect again. It had fueled a hope that had burned bright and true in my heart, refusing to be extinguished.

And here he is.

Damian.

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