Page 152 of Scattered Glitter

She practically laughed in my face the one time I told her what I actually wanted to do with my life. She called it a waste ofgood blood.

And maybe she’s right. Maybe the only thing I’m meant to be is some placeholder in her empire, disappointing her quietly and dutifully for the rest of my life. Still, I imagine it sometimes. I dream about running a shop similar to the one I’ve parked in front of, with sunflowers and bundles of lilacs filling the windows. It’s small, nothing special, really. The people inside look calm, at peace, as if they’re doing what they actually want to be doing. No obligations, no gilded bars.

The gym door swings open, and my pulse ticks up, but it’s not her. Some guy in a hoodie steps out, and I exhale slowly, gripping the steering wheel. I’m acting like an idiot.She’s probably forgotten about me, written me off as just another rich asshole.

It’s then I realize my newfound fascination is because she’s nothing like the people I usually meet. People who smile too wide and speak too carefully, always angling for something—money, power, access. People like me, who’ve spent their lives wrapped in gold chains, doing what’s expected because stepping out of line means losing everything.

She didn’t have any of that. No pretenses, no hidden agenda. Just sass, sharp wit, and a spark of something I can’t name but don’t want to stop chasing.

In this city, everything’s a façade. Every handshake, every smile, every so-called friendly glance is tainted with an ulterior motive. Even the people closest to me, hell, especially them, are just as fake as the bright lights plastered over the Strip.

But her… I don’t know. It’s as though she’s immune to the pull of it all. Something is real behind her eyes and the sass, some spark that pulls me in without even trying.

A sedan with an Uber decal on the windshield pulls up, and the girl I’ve been obsessing over since she left my sight steps out, looking effortlessly stunning, even in workout gear, which shouldn’t be allowed to look that good. There’s something about the way she moves, those green eyes and the long, dark hair framing a face so beautiful she almost feels unreal.Angelic. She’s something out of a dream, and damn if a simple glimpse of her doesn’t make my heart race a little faster.

But an Uber? That doesn’t sit right. I know for a fact that Koen has at least six cars in his garage. Why would that dickhead let her get an Uber to get around?

The thought irritates me more than it should. I have no reason to care, no claim to her, but dammit, I do. She’salready lodged herself in my brain, and there’s no shaking her loose.

Even thinking Koen’s name has my teeth grinding together and that usual pang of irritation and hurt twisting in my chest.

My only real friend. Or he was, until he flipped like all the others, becoming another name on the list of people I thought I could trust.

And he’s apparently her family.

Shit.

I shove the disappointment down deep where it belongs, the same with him. I shouldn’t care. But hell, some things get under the skin and stay there for years, whether I want them to or not.

I grab my gym bag, tossing my sunglasses onto the passenger seat before stepping out of the car. My heart pounds as I walk toward the building, more nervous than I’ve been in years. It’s not a feeling I’m used to. However, the way she made me feel like I wasn’t drowning for the first time in forever is worth risking a little humiliation.

Taking my time, I stop to pay for a workout, ignoring the confused look of the receptionist who saw me come in the first time, and head into the changing rooms. Since I didn’t make it to this point when I came in earlier, I quickly change, my pulse ticking faster than I’d care to admit as I return to the workout area.

Spotting Rosie in the weight section, headphones on, focused entirely on the weights in front of her, I almost hesitate. She appears so at ease and in her element. What if I ruin this for her? What if she comes here to have some fucking peace and quiet, and I’m here to talk her up like a creep?

Then she glances up, catching sight of me out of the corner of her eye, and everything else falls away. Her smilelights up the room, and just like that, the world feels a little less heavy.

“Hey,” she greets, pulling her headphones around her neck.

I clear my throat, scrambling for something to say, and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, “Would you rather have to wear wet socks for a year or have everything you eat taste like protein powder forever?”

Her laugh is quiet but genuine, and the sound goes straight to my chest, like a spark catching kindling. “Who says I’m not into protein powder?” she counters teasingly, and there’s a spark in her green eyes that makes it hard to remember why I felt so ridiculous sitting in my car like a stalker. “You work out here too?”

“From time to time,” I lie smoothly.

“Right.” Her gaze flicks over me, assessing me like she’s trying to decide if I’m full of shit. “Let me guess, your gym just happens to be full today?”

Fuck. Busted.“I just like to go here when the hotel gym’s overrun with tourists. Only I’ve never seen you here.”

“I’m usually here in the mornings.” She adjusts her grip on the weights, focusing on her hands.

“Why don’t you train at the gym in the mansion?”

She glances back up at me with a bit of surprise, as if she didn’t expect me to know there’s one. But that fucking mansion was my second home once. “I’m not living with them.”

That’s… strange.

“Why not?”

---