Chapter One
I try to push the unease out of my mind as I round a corner, but it’s persistent, clawing at the edges of my thoughts.
The sharp winter air of Paris pierces through my coat, sending a shiver down my spine, The wind tosses stray strands of hair into my eyes. I shove one behind my ear, forcing my feet to move faster. The urge to glance over my shoulder claws at me, but I grit my teeth and keep my gaze forward.
No one’s following me . I keep telling myself that, like a broken record.
They don’t know where I am.
He doesn’t know where I am.
Or does he? My steps falter, an icy cold dread settling in my chest. No, Damian doesn’t know.
The whole reason I picked Paris was because it’s my favorite place in the world. And that’s exactly why I thought it was the perfect hiding spot. Damian knows how much I adore this city—he’d never expect me to stay somewhere so obvious. No one would. Who’s foolish enough to hide in the one place everyone associates with them? By choosing Paris, I thought I was outsmarting him.
But what if I was wrong? What if Damian knows me better than I thought? What if he’s already here, waiting for me to slip up?
Because for the past hour, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Every few minutes, the hairs on my neck bristled, my instincts screaming at me to run, to hide. But every time I turned to scan the streets, I found nothing. Just tourists with their cameras, locals rushing past. Ordinary. Safe.
Until it wasn’t.
A figure caught my eye—just a glimpse at first. A man in a dark suit slipping through the crowd, his movements too deliberate, too familiar. My pulse spiked as my gaze locked on him for a fleeting second, and my stomach dropped.
Hal.
Damian’s chief of security.
It had to be him. The way he moved, the breadth of his shoulders, the subtle menace in his stride—it was unmistakable.
I was terrified. The kind of fear that seeps into your bones and locks you in place, paralyzing every instinct to move. For a few beats, I couldn’t even breathe. The mere thought of being caught by him—of being dragged back—made my skin crawl, my chest tighten until I felt like I might shatter.
But I couldn’t let fear win. Even with my heart racing and my legs trembling, I knew I had to be sure. I had to know if the man I saw was really Hal.
Because if it was, then Damian was already one step ahead of me.
So to confirm, I followed that man but he turned out to be someone else.
It’s been a week since I ran. A week since I slipped out of the life that felt more like a cage than a marriage. Maybe that’s all this is—paranoia. My fear playing tricks on me, twisting shadows into threats and strangers into ghosts from my past.
After everything I’ve endured, it’s no surprise my mind is conjuring up dangers where there are none. Spending a year trapped in a marriage that felt more like a prison leaves its scars. Maybe that’s why I thought I saw Hal. For a moment, I let my fear convince me he was here.
But he wasn’t. That man wasn’t Hal.
It’s just my fear.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to force the thoughts away.
You’re okay, River. You’re miles away from him.
But it’s useless.
Damian’s presence has haunted every moment of this week. I’ve tried so damn hard to shut him out, to bury him in the depths of my mind. But no matter how much I try, he’s always there, lingering like a dark cloud, just behind my thoughts.
Still rattled, I push open the door to the first bar I see, almost stumbling as I rush inside, desperate to drown out the noise of my own thoughts.
Dread fades with the first glass of wine and paranoia disappears by the third.
“Is this seat taken?”
I turn my head, surprised to find a tall, handsome man standing way too close. My eyes widen, caught off guard by how near he is.
My worried gaze darts around. It’s reckless of him to approach me, let alone lean in with that flirtatious smile.
When he lingers, waiting for my response, it hits me—I’m in Paris. Away from Damian’s reach. Away from his bodyguards. The bodyguards who would’ve torn this man apart by now, made him regret even breathing in my direction.
This further proves I was just being paranoid earlier. Because if Hal were here, there’s no way this stranger would be standing so close.
“Um… no.” I answer finally, not missing how he avoided the other vacant stools.
His gray eyes glint as he slides on the stool beside me, evidently ignoring the awkwardness in my tone.
“Clément,” he says smoothly, extending his hand.
I force a tight smile, slipping my hand into his briefly. “Raven,” I lie.
I remain quiet as he orders gin and tonic for himself in fluent French. When he offers to buy me a refill, I politely decline.
“So what brings you here?” He asks, his accent thick as he takes a sip of his drink.
“I’m on the run.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”
I nod slowly.
“You’re running from the law?”
I smile wryly at that. “No. Just from my lawfully wedded husband.”
The silence after my confession lasts for about a minute before he bursts out laughing. “You had me there.” Then he motions to my bare ring finger. “You have a great sense of humor.”
When I remain silent, he speaks again. “No, seriously. What are you doing here? Are you a tourist traveling alone?”
“Something like that. What about you?”
“Born and raised here. I…” His sentence trails off as his phone buzzes, cutting through the conversation. He slips a hand into his pocket, retrieving it. “Sorry, just a moment,” he says before bringing the phone to his ear.
But I’m already miles away in my head. My thoughts are pulling me under, dragging me to the one question that’s been pestering me—what now? Where do I go from here? I can’t keep running, constantly looking over my shoulder. This isn’t life.
And then, as if summoned by my despair, Damian’s face flashes in my mind. Breathtakingly beautiful but cold. The man I fell hopelessly in love with at first sight when I was just eighteen.
For four years, I’ve loved him but that wasn’t enough. I believed he could give me the love I’d craved my whole life.
He was my first love. My first everything. I gave him all of my love. And like the cruel unforgiving man he is, he took and took until I was empty.
He was the only person who made me feel like I wasn’t completely alone in this world. But I was wrong. Love wasn’t enough to reach him. I wasn’t enough.
I left everything behind for him—my father, my home, the comfort of my old life—and for what? To sit here now, broken and questioning every decision I’ve made.
Damian was supposed to be my safe place, my beginning and end. But instead, he’s the one who taught me what real loneliness feels like.
And yet, even after all of it, I can’t stop loving him.
Even after knowing he never loved me, I can’t stop loving him. My eyes brim with tears, and I swallow the lump in my throat, hating how weak I feel. I hate myself for this endless, foolish devotion to a man who barely cares.
At the mention of my name—well, the fake one I gave him—I glance his way, blinking back the tears. He’s still on the phone, leaning back in his seat, his words rolling off in French like he’s barely paying attention to the conversation.
He says something that makes me cock a brow. He catches my eye and holds up a finger, switching to English. “One minute,” he tells me with a lazy grin.
“Sorry about that,” he says after ending the call.
“Everything okay?”
He gives a small shrug. “Just a friend. He was wondering where I disappeared to.”
“Disappeared?”
He nods toward the back of the room. “See the group over there? The one in the white shirt?”
I follow his gaze, twisting slightly in my seat to look. My eyes land on a group of men, loud and animated. And then I spot the man in white shirt with light hair. “The blond?”
“Yep. It’s his bachelor’s party and I’m the best man.”
I look back at Clément. “Shouldn’t you be with him?”
“I should,” he admits, his lips curling into a smirk, “but when I saw a beautiful girl sitting alone, I couldn’t resist offering her my company.”
“Who said I wanted company? I have it right here.” I motion to my drink.
“I promise I’m far better company than a glass of wine.”
“Is that so?”
“ Oui .” He grins.
I shake my head, half amused, half exasperated. Narrowing my eyes, I ask, “By the way, I heard my name while you were on the phone. What was that about?”
“Oh, that?” He waves a hand dismissively. “I just told him who I was sitting with.”
“Right.” I narrow my gaze even further. “Pretty sure it sounded like ‘Raven is hot as hell, and if you cockblock me, I’ll tell your fiancé you wanted to go to a strip club.’”
His eyes widen in shock. “You speak French?”
“ Oui, ” I say, taking a slow sip of my wine, my lips curving into a sardonic smile.
Recovering quickly from his shock, he says, “I like your smile.” When he flashes me a slow, deliberate smile, heat creeps up my neck. Embarrassed, I quickly avert my gaze.
“Shy.” His tone is teasing as his lips curl into a wolfish smirk. “I don’t usually go for the shy ones, but for you, I might make an exception.”
My head snaps toward him, disbelief plastered across my face. The warm buzz of alcohol loosens my tongue, pushing my irritation to the surface. “You’re ridiculously full of yourself,” I bite out.
“Confident,” he counters with a shrug, completely unfazed.
I take a breath, forcing calm. “Look,” I say, keeping my tone firm but civil, “I’m not interested. I’m not here for a hookup or whatever it is you’re after. I just want to enjoy my drink and some peace. So, really, you’re wasting your time.”
I plan to divorce my husband—that much is certain but that’s not why I shut Clément down. It has nothing to do with me being legally tied to Damian and everything to do with the fact that I can’t bear the thought of another man touching me. My heart still belongs to him, even if he never wanted it. It still aches for him, beats for him, no matter how much I wish it didn’t. The idea of using someone else to drown out those feelings feels wrong on every level. That’s not who I am, and never will be.
“That’s a shame, I won’t lie.” He sighs dramatically but stays put, showing no sign of leaving. “But hey, maybe I can still keep you company.”
“I really don’t think—”
He raises his hands, cutting me off. “Relax, I promise. No more flirting. Just two people hanging out. It’s gotta be better than sitting here all alone, right?”
I narrow my eyes, studying him. “You seriously want to hang out with me?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because I just told you—”
“That you’re not interested. Yeah, I heard you loud and clear.” He smirks, leaning back on his stool like he’s making himself at home. “But here’s the thing—I don’t want to leave you here all by yourself. Plus, having me around might work in your favor.”
When he waggles his eyebrows, I snort. “And how’s that?”
“No one’s gonna dare bother you if they think you’re with me. I’ve got that don’t mess with her vibe, you know?”
I can’t help the small laugh that escapes me.
“And,” he adds with exaggerated pride, “I’m great company. I’ll keep you entertained, help you forget whatever’s weighing on your mind. I’m the talker of the group.”
His goofy grin actually manages to pull a smile from me. Against all odds, I feel a bit lighter.
An hour drifts by, and I finally decide it’s time to call it a night. Rising from my stool, I turn to Clément with a small grateful smile. “Thanks for the company.”
“Anytime, Raven,” he replies with an easy grin.
I bid Clément goodbye before leaving the bar. As I step out, the cool night air washes over me.
True to his word, Clément had been a perfect gentleman. No flirty comments, no unwelcome advances—just endless, fun-filled conversations. He shared stories about his travels.
For a little while, I was able to forget everything.
He didn’t even ask for my number when we said goodbye. It was such a rare, simple kindness that it caught me off guard. I’d forgotten how refreshing it could be to meet someone who didn’t want anything in return. Clément was one of the good ones.
The walk back to my hotel suite feels unusually calm, the buzz from the wine dulling the chaos in my head. My thoughts, so loud all evening, have finally quieted. My feet stumble slightly, not entirely steady on the heels I regretted wearing hours ago.
At the door, it takes me a few tries to unlock it. I’m successful at last and push the door open, stepping into the dark suite with a tired sigh.
I toss my handbag onto the table, my jacket lands haphazardly on the couch. All I want is a hot shower to wash off the night, but exhaustion wins out. So I’m just going to wipe my makeup off and crawl into bed. That’s all I can manage right now.
With one hand braced on the couch, I lean down to pull off my heels, wincing slightly at the ache in my arches. The cool carpet soothes my bare feet as I straighten up, my body swaying slightly from the leftover buzz of the alcohol.
I’m halfway to the bedroom when my toe catches on something. I stumble, catching myself on the doorframe before I fall. I survey the object on the floor and frown. Because I see nothing.
That’s when the darkness registers. I forgot to hit the lights. Heaving a sigh, I feel my way inside the bedroom toward the light switch on the wall.
I reach for the light switch, but my fingers falter as unease creeps over me. The air feels different now, heavier, like something is watching me.
Awareness prickles at the back of my neck.
I turn and freeze. My breath catches in my throat. A man is sitting in the armchair by the window, shrouded in shadows.
I blink rapidly and shake my head to clear it. When the large figure sitting in the chair doesn’t fade, my heart slams against my ribcage, pounding a mile a minute. I reach up and hit the lights.
I gasp loudly, taking a hasty step back and colliding with the wall behind me.
“Hello, angel,” my husband says, his voice deep. “Did you have a good time without me?”