DARKEST DESIRES

6

♡♡MONET♡♡

"You believe some piece of shit? A picture?!" Christian’s voice shatters the silence, echoing off the surrounding buildings.

Tears pour down my face, my body shaking with uncontrollable sobs. The ache in my chest is unbearable, a mixture of anger, hurt, and betrayal. How could he deny the truth? "Stop fucking lying to me, Christian," I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. My head is pounding, eyes burning from the hours of crying that haven't stopped.

The fresh air is a small comfort, but it does little to ease the suffocating pain. Maybe it’s better I found out like this. Over a year together, and he's been lying to me all along. He’s been with five other girls, and I had no clue.

"I can’t do this anymore," I sob, my voice cracking under the weight of it all. "I just can't." My palms press to my face as if it might shield me from the truth. I can't look at him anymore.

"Are you breaking up with me?" Christian asks, his tone a mix of anger and desperation.

I nod, my gaze still fixed on the ground. "Yes," I whisper, the word barely escaping my lips.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me that," he demands, his voice cold and detached.

I force myself to meet his gaze, but his eyes are empty—no remorse, no sympathy. Just a coldness that cuts deeper than anything I’ve felt. My subconscious taunts me, You knew this was coming, Monet. You’re so stupid. I push the thought aside, summoning every ounce of strength I have left to stand tall.

"I don’t want this anymore. We are done," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, but it’s final.

He sneers, "You can’t be serious. You can’t even last a second without me, Monet." His arrogance ignites something deep inside me.

"You think I can’t?" I repeat, my voice rising with newfound strength. My eyes lock onto his, unwavering. I'm done being the one who hurts. The one who’s vulnerable.

---

♤♡DARREN◇♧

The old man calls me nearly every day, but it’s never been a hassle. I enjoy his company—and the bonus is that I get to see Monet, too. Today, as I step out of my car, I notice them on the porch. But this time, something’s different. Monet's crying, her face twisted in pain as she yells at Christian. He stands there, emotionless, watching her with a coldness that makes my blood boil.

I walk closer, listening to their words, though I’m not trying to pry. But I can't help but get pulled into the drama unfolding right in front of me.

"Leave me alone, Christian. I never want to see you again," Monet's voice cracks as she speaks through her tears.

I raise an eyebrow. Seems like the facade's finally crumbled. Christian’s always been a prick, so it’s no surprise that Monet’s had enough.

"You’re just saying that," Christian says with a smirk, his tone oozing arrogance. "You’ll come crawling back to me."

I can’t help but feel a spike of annoyance. Normally, I wouldn’t waste a second on someone like him, but the sight of Monet—vulnerable and hurting—makes it hard to ignore. I should mind my own business, but I’m already involved.

Christian glances my way, throwing me a glare, but I don’t care. I walk over to Monet, who’s still crying, her fists pressed against her face. The sight of her fragile state makes something inside me twist.

Without a second thought, I wrap my arms around her waist, feeling her body stiffen in surprise. She’s trembling, like a bird that’s been caught in a storm. "Let’s go inside," I whisper in her ear, trying to soothe her.

"Oh, this is how it is, huh?" Christian sneers. I ignore him, not interested in giving him the satisfaction of a response.

"...and you act so innocent, Monet. You’re a fucking—" He’s cut off as I let go of Monet and gently guide her toward the door. She nods quickly, hurrying inside without a word.

Christian’s eyes narrow, his gaze sharp as he turns on me. "Luciano," he growls, his voice dripping with venom. His words strike a chord, reminding me too much of his father.

"You should leave," I tell him, my voice firm and calm. "You’re the one who’s been lying to her, betraying her trust. Not her."

I shake my head. This really isn’t my business, but I’ve already stepped in, so there's no turning back now. I take one last look at the door before stepping inside.

---

As I enter, I find Mr. Jackson sitting in a room, a thick rope in his hand. It’s as if he doesn’t even notice the storm that just passed outside. "There you are," he chuckles. "Thought you’d be stuck in meetings."

"I rescheduled," I shrug. "Wasn’t important. My secretary can handle it."

Mr. Jackson nods, still oblivious to my thoughts. "How’s Meghan?" he asks casually.

"She’s fine," I answer, my mind still on Monet. That scene outside lingers in my head, gnawing at me.

"Good to hear," he replies, unaware of my distraction.

"Can you give me a hand with something at the ranch?" Mr. Jackson asks, folding the rope in his hands.

"Of course," I answer, following him outside, but my eyes flicker back toward the window. I know it’s silly—there’s no way I could see her through the walls—but I can't help the thought.

<<>>

Things fall apart, nothing breaks like a heart>; Miley Cyrus.

Please don't forget to (☆)