Azalea Faye Larau - The sweetheart socialite with a fire underneath and an up and coming ballet dancer in London striving to stay afloat in an ocean of sharks, all the while dealing with heartbreak and loss.
Harlan Emeric Marchetti - The Italian Maf...
"Why couldn't I forget him and move on? Perhaps it was because all I ever knew was him."
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He spoke in that same daunting manner of his, dragging me to sit down next to him when Myles sat down too, utterly perplexed.
"Myles Blackwood. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Marchetti." He looked between the two of us, my disguised nervousness and Harlan's ease and calm which only seemed to be getting even more on my nerves.
What is he planning?
Scratch that, how is he even here?
"Fortunately, I can't say the same." Harlan said with no emotion at all when I cleared my throat a little.
"It's unfortunately." I muttered, not looking at him when he covered my hand on the table with his warm palm and I winced slightly at the firm grip, even though he wasn't hurting me.
"I know, butterfly, it was intended." He murmured, turning his face towards me to brush his lips on my temple and I held in my breath the whole time.
"Azzy told me you both met at a party." Myles suddenly spoke, keeping his calm and cool demeanour he kept on whenever he used to meet other socialites or in business meetings.
Although Myles was always confident even in front of the toughest people, I saw his his façade waver in the slightest, his eye contact break from the intensity of Harlan's before he swallowed and looked back at me.
"We did," Harlan answered and Myles nodded once, "Although she didn't say anything about a person named Milo."
"Myles." He corrected and Harlan cocked his head to a side.
"That's what I said." He spoke, as if challenging the man in front of him to say otherwise when Myles pursed his lips.
"What brings you to meet my wife?" Harlan asked when Myles looked between the two of us.
"Fiancé, Red." I corrected, forcing the words out but he simply ignored my clarification.
"We were jus catching up." I told him, squeezing Harlan's hand when Myles spoke up.
"We were actually just talking about you." He said and Harlan raised an expectant brow.
"Oh?"
Suddenly, my body froze as a mischievous and sly gleam flashed in Myles' eyes and my heart beat erratically in my chest. I knew what happened when Myles took up a challenge.
He gave his all just for a temporary victory, and the lengths he would go to while keeping up decorum and politeness amazed me as much as it displeased me.
What was the point of it all anyway?
But I wasn't worried for Harlan, no. I was worried for Myles, because as much as I hated to admit it, Harlan Marchetti was a remarkable and smart man. He was no idiot, and he certainly wouldn't let a young CEO take him down.
