Chasing the Flame

CHAPTER TWO

KIMBERLY

It's hard to forget the pain but it's even harder to remember sweetness. Its been said- "Time will heal the pain", I do not agree with that, the wounds remain right where it hurt and in time the mind protects its sanity covering them with scar tissues and the pain lessens but never goes away completely.

POV

"Wait! Please wait!" I shouted, my voice straining as I sprinted toward the bus stop. But the driver didn't hear me. Just as I was within reach, the door shut with a mechanical hiss, and the bus pulled away.

"No!" I groaned, panting heavily, my frustration mounting. Trembling, I stood there, catching my breath, realizing I was going to have to wait another 30 minutes for the next bus. A sinking feeling crept in—I'd be late again.

Three times in a row. My boss had already been on edge, and this time, there would be no leniency. This job was the only thing holding my family together, and losing it would mean everything falling apart.

The next bus finally arrived, and as the doors opened, I stepped on in a daze. I fumbled into my bag to check the time on my phone but couldn't find it. Frantically, I dug deeper, tossing aside my wallet, jewelry, powder, even my calculator. Still no phone.

Damn! I must've left it on the couch. "Such a clumsy fool," I muttered, my voice barely audible.

The woman beside me cleared her throat, her lips curling into a small, amused grin. I scratched my forehead awkwardly, offering her a weak smile, embarrassed at my own disarray.

After what felt like forever, the bus reached its destination. The doors opened, and I stepped out, rubbing my forehead, slick with sweat. My heart raced as I glanced at the clock—it was already 8:40.

"Shit," I whispered. Panic gripped me. My boss would not grant me another chance. Not this time. I tugged at my rumpled shirt, adjusted my trousers, and ruffled my hair, trying to make myself presentable. At least I'd look decent while facing my impending humiliation.

As I entered the office, the first person I encountered was my boss's overly flirtatious secretary. She blew a bubble with her gum and popped it, batting her ridiculously long eyelashes, which seemed in danger of falling off.

"The boss wants to see you—now!" she sneered, her grin widening as if she relished the moment. Then, with a flick of her hair, she sauntered away.

My heart sank. Each step toward his office felt like a march to my own doom. My hands shook, my legs felt like lead, and my mind scrambled for an excuse I hadn't already used a hundred times. But what could I say? The truth—that my boyfriend had put me in this mess? That wouldn't make a difference.

I took a deep breath, clearing my throat, the events of last night flashing through my mind and making me feel even more nauseous.

"Good morning, sir," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't look up, his fingers tapping on the desk, his face expressionless but charged with discomfort. Silence filled the room like a weight pressing down on me.

"Morning, sir," I tried again, hoping to break the tension.

This time, his eyes flicked up to meet mine, his face filled with a mix of emotions I couldn't quite read. It would've been easier if I knew what he was feeling—anger, disappointment, disdain?

"You're fired, Miss Stafford."

His words hit me like a physical blow, echoing in my mind. Fired. The room seemed to blur, my vision clouding as tears welled up in my eyes. Time froze. All I wanted in that moment was for the earth to swallow me whole.

I stood there, paralyzed, my thoughts spinning in every direction.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" His voice was sharp now, cutting through the haze. "You're fired, Miss Stafford. You've been a complete nuisance to this company."

His words stung, and I could barely hold back the tears as I turned and bolted out of the office. I didn't want anyone to see me fall apart, but my emotions had already overtaken me. My mind raced. What now? Where could I possibly go from here? I couldn't return to the woman I once was—lost, drifting.

How was I supposed to face my mother? My boyfriend? My world had shattered in an instant.

My thoughts flashed back to last night, the memories clawing at my mind, making my head ache.

Where would I find another job? My bachelor's degree in psychology was half-complete, and no one would hire me, not after being fired. This small company had been the only one willing to give me a chance, and I'd ruined it. I'd blown it all.

As these thoughts stormed through my mind, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, and suddenly, my body collided with something—someone—solid. I felt dizzy from the impact, and before I could stumble, strong arms wrapped around me, steadying me.

I looked up, and my breath caught in my throat.

His eyes—piercing blue—were studying me, meticulously. His arms felt warm, almost comforting, but I was too shaken to fully register what was happening.

"W-what the hell?" I snapped, more out of reflex than anything else, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up my neck.

"You bumped into me," he replied, his voice calm yet amused. His nonchalance only irritated me more.

I couldn't deny it—he was strikingly good-looking. Rugged features, a perfectly chiseled body. He smelled like expensive cologne mixed with something deeper, muskier. I almost got lost in the moment, his arms still holding me, but the weight of my day crushed down on me again, snapping me back to reality.

"Are you always this clumsy?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips, clearly enjoying himself.

Clumsy? I could feel my temper flaring. "Excuse me? You weren't watching where you were going, Mr. Arrogant."

"Mr. Arrogant?" he repeated, folding his arms, the muscles in his tanned arms bulging under his shirt, annoyingly sexy.

I glared at him, my arms crossed, frustration bubbling up. "Yeah, Mr. Arrogant. How about you watch where you're going next time?"

He grinned, clearly not bothered by my words. His gaze remained fixed on me as I turned to walk away, feeling his eyes follow me down the street.

Three years earlier...

The club pulsed with energy, neon lights flashing red and green, cutting through the dim room as the music thumped with heavy bass. Men lined the edges of the dance floor, their eyes glued to the stage, where I wrapped myself around the pole, moving in time with the beat.

I swung my legs effortlessly, the rhythm of the music guiding my every move. I could feel their stares—hungry, desperate—following my every motion as I teased the crowd, bending and twisting my body, giving them a show they couldn't resist.

Bills rained down, littering the stage, but I barely noticed. My eyes were fixed on someone in the back—a man with intense blue eyes and a rugged look. He watched me with a focus unlike the rest of them, and something about him made my skin tingle.

I arched my back and slid down the pole in a smooth, sultry move, never breaking eye contact with him. His stare didn't waver, and I couldn't help but want more of his attention.

I smirked, knowing I had him hooked.

This was my game.