The Barista
- Reads 437
- Votes 43
- Parts 25
MatureOngoing3h 43m
Last published Sun, Sep 22, 2024
She's the most intelligent woman in the world. Except, she doesn't like to show it. She gets involved with one of the wealthiest families, causing one of their sons to fall hard for her.
"Elle." He says softly, his face turning a shade of red in my darkened room. Only the TV light illuminates us but it's enough to see every color and expression on his face. "What are you doing? I thought you said, 'just friends'?"
I swallow my nerves and nod. I feel shaky! I'm so nervously aroused that I am shaky, and I've never felt shaky from just sitting on a man's lap. I don't know what's about to happen. I don't even know if I'm going to sleep with him. But I'm not letting him leave without kissing him. And I think I know I would be lying to myself if I said this was only going to be a kiss. I'm so freaking aroused that I'm fighting the tremble inside of me and feel numb in my face.
"I did say, 'just friends.'. But sometimes I lie."
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They say betrayal never comes from your enemies. I used to think that was just something people said to feel better about their broken hearts. Until mine shattered too. The night it happened, everything changed. I lost my best friend. I lost my boyfriend. But worst of all... I lost myself. It's funny how a single moment can split your life into before and after. Before, I was the girl who believed in love, in loyalty, in forever. After, I was the girl standing in the ruins of what used to be her world, gasping for air, screaming into the silence, wondering why. Why me? Why now? Why them? So, I ran. Packed what was left of me and left the pieces behind-what else could I do? I moved cities. Moved in with my cousin. I told myself I needed a break, a fresh start. I told myself I wasn't looking for anyone. I was here to rebuild, quietly, carefully. Just me and the pain that still lived under my skin. But then... I saw him. At the club. Dark suit. Brooding eyes. Hands in his pockets like the world bowed at his feet. He didn't just walk in; he owned the room. The kind of man who didn't need to speak to be heard. I didn't know his name. I didn't know his story. But I felt his eyes on me like a touch that burned. He was power. He was danger. He was everything I told myself to avoid. But as fate would have it, the man who never chased anyone... noticed the broken girl who stopped believing in love. And maybe-just maybe-he'd be the one to help me believe again. This is the story of how I broke... And how he found every shattered piece.
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