Naomi Madden, a renowned fashion designer, attends an upscale award ceremony celebrating her latest collection. Amidst the glitz and glamour, her past comes crashing back when she locks eyes with Ace, her long-lost ex-boyfriend who vanished six year...
We're here," Luca announced as he pulled up in front of Aubrey's mother's house.
"Okay, thank you," I replied, and Amara and I stepped out as the car came to a stop. I retrieved her bag from the backseat, packed with clothes and essentials for her sleepover with Aubrey—something she had eagerly anticipated.
Together, we walked up to the front door. "You excited?" I asked Amara.
"Yeah," she answered with a bright smile, which mirrored my own.
I knocked on the door, and Aubrey's voice called out from inside, "Come in."
Entering, I closed the door behind us. It had been a while since I last visited.
"Where are you?" I called out.
"In the kitchen," Aubrey replied.
Following the delicious aroma of lasagna, I greeted her as I approached. "Smells fantastic in here," I commented.
"You know it," she said confidently, stirring a pot on the stove. Amara rushed over to her, and as I settled onto a bar stool, Aubrey lifted Amara into a big hug, exclaiming, "My gorgeous girl!" Their bond was always heartwarming to witness.
After catching up for about an hour over a glass of red wine, I prepared to leave. They walked me outside to where Luca was parked.
"Oh, you have your own driver," Aubrey teased with a grin.
"Well, yes, but I need one while my car is unavailable. Ace insisted to have one of his bodyguards 'protecting' me," I explained, rolling my eyes. Aubrey chuckled knowingly.
"I'm heading out. I'll pick her up tomorrow between 9 and 10 A.M.," I confirmed.
"Okay, works perfectly for me," Aubrey replied.
I glanced down at Amara, who was already looking up at me. Leaning down, I planted a kiss on her forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow. I love you," I whispered.
"I love you too," Amara replied, returning the kiss and making me smile. Turning to Aubrey, we hugged tightly.
"I love you too," I said sincerely.
"I love you too, girl. Have fun at the event," Aubrey encouraged.
"Oh, trust me, I will," I assured her.
_
I slipped into my evening gown—a stunning black glittery floor-length dress with a daring slit that revealed two butterfly tattoos on my thigh.
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For makeup, I opted for a soft glam with a fox eye, and my hair was elegantly styled half-up, half-down with loose curls.
Realizing the dress needed to be zipped up at the back, I sighed. "This couldn't have happened at a more perfect time," I muttered sarcastically. With Rose away and Amara not around, my only option was clear, albeit reluctantly.
I made my way down the hallway to Ace's bedroom. Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door.
It swung open moments later, revealing Ace clad in nothing but a black towel that hung dangerously low on his waist, showcasing a deep V-line and muscular physique. His wet hair darkened, and tattoos adorned his torso, including one—a butterfly the size of my palm—centered on his chest. Another caught my eye, a smiley face on his abdomen, which brought a smile to my lips. I remembered drawing smiley faces on him with a sharpie during our early days together, and a year later, he surprised me with that tattoo.
When I finally met his gaze, he leaned against the door frame with a small grin. "Can you please help me zip up the back of my dress?" I finally asked.
He furrowed his brows slightly. "Please?" I added.
"Okay. Turn around," he acquiesced with a sigh.
Biting my lip nervously, I turned, gathering my hair to one side. As his fingers gripped the zipper, I couldn't help but inhale sharply when his touch brushed against my bare back.
"Thank you," I managed to say, attempting to regain composure.
"Where are you going?" he inquired before I could step away.
"It doesn't matter," I replied, turning to face him directly.
"It does matter. I need to know you're safe. Where are you going, Nai?" he pressed, concern etched in his features.
"You don't need to worry about me," I deflected, but his persistence was unwavering.
"How can I not worry about you, Naomi?" he began, his voice softening. "I've spent my life worrying about you—whether you're safe, if you'll like what I give you, if you're in danger. Not a second goes by where I don't think about you."
His words resonated deeply, and I found myself at a loss. Was it comforting or overwhelming to know how much he cared?
Unable to articulate a response, tears welled up unexpectedly. Blinking them away futilely, a tear escaped and rolled down my cheek. Before I could react, his warm hands cupped my face, lifting my gaze to meet his.
Our proximity felt charged, but I found solace in his touch, despite my conflicted emotions.
"Don't cry. Your mascara's a bit smudged now," he noted softly.
"Impressive. You still remember my makeup lessons from years ago," I joked weakly.
"After all the terminologies and names you made me learn," he chuckled, the tension easing between us.
"Stop crying now, okay? You look beautiful, by the way," he complimented, brushing away the tears with his thumb.
My heart skipped a beat at his words. "Thank you," I whispered, a genuine smile spreading across my face.
