Chapter 3. The Fiancèe

Olivia;

What do you do when you're engaged and about to wed the man you know deep down is the love of your life in a month, but your ex shows up? The one man who shattered and broke your heart three years ago. And you realize, painstakingly, that maybe, just maybe, you still have unresolved and complicated feelings for him?

That's me right now. Standing in the lavish hall the Kingstons had arranged and decorated for my engagement with Marcus. With the gut-wrenching realization that these two were brothers.

And honestly, I don't know what to make of this.

I'd spent three years thinking I'd moved on. Three years of rebuilding myself from the shattered pieces Damon left behind. And it took just a night for everything to come crashing again in the form of those piercing, stormy eyes I'd once memorized.

Right now, I couldn't breathe. And I sure as hell couldn't take my eyes off him either. My feet felt like they were cemented to the floor. I was frozen, caught in the middle of a really cruel joke.

I felt really, really sick.

Of all fucking coincidences in the world. Here I was: Engaged to the brother of the man I had once loved with everything in me.

My dress suddenly felt too tight. The room too hot. My vision blurred at the edges.

I could see his lips move, but I was too far lost in my head to grasp a hold of myself.

I could hear Marcus's worried voice...I could feel his hands on me. I could hear the chatter in the hall becoming increasingly louder and louder each passing second...

"Hey, hey, love. Relax. Relax okay..." Marcus' voice filtered to my subconscious just before the darkness overwhelmed me.

He was holding me back– it seemed like I had almost lost my footing as well.

" I'm sorry, I...it must be something I ate." I said, standing upright. But my voice sounded foreign to me.

But Damon's eyes were on me. Calm, but dangerously collected.

I should be focused. This was supposed to be my engagement party, and we had only arrived.

Confrontations aren't my best suit, and I'd rather bury myself than deal with this right now. But...

A high-pitched voice suddenly reached my ears--

"Heyyy, D,"

I looked and saw...her. The knot in my chest tightened.

Of all the people to disrupt...it had to be her. Of course. They were here together. She belonged to him now. As if the universe needed to drive the knife a little deeper.

I wasn't sure what burned more-jealousy or the betrayal I had no right to feel.

Layla sashayed towards us. On reaching Damon, she stumbled before casually wrapping her hands round his neck, finding his lips.

I couldn't take my eyes away. Something sharp twisted in my chest, and I felt my eyes sting with tears.

Nothing's changed. Just like that very day. My heart pounded so loudly I could barely hear anything else.

Damon's eyes locked on mine, and for a split second, the room stilled. But his jaw clenched, and he turned his face away from Layla's kiss, leaving her pouting in confusion.

"You need to sit," Marcus broke the awkward silence and began to lead me towards the staircase. True to his word, his brother was indeed stuck up, and there was clearly a brother-hate relationship between them.

"Wait..."

Shit!

" Olivia? Is that you?"

I turned slowly, mustering a calm expression.

Her eyes widened in shock upon meeting mine, "Wh...what are you doing here--wait, you're the fiancèe!?

She sounded like she was in disbelief.

"You guys know each other?" Marcus asked.

Her eyes brightened, "Ofc--"

"It's great to finally meet Kingston's Bride to be. "My breath hitched as Damon cut in, closing the space between us. "Didn't realize she was this breathtaking."

He brought forth his hands and reached for mine. I tried to ignore the heat rising to my cheeks as he brought it to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of my palm.

I don't know if he was shocked on realizing this piece of information, or... he'd known even before coming here. But if he hadn't, then he was really taking this more than I was.

Damon's eyes flicked to Marcus, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Maybe I should've taken Dad up on his offer," he said, his voice low. "She is... incredible."

Marcus stiffened beside me, his hand tightening on my waist. My breath caught. Why did that sound like more than a joke?

"What offer?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. But my heart thudded in my chest. Now, Damon was smirking like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Marcus let out a small, strained laugh. "Didn't know you were suddenly interested in family traditions, brother? And I can see you still love pushing buttons, don't you?"

"Oh, come on, little brother," Damon said, cocking his head. "It's just a harmless joke. Unless... you're worried there's something to be threatened about?"

The tension between them crackled. People were starting to glance our way.

I was also beginning to sense there was more to this, but the noise in my head was becoming increasingly loud and I just couldn't deal with all this.

My eyes accidentally drifted towards Layla, and gods, if looks could smother, I'd probably be six feet under by now.

I don't give a fuck. But her gaze was fixated on my hands, burning holes in them. And that's when I realized my hands were still in Damon's.

I quickly pulled away like I'd been burnt. Again, I really needed to focus.

"Come on, Marcus," I said quickly, as I forced my gaze away. "Let's go find your parents." I think I'm getting claustrophobic."

As Marcus led me away, I didn't dare look back. But I could feel them-Damon's eyes, Layla's daggers, and the glaring reality between the three of us. Making me sick to my stomach.

I thought I'd buried this years ago.

Chapter 4. Gold digger

Damon;

Three years.

Three fucking years since she left.

Three years since she dropped the bomb, and my life became a goddamn mess.

Coming to Rosecliff-my hometown, the same place I'd vowed never to step foot in again-was a last-minute decision. I shouldn't be here. I had told them I wouldn't be attending any shitty engagement, which, of course, would've been mine. Family traditions and all that crap.

We all knew this marriage was bound to happen...for the merger, plus the many benefits I'd have gotten out of it, but what I didn't know, until this moment, was the identity of the bride to be.

Now I fuckin wished I'd agreed to it. Fate really does have the shittiest sense of humor.

It was hard to believe. Seeing her again. But it was harder to stomach realizing she was engaged to Marcus.

The night gradually wore off, and while the few guests took their leave, I sank onto a couch in the living room, nursing a bottle of tequila.

A few minutes later, and the entire family were all seated, having their little cringey bonding moment.

"You know what?" Marcus's voice pulled me from my thoughts. He had that smug tone that made me want to break something. "I think I do owe you a heartfelt thank you, brother. I mean, this should've been your engagement, and for once, your nonchalance about family traditions actually paid off."

"Marcus," Father warned, his tone flat and irritated.

Of course, I could recall. And the damn realization made me want to hurl this bottle across the wall.

Marcus held up a hand, "No, seriously. Let's not pretend. We all knew a day like this would come-where you'd choose the perfect family for the merger... and Olivia? She's just right for me."

I scoffed silently. I could already feel my knuckles itching.

But Father said instead, "Well, it was always going to be her. I had made a deal with her father before he died. The marriage was going to happen either way, and since you," his eyes drifted to me, filled with the familiar disappointment I was already used to, "since you stubbornly refuse to adhere to it, it's only fair Marcus take the reins."

For some reason, the fact that she was literally stripped of her choice rattled me. Does she even love him? I guess she was left with no choice as this was an agreement between both families.

The tequila burned down my throat but did nothing to kill the rage crawling up my spine.

And then she walked in.

My peaches.

Hair brushed to one side, that soft uncertain smile she wore when she was uncomfortable, and her gaze, obviously and carefully avoiding mine.

Wendy-stepmother of the fucking year-hurried to her like she couldn't wait to gloat. "How're you, darling? Marcus said you weren't feeling well?"

Olivia tucked her hair behind her ear and offered that soft, polite smile. She still wouldn't look at me.

"I'm really sorry, Mrs. Kingston."

Mrs. Kingston, my foot.

Wendy waved dismissively. "I told you, just call me Wendy," she beamed, all sugary sweetness. And I understand crowds aren't your thing. Actually, it's a good thing we realized that today. We'll make the necessary arrangements on the wedding day so you don't lose consciousness halfway through."

She laughed at her own joke, the high-pitched sound getting on my last nerves. "Oh-and we're going for your dress fitting tomorrow, so make sure you rest up. It's going to be a fun-filled day."

Olivia chuckled softly at that, and for some reason, that sound sent my blood rushing. I looked away. Took another swig.

"Go on, dear," Wendy said, touching her arm. "You should get some rest."

Marcus started to get up to escort her, like a devoted fiancé he wanted everyone to believe he was.

But Olivia shook her head. "I'm fine," she said, her voice soft.

He sat back down reluctantly.

And just like that, everyone shifted focus-except me. I was still gripping the glass as if it was the only thing keeping me from losing my mind.

Wendy turned her attention to me, smiling brightly. "So, Damon. It's really great to finally see you again," she said. "But what's this I hear about you going back tomorrow? Your wedding is barely three weeks away... you should-"

"That's none of your fucking business, Wendy," I snapped before she could finish, and I didn't miss the stunned silence that fell over the room.

I leaned forward, my voice sharper now, my eyes pinned to hers. "Quit acting like my fucking mother and stick to being the Kingstons' gold digger. That title suits you better."

"Damon! Enough of that. Show some respect to her." Father's voice cracked through the room.

Wendy's face flushed a deep red. She stood up quietly and left the room without another word, her heels clicking hard on the floor.

"I can't believe this!" Kimberly, her daughter, hissed as she stood up. I'd almost forgotten she was in the room with us.

"Are you seriously all just going to sit here and let him talk to my mother like that?" She glared at me. "Who the hell do you even think you are!?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" I said coolly.

"Can you just stop it already!?" Marcus snapped, finally losing that plastic coolness he always wore. "Enough, Damon!"

Of course. Marcus, the Kingstons' pride. The peacemaker. Now that I think about it, he'd always stuck with Kimberly even years back. Protecting her from her bully stepbrother, aka, me.

I raised a brow at him, slow and amused. "Touched a nerve, baby brother?"

Kimberly looked like she was about to burst into tears. She turned on her heels and stormed out.

Marcus gave me one last glare before following her.

The only thing I felt was the pressure of Layla's hand on my arm, rubbing those annoying soothing circles, like I was some fucking child needing comfort. It did the opposite.

I scraped my chair back and tossed the bottle on the floor. I wasn't okay with this. I wasn't.

"Damon," my father called sharply. I didn't answer. They should be grateful I was here in the first place. I wasn't here to lick anyone's ass.

I made my way upstairs. Towards my room. But on second thought, and without a care in the goddamn world, I turned and kicked open the door to Marcus' room.

But--

I wasn't expecting the sight that greeted me.

There she was. Olivia. Facing me directly, eyes wide in horror, and...

completely naked.

Chapter 5. This is Wrong

Olivia;

I was exhausted.

The day had drained every ounce of energy from me. All I wanted was a hot shower and a bed-just a few hours of peace before tomorrow's chaos began.

I slipped out of my dress, tossing it aside as I padded toward the bathroom.

And then...

The door burst open.

I froze.

There, in the doorway, stood Damon.

His chest rose and fell like he'd just sprinted through hell. His jaw was tight, and his eyes- his eyes looked like they were about to swallow me whole.

"What the hell, Damon?!" I yelled, grabbing my dress and holding it tightly against my chest.

Instead of leaving, he stepped inside, my heart dropping with each step he took.

My eyes darted to the open door behind him. I was half naked. And....anyone could walk in. Anyone.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he said, his voice low and bitter. He was pissed, and... he'd been drinking. "My brother, Liv? Really?"

He kept walking toward me. I kept backing away, inching until my back hit the dresser.

"What other way do you plan to rip my heart out, huh? You're marrying my brother!?"

My hands tightened on the fabric, panic crashing through me. "I'm almost naked, Damon. You need to lower your voice and get the hell out!" I said, mustering the calmest tone ever.

He scoffed, eyes burning through me. "Why? It's nothing I haven't seen before, isn't it?"

Before I could react, he yanked the dress from my hands.

"Damon!" I gasped.

Then his hands cupped my breasts. My breath caught.

A wave of heat surged through me, shamefully fast. My skin betrayed me. My nipples hardened under his touch, and my chest rose and fell in a frantic rhythm.

Damon's voice was low and strangely possessive. "I damn hope you don't think for one second that I'll sit back and let you marry my brother, Olivia. This wedding? It's not fucking happening."

Despite the rage burning in my chest, and the terrible, traitorous pleasure of his hands, I scoffed. "And who the hell are you to dictate that? We're over, Damon. Do you need help remembering, or should I refresh your memory?"

He stared at me like I'd slapped him, almost stumbling back, but his hands never left me. "I think you should," he gritted. "You broke up with me. You ripped out my heart without warning and just disappeared. Do you even realize what the past years have been like for me?"

Does he know what the past year has been like for me? Of course, he doesn't, and he wouldn't. Because he is a selfish, arrogant and self-absorbed shithead. The only mistake I'd ever made in my 21 year of living was falling in love with someone like him.

Suddenly fighting the urge to roll my eyes, they flicked toward the door again, my mind still screaming someone could walk in-but all I could feel was the way his fingers pinched my nipple, sending a moan crawling up my throat before I could stop it.

God, what the hell was wrong with me?

"D...don't give me that crap insinuating you haven't moved on a long time ago." I said, breath shaking. " You should focus on your girlfriend, Layla... and stop making it sound like I did something awful to you."

His eyes narrowed. "Yes, you did! How the fucking hell do you not realize what you did, Liv? How!?"

The air between us burned.

We stared at each other, both of us breathing too hard, too fast. His eyes dropped to my lips.

And I knew.

I knew what he was about to do before he even moved.

He shook his head. "You know what? Fuck this."

His hands grabbed my face, and then, before I could stop him, he kissed me. Hard.

His mouth crushed mine like he was trying to punish me with his lips. I gasped, tried to shove him off, but his tongue was already inside, forcing its way down my throat.

He grabbed my breasts again, pulling me into him, until I was pressed against his hard chest.

But then-my senses returned, shame curling into me, as I pushed him off with everything in me.

But before I could react further, he'd closed the distance between us again. This time, he leaned in, diving for my breasts, his mouth latching onto a nipple.

Oh, God...

His mouth was hot. And my head fell back, my body went lax. I was shamefully bare in front of him. In his arms. My legs weakened, but his strong hands held me in place.

This was wrong. So, so wrong. And it's weird that my body reacted to the littlest touch from him.

"Da... Damon...." A strangled moan escaped my lips when his hand drifted lower and cupped my head.

My eyes fluttered close immediately.

"I could take you right now, Liv." He murmured, "Right here in this room. With the door wide open for anyone to walk in."

I couldn't speak. Couldn't respond. His hands on my pussy were distracting enough that I couldn't even pretend to care.

"Please...."

"What do you want, Liv," his breath fanned my neck, trailing hot open-mouthed kisses that left my head spinning.

For some reason, I deduce another meaning to his question. But right now, I can't say a word to save my soul.

Damon's hands fumbled until I heard the sound of his belt buckle coming undone, and the low hiss of his zipper coming undone.

But reality slammed back to me that very moment, cold and brutal.

Was I about to let my toxic obsessive ex fuck me in my fiancé's room? What the hell is wrong with me?

My hand flew by instinct. Landing hard against his cheek, the sound echoing in the room.

He reeled back, stunned. And then...

A horrified voice.

"What's going on here?"