Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
The pavement blurred beneath my feet, and I moved through crowds of strangers. Horns blared. Buses rattled past. Someone laughed nearby, the sound bright and careless.Asshole.
I wrapped my arms around myself.
I’d been so stupid.
The moment I’d seen Elijah Westwood in that department store in Deadwater, I should have known exactly what he was.
The rich and powerful couldn’t help but be deceitful as fuck.
Men like him didn’t chase women like me unless they wanted something. And the moment they were done? They moved on.
The memory of that woman tangled in his sheets burned in my mind. Blonde, dainty. Younger than me. And comfortable enough to be sleeping in his bed.
My throat tightened.
I felt sorry for her, the blonde beauty. She had been waiting for him, not seductively, just in his sheets as if she had the right to be there. That told me everything. She wasn’t new. That was my claim.
I was the other woman. The bit on the side.
God, I’d been such a fool.
The city whirled around me, and I slowed in front of a huge department store window. Lights glowed behind the glass. Mannequins posed in silk lingerie sets, arranged on raised platforms in a dramatic display of lace and satin. Deep red. Ivory. Black velvet with delicate straps.
My feet stopped without permission.
For a long moment I simply stared.
The designs were beautiful. Technically perfect. Every seam positioned to shape the body. Every curve deliberate. Exactly the kind of display I’d imagined when I used to sketch designs late at night in my tiny shared flat. The kind of display I’d dreamed about seeing my own work in.
My chest tightened even more painfully.
That dream felt further away than ever.
I’d been so close.
To a future, to having a boyfriend, to a life that was changing for the better in all ways.
And now?
Now I was standing on a London street, heartbroken over a man who’d probably forget my name in a week.
A bitter laugh escaped me. “Well done, Bonnie.”
I’d managed to fail at both my business future and my love life in record time.
The reflection in the glass caught my eye. My hair was windblown from walking too fast. My cheeks flushed from anger and humiliation. I looked exactly how I felt.
Lost.
A prickle crawled up the back of my neck.
I frowned. The feeling was familiar. That strange awareness of being watched.
Slowly, I glanced to my right.
A woman stood just outside the store entrance. Store attendant. Black suit. Perfect hair. Expression carefully neutral. Except her eyes were fixed on me.
