Chapter 8

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The sleek black car glided to a smooth stop outside my apartment building

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The sleek black car glided to a smooth stop outside my apartment building. As I gathered my belongings, Rohan shot me a sly grin. "Here you go. I brought you home safely without hitting you somewhere or throwing you somewhere," he teased, his playful tone slicing through the air.

I rolled my eyes, unamused, and opened the car door to step out. But before I could escape, his hand closed around mine. I turned sharply to face him, our eyes locking. His gaze, those captivating eyes, momentarily held mine. I pulled my hand away swiftly, a warning etched on my face.

"Don't touch me again," I cautioned, my voice firm and cutting.

He studied me for a moment before finally responding, "I am not dying to touch you. You are not the best woman to me." His words carried a peculiar mix of indifference and arrogance. "I stopped you to tell you that. Don't tell anyone in the office about this. Our fake relationship."

My jaw clenched in frustration. "I'd rather die than take your name with mine. Get down from the sixth cloud," I snapped, my resolve burning hot. With that, I stormed out of the car, leaving his lingering gaze behind.

The night air was crisp as I closed the car door, the slam punctuating our strange encounter. His words echoed in my mind, mingling with the chill of the night. I couldn't shake off the intensity of his gaze, nor the unsettling truth in his declaration. Our fake relationship – a charade I never signed up for, yet one I couldn't escape.

The door swung open, and I entered the apartment, tired from the charade of the evening. As I tossed my bag onto the couch, Hania emerged from her room, her eyes curious. "How was the party?" she inquired, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"It was good. His mother is a sweetheart. I don't know how he is such an arrogant ass," I replied, rolling my eyes as I settled onto the couch.

Hania's smile softened, understanding the complexities of the situation. "I don't know how you're going to be with him for three months without murdering him," she said with a chuckle.

Closing my eyes in frustration, I contemplated the challenging prospect ahead. Eventually, I excused myself and headed to my room. As I removed my jewelry while gazing into the mirror, the events of the day replayed in my mind.

Today, amidst the arrogance, I witnessed a different side of him. His sweetness towards his mother, the respect he showed – it was unexpected. Memories of our banter during the party resurfaced, along with the peculiar eye contact that seemed to linger.

"His eyes are beautiful indeed," I whispered to myself, caught off guard by the admission. A sudden realization struck me, and I shook my head, as if dispelling the unexpected thought.

"What's wrong with me?" I mumbled, redirecting my attention to the bathroom. After a refreshing shower, I slipped into bed, the exhaustion of the day pulling me into a deep and, thankfully, dreamless sleep.

Haya - The forbidden love Donde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora