11 Ex-boyfriend

Gemma's POV.

In the bar.

"You two basically fought each other," Charlotte says.

"I didn't mean to!" I shout angrily.

People start glancing our way, so I quickly cover my mouth and lower my voice. "He did it on purpose!"

"But his injuries seem worse," Charlotte replies, staring at my phone, comparing the photo I secretly took of Luke's face with the red mark on my forehead.

"That's just bad luck on his part!" How was I supposed to know there were rocks in the bushes?!

"In that case, you should break up with him."

I nearly choke on my drink. "What?"

"Seriously, you should break up."

"Why?"

"I don't think you can win against him. If you get married, you'll be at a disadvantage."

I'm silent for a few seconds. "I haven't thought that far ahead."

"But every time you go against Luke, you lose."

The bar must be too hot; my forehead starts to sweat.

"And don't you think it's strange that you know nothing about his past?" The aperol spitiz in my hand is definitely too cold; my fingertips start to tremble a bit.

"Have you slept with him?" Charlotte presses on with another sharp question.

"Not yet." I shake my head and set my aperol spitiz on the coaster. "Enough about me. What about you?"

Charlotte has been in an online relationship with a guy recently and even borrowed $300 from me to buy him a gift.

She wanted to get him a pair of LV shoes.

I teased her, asking if those shoes would make him fly since they were so expensive.

But Charlotte insisted that she was madly in love.

"My relationship is going great. We chat online every day and fall asleep with phones on."

"Does he snore?"

"No," she pauses, her expression becoming more serious. "I need to tell you something important, but you have to promise not to tell your boyfriend."

"What is it?"

"Listen carefully. I saw your boyfriend go to a flower shop two days ago and buy a bouquet of white roses."

"I didn't receive anything," I say, stunned.

"I know. Because if you had, you would've bragged about it to me immediately," Charlotte remarks.

I lower my head, stirring the ice in my drink with a straw.

"So, what's your plan?" Charlotte asks.

After bending the straw until it won't straighten anymore, I make a big decision. "I'm going to confront him."

As I leave the bar, Charlotte warns, "Remember, don't tell Luke I told you about this."

"Don't worry," I promise, "I'd never betray you."

"Charlotte told me you went to a flower shop and bought roses. Is that true?!" I kick open Luke's door, betraying my friend instantly.

"Charlotte? You're drunk again?" Luke asks, half-lying on the couch, a laptop on his lap as he works.

"Whether I'm drunk isn't the point. The point is, did you buy flowers for another woman?" I demand.

"And if it's true?" Luke counters. "What would you do?"

"You've never bought me flowers!" I retort, upset. "Do you even consider me your girlfriend?"

"Why don't you go home and check the little nightlight by your bed? Who gave that to you?" Luke continues typing without missing a beat.

I remember the nightlight I braided the last time I stayed at his place; Luke gave it to me afterward.

"And what about all the gifts I've brought you from my business trips, including but not limited to—"

"Don't change the subject!" I march up to him and slam the laptop shut. "Tell me clearly: is what Charlotte said true? Did you buy flowers for another woman? If so, who is she? Where does she live? How far have you two gone? If not, why would Charlotte accuse you? You'd better analyze this situation thoroughly."

Luke looks up at me, like I'm a child throwing a tantrum. After a long pause, he reaches up and pinches my earlobe hard. "Before I answer your questions, you need to answer one of mine."

"What is it?" I ask.

"Have you submitted your work report?"

I puff out my chest. "The deadline is the end of the month. I've got time."

Luke grins, turns his laptop toward me, and opens the calendar in the corner of the screen. "Why don't you check what date it is today?"

I jump up in a panic and rush home.

I drank quite a bit, my head spinning as I try to finish the report, and can't manage to get to bed until two in the morning.

The next morning, I look in the mirror and see dark circles under my eyes and a face worn out from exhaustion. I have no choice but to cover it up with the heaviest makeup I could manage.

Then I walk into the office and hand the report, which I had stayed up all night working on, to Luke.

He is reviewing financial statements, but he still takes a moment to glance at me. In a professional tone, he says, "Good job," but I catch the faint hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

He's mocking me—he must be.

But this is the office, so I grit my teeth, force a "You're welcome" through clenched teeth, and turn to leave, returning to work.

I have a VIP client who just purchased a luxury car, and today is the delivery. I'm responsible for overseeing the process personally.

The driver is behind the wheel of the tow truck, and I'm sitting in the passenger seat as we pull up to the gate of a grand mansion.

I press the doorbell, and the gates swing open to reveal a man standing in the courtyard, dressed sharply in a suit.

His tall frame, chiseled features, and eyes that shift between coldness and warmth freeze me in place.

It's my ex-boyfriend, Dmitri.

"Long time no see." Dmitri walks toward me, stopping just in front of me with his hands in his pockets.

He smiles, but there's something unreadable in that smile, making me feel both hot and cold.

"What's wrong? Don't recognize me?" Dmitri steps closer, his move small but enough to make me flinch, my entire body tensing involuntarily.

Realizing I'm overreacting, I force myself to calm down, casually brushing my forehead as I ask, "Are you the owner of the car?"

He doesn't answer, just says, "I've been looking for you for a long time."

I don't respond, letting the silence speak for itself.

My eyes drop to the ground, focusing on our shoes. The garden has just been watered, and the reflections in the puddles are bright and gleaming.

His voice still carries that same commanding tone it always had, firm and unyielding, though when we were together, he'd soften at the end, as if realizing I was different to him.

Or maybe, I think, that was just my imagination.

But none of that really matters now.

"Mr. Dmitri, your new car has been delivered. Please inspect it, and if everything is in order, I'll leave."

I glance around; the driver has parked the tow truck in the garage, leaving just the two of us in the garden.

Dmitri chuckles. "Are you really that afraid of being alone with me?"

I pretend not to understand, staying silent.

"You don't need to worry, I won't do anything to you... at least not here," he continues.

I lower my head, reaching into my briefcase.

Dmitri's gaze remains fixed on me. After a long pause, he finally says, "I've missed you."

I shudder. Dmitri's eyes are still on me, flickering between warmth and coldness.

I sense it, but I can only pretend I don't.

"Here's your purchase receipt," I say, pulling out the documents. "It includes the warranty card. Goodbye."

"Ah... thank you," he replies, extending his hand.

But instead of taking the papers, he grabs my wrist. In the next second, I'm pulled into his arms.

In a panic, I start to struggle, but Dmitri leans down and whispers in my ear, "You disappeared from California without a word and ran off to New York, and I looked for you for a long time."

His superior tone oddly calms me.

I take a deep breath. "Given our relationship, I didn't think it necessary to inform you of my move to New York."

"Gemma, I've never stopped loving you." Dmitri's voice carries a hint of nostalgia, its coldness seeping through like threads wrapping around me.

My teeth clench tightly, keeping me silent.

"I love you," Dmitri says softly. "Gemma, you love me too. I know it."

I feel a cool, tingling sensation on the edge of my ear, slowly, gradually spreading down to my very bones.

"That was the biggest mistake of my life," I say, taking a deep breath.

"Love isn't a mistake." As he finishes speaking, Dmitri bites down on my earlobe.

It's the softest part of my entire body.

"Is this your goal?" I ask. "To make me suffer—is that what you've been after all this time?"

"Of course not. I only want to make you happy." There's a hint of a smile in Dmitri's eyes.

I close my eyes, inhale deeply, and say, "I'm not interested in getting tangled up with a married man."

"I know." There's an unmistakable trace of amusement in his voice.

I suddenly shove the documents into his chest, forcefully break free from his grasp, and dash toward the door.

Dmitri doesn't follow me.

I keep running until I reach the tow truck, scrambling into the passenger seat. Only after fastening my seatbelt do I dare to take deep breaths.

The driver starts the engine.

I swear I'm never coming back to this cursed place again. I turn my head for one last look, only to see Dmitri standing in the courtyard. He's smiling, watching me through the window, and waves with that same unsettling smile.

My hands and feet go weak with fear, and I turn away, urging the driver to speed up.

As we're stopped at a red light, my phone suddenly rings.

It's an unfamiliar number, but I know it's Dmitri.

The message reads: "I'm divorced. Can I pursue you now?"