My Dark Desire: Chapter 40

I must have looked like the Beast after dolling up for dinner with Belle.

Overdressed.

Hair curled to submission.

Utterly ridiculous.

A puffy, pale-pink ballgown draped over my limbs. I felt like a pavlova.

“I bought it last week, but I can’t wear it, because…” Dallas gestured to her stomach, sighing. “Isn’t it so glitzy yet understated?”

So is a meringue cake, which is exactly what I look like.

But I grinned, because even though I felt absurd, I also felt… happy.

My new friend fluttered around me, placing butterfly clips in my hair and squeezing so much gloss on my lips that it looked like a beehive exploded on my mouth.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d worn makeup. I didn’t even own mascara.

Dallas trapped another tight curl behind a clip and stepped back, dusting her hands as she admired her handiwork. “Girl, you look like Candice Swanepoel.”

I tapered my eyes. “Was that in English?”

She laughed. “The Victoria’s Secret model?”

“I don’t watch TV,” I mumbled.

She laughed harder. This was why Ari was my only female friend.

Dallas tugged at my hands, dragging me out of the guest room with a proud grin. “Come.”

We both still wore our ridiculous bracelets.

“I want everyone in the ballroom to see that you’re hot shit. And then I want someone to hit on you and for Zach to go all possessive on your ass. The way he sliced that idiot…” She plastered the back of her hand to her forehead and pretended to faint. “Swoon.”

“I still don’t know how he got away with it.” I gathered the many skirts of my ballgown to avoid breaking a leg.

This shit was heavy.

Dallas pressed her hand to her lips. “Oh, my sweet summer child. Zachary Sun is bigger than the law.”

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Where does that put me if I piss him off?

I descended each stair slowly, gripping both the wall and Dallas’ arm to keep us upright. How did women wear heels? I’d have an easier time balancing on circus crutches.

She laced her arm in mine. “So… do you have many friends in Seoul?”

It must’ve been nice being the sun personified. Chatty. Sweet. A complete natural at this whole peopling thing.

I could see why Romeo was obsessed with her. She possessed the uncanny ability to make anyone feel seen. Important. Worthy.

“Not many, but some. My best friend Ari is getting married in a few months. I can’t wait to see her.”

In fact, I’d saved up for over a year to afford the plane ticket and a small off-registry gift.

Dallas nodded. “Ari’s such a pretty name.”

“It’s short for Arirang. She hates it, because she’s named after this ancient folk song that played in the hotel room next door when her parents conceived her. The song is stunning, by the way. But every time she has to explain that her parents smashed to it, she turns pinker than a Barbie doll.” I giggled into my palm. “She’s gorgeous, funny, and just the best. A fencer, too. I wish you could meet her.”

“I’m sure I will, one day.”

We reached the ballroom. It felt forbidden to be here, almost, even though the woman beside me practically held the keys to the city. Not to mention I’d literally scrubbed this room wall-to-wall yesterday.

I hesitated, fingering the glossy fabric of my gown.

Two suited staff members opened the door, and just like that, we were sucked into the vortex of the dazzling soirée.

Pastel dresses swept the floor as couples waltzed. Servers weaved in and out of the crowd like black floss spinning around diamonds.

Women leaned in, whispering in each other’s ears as soon as we stepped inside.

Dallas’ spine tensed. She burrowed closer to me, almost hugging me.

In that moment, I realized Dallas and I were actually more similar than I’d ever expected.

She was too colorful—too brave to fit in.

And I was too poor—too unruly to want to.

“Don’t mind them. Only people without love in their lives become haters.” Her hand slipped into mine, tugging me inside. “I’ll teach you how to waltz.”

My knee-jerk reaction was to protest, but then I thought—why the heck not? It was my birthday. I deserved to dance in a pretty dress.

Dallas gathered me in her arms, one hand on my upper back, the other clasping my free palm. It felt ridiculous. I was so much taller than her, and a stomach full of baby separated us. Still, I rolled with it.

“Forward with your left foot, side with the right, close them together, then… yup.” She guided me with her feet. “Backwards with your right foot. You’re getting the hang of it. I forgot you’re a fencer. Quick on your feet.”

The music caressed the bare skin of my arms as I swayed and twirled. I closed my eyes, ignoring the heavy stares we got.

Incognito, my ass.

We flew under the radar like a marching band in a library.

“Do you believe in happy endings?” I croaked, barely audible for Dallas to hear.

“Yes.” She clung on to my back tighter. “I live mine every single day. It’s not always perfect, but it sure is happy. We can all write our own happy endings. That’s why hope exists. It’s our pen.”

“I feel like mine ran out of ink.”

“Oh, no.” She shimmied us, lips curved up. “You just need to give it a good shake.”

We laughed and twirled, like two kids playing make-believe. When the song ended, Dallas bowed to me, and I did the same. I raised my head, the grin wiping off my face in an instant.

Because behind Dallas’ shoulder stood no other than my boss.

My formidable, incredibly pissed-off boss, by the looks of it.

Zach stared at me with enough ire to scorch a path straight to me. I was surprised he even recognized me with my borrowed frock and fancy hair.

His eyes delivered a warning. He curled a finger to signal me to come to him. I flipped my hair, gave him my back, and headed to the bar.

Nope.

I refused to be treated like a misbehaved dog, especially on my birthday.

Halfway through my journey, a hand clasped my elbow from behind.

I turned, jerking it away. “Don’t you dar⁠—”

Oh.

I’d expected Zach but got Oliver von Bismarck instead.

Up-close, he looked even more delectable. Eyes clearer and bluer than the Caribbean Ocean, dark blond hair swept to the side like a Tom Ford commercial.

So beautiful.

So depraved.

I pitied the women who fell prey to his trap .

He curled his pink lips. “You.”

I arched a brow. “Me?”

“You’re the antidote.”

The antidote?

I’d heard he was a player, not an alcoholic. Perhaps he was a man of many parts.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Of course, you don’t.” Oliver studied me. “We need to talk.”

“I wholeheartedly disagree.”

“Let’s have a little chat. Dance with me.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“A memory to cherish.” His smirk was agonizing. He dripped sin and decadence. “Something to write home about.”

I slouched against the bar, waving a hand to draw a bartender’s attention. “Nice ego. Do they make you pay extra for overweight luggage when you travel?”

“Is this a middle-class thing?” His brows snapped together. “I’ve only ever flown private.”

Jesus H.

The bartender ignored me, whizzing by with three drinks in his hands.

Oliver inched closer to be heard. “Anyway, name your price.”

That was an easy one. “A round-trip ticket to Seoul. First class.”

He chuckled. “Deal.”

Then, he grabbed my hand without asking, dragging me back to the dance floor before I could say margarita. I could practically feel Dallas’ smile warming the back of my neck as the crowd parted for him.

He placed us in the middle of the floor and spun me to face him. His fingers pressed against my upper back, warm and strong.

In another world, in another time, I would enjoy them.

In reality, however, all I cared about was survival.

The orchestra began playing. We took position—him with flawless posture and me with unpracticed rigidness—and danced.

“Mr. Sun…” Oliver twirled me. “…is broken. I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now.”

He held me closer. It occurred to me that this looked like an intimate, clandestine moment by design.

I didn’t know how, but I knew Zach watched us like a hawk—and that Oliver had intended this.

I didn’t respond.

“All sharp-edged shards.” Oliver spun me again. “He doesn’t let anyone get too close, so they don’t bleed out.”

Still, I said nothing, letting him spin me like a rag doll. With the whirl, I noted a sea of women watching in envy as I clung to Oliver von Bismarck’s shoulders.

I ignored them, trying and failing to find Zach.

“Now, I don’t know who you are…” Oliver guided each of my steps, moving just slow enough for me to concentrate on his words. “…and the way you wormed yourself into his life is questionable to say the least.” That crisp, businesslike tone surprised me. Not at all like the ditzy party boy his reputation claimed him to be. “But if you hurt my best friend, who seems downright obsessed with you, I will personally drag you into the pits of hell and toss you into the fire. He’s been through enough. You hear me?”

I threw my head back and laughed. It must’ve seemed like we were having a splendid time.

“I will crush him into dust if I so wish to, von Bismarck. I don’t take to being threatened very well.”

I didn’t tell him the truth—that I had no power over Zachary Sun. No one did. I was simply the only person he somehow found bearable enough to touch.

I was a shiny new toy.

Something to pass the time with.

“You have a smart mouth.” He gave me an appreciative once-over. “I can see why he likes you.”

“Wait till you see me with a sword.”

His eyes flared, a gleam of curiosity lurking within them. Weirdly enough, his beauty did nothing to me.

He reminded me of a statue.

Perfectly polished, yet completely dead inside.

You once described Zach that way. What changed?

I swallowed the question, focusing on Oliver. “How do you know he likes me?”

“For starters, he no longer looks like life is pushing lemons into his rectum, two at a time, twenty-four hours a day.” I stumbled over his feet. He caught me by the waist, a chuckle rolling from his throat. “God, you’re adorable. All rough edges, just like him.”

“It’s my first waltz.”

“For the sake of every pair of feet in the state, I hope it will be your last.”

“Do you always find people not in your class so amusing?”

“Not at all. I usually find them completely insignificant.”

God help the poor girl who managed to tame this beast. What a handful .

The song came to an end.

We pulled apart, about a foot.

Oliver bowed, claimed my hand, and brought it to his lips. He peered up, staring right into my eyes as his lips grazed my skin.

“Remember, little Fae. No hurting Zachary’s feelings. I can be a teddy bear, but make no mistake—I can also become one hell of a lion.”

I mustered a smile that must have resembled a grimace. “As I said before, von Bismarck, I won’t be intimidated by a fat bank account and the mediocre dick it’s compensating for.”

He laughed all the way to the bar. Great. Now I couldn’t get a drink. Asshole would think I followed him.

His ego needed its own zip code.

I turned toward the kitchen instead, pushing my way through people. Everyone buzzed with excitement.

Instead of ramping mine up, it suffocated me. I almost made it to the door when I heard my nickname.

“Octi.”

Ugh.

Couldn’t catch a single break tonight.

I stopped but didn’t turn to face Zach.

“Asshole,” I greeted back.

His footsteps barely made a sound as he placed himself right in front of me, blocking my way to the kitchen. “Enjoying my party?”

I took my time perusing him in his slick tux, settling on his bloodshot eyes. Oliver’s words shotgunned to the front of my mind.

For the first time, I realized that—behind the designer suit and thousand-dollar haircut—Zachary Sun was a wreck of a man.

If only I wasn’t so focused on my own misery.

“Not really.” I hitched a shoulder up. “I’ve been trying to get a drink for an hour now, and there’s always someone in the way.” I raised a brow. “Currently, that someone is you. Kindly see yourself out.”

“This is my house.”

“I’m aware. If it were mine, I wouldn’t let Mommy be in charge of the décor.”

Shit. I really was in a bad mood tonight.

He stepped toward me, his fingers twitching as he stopped himself from touching me. “What did Oliver say to you?”

He threatened my life if I hurt you, you fool. Great friends you’ve got there. What did you do to deserve them?

“None of your business, Zach.” I arched a brow. “May I remind you we’re not exclusive?”

“May I remind you I hold the purse strings?

”

“Don’t worry… I’m reminded of that every time I see your annoying face. It’s not good will that’s keeping me here.”

“Watch your mouth, Miss Ballantine. I may want it wrapped around my cock, but I also won’t hesitate to fire you.”

My face must have betrayed my thoughts. That he was dangerously close to getting his nuts kicked.

He stepped back and released a growl, thrusting a hand into his hair. “He had no right to touch you.”

“Will you cut the possessive bull crap?” I folded my arms over my chest. “You have no right.”

“But I have will.” His teeth slammed together. “The will to finish anyone who looks at or touches you.”

He curled his fist, pressing it against his thigh, and I knew he wanted contact. A hug. A skin-to-skin moment to soothe his anger.

His face softened, and dammit, so did my heart.

He glanced away for a moment. “I was an asshole today, wasn’t I?”

“You were,” I agreed. “Why?”

He opened his mouth. From the center of the room, the unmistakable clank of a knife against fine glass interrupted the moment.

We snapped our heads in its direction.

The music stopped.

Constance stood on a heavily mic’d podium, swathed in a navy gown with a cape, hair twisted back and adorned with delicate jewelry.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us today. May I kindly have your attention?”

Her voice—pure steel, cold and sharp—grazed along my skin, giving me goosebumps. She handed the champagne glass to a server and scanned the room until her eyes landed on Zach.

Next to me.

Her expression clouded, a flash of lightning surfacing, but she quickly smothered it with a smile. “I’d like to start by thanking you for making the time to attend such a last-minute gathering. Your support means the world. The Sun family and the Sun for Warmth Foundation are forever grateful for this community and your mutual efforts in preserving local wildlife.”

Oh, she saved wildlife? That seemed so fitting, considering she was a rabid bitch.

Grief, I reminded myself, changes people.

But with her eyes drilling a hole in my temple, I struggled to conjure Dallas’ description of the old Constance Sun. Packed lunches? Carpool? Tutoring?

Surely, not the woman stabbing me with her eyes .

A tight smile tugged the corner of her mouth. “We have gathered here today to share exciting news. Something I’m sure a lot of you have wondered about.”

My heart sank all the way to my toes. I had an inkling of what it could be. Even though it came as no surprise, my whole body revolted.

“As you are well aware, my son Zachary has been on the market for some time now, searching for the perfect bride.” She laughed so gracefully, even I wanted to join her. “I do believe my search for a daughter-in-law is the worst kept secret in America.”

A wave of laughter rolled through the room.

An upsurge of nausea crashed into my stomach.

No, no, no.

Beside me, Zach tensed, his expression morphing into granite. His pinky touched mine.

His. Pinky. Touched. Mine.

And that was enough to ignite the entire world into flames.

“I am, therefore, delighted to inform you that the search is over. I’d like to take this opportunity to announce the official engagement of my son Zachary to the lovely Eileen Yang. Come, come, children.”

At first, Zach didn’t move.

We both stared as Eileen glided across the room in a sparkly silver-and-olive sequin gown. The train swished against the marble floor.

She wore satin gloves up to her elbows, her aura otherworldly and elegant.

A piercing pain dug through my heart. It felt like everything I’d promised myself wouldn’t happen. Like my heart lay bloody on the piste, a sword straight through it.

Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.

Eileen’s voice boomed through the six microphones attached to the podium. “Oh, Mother.” She kissed Constance’s cheeks. They embraced each other’s elbows, their hairdos identical. “It’s such an honor to join your family. I promise I’ll make Zach very happy.”

Another woman—Zach’s aunt, I recognized—sashayed across the dance floor, resting a hand on Constance’s shoulder. Unlike her sister, Celeste didn’t seem elated.

Her eyes scanned the room. “Speaking of Zach, where’s the man of the hour?”

“Seconds from migrating to Denmark,” Oliver coughed into his fist, eliciting a warning glare from Constance.

I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience as Zach abandoned me, drifting deeper into the ballroom, taking his place beside the most important women in his life.

The four of them stood shoulder-to-shoulder without touching.

Constance served as a buffer between the couple. Even through the agonizing ache that ripped through my veins, I took a little comfort in the fact that Zach wouldn’t have to touch Eileen.

I knew he didn’t want to.

Where is all this jealousy coming from?

“Ladies and gentlemen.” Constance planted her hands on Zach and Eileen’s shoulders.

Zach visibly flinched, his nostrils flaring as he bit back a scream.

I wanted to scream, too.

Constance’s face erupted in a grin, genuine happiness radiating off her. “I’m happy to introduce to you the future Mr. and Mrs. Sun.”

Claps erupted across the room, ringing between my ears. Camera flashes zinged in front of my eyes. I turned around and began speed-walking away.

“Eileen…” Constance’s voice boomed through each speaker peppering the walls, loud enough to be heard through the cheers. “Show everyone your engagement ring. Do a little tour.”

My legs carried me on auto-pilot, my mind reeling from what should have been obvious to me. Zach had warned me all along that he’d marry Eileen.

When I reached the stairway, I collapsed on the third step like a broken swan, my ballgown surrounding me.

I sobbed into my arms, realizing that, for the first time since Dad had died, I was actually full-on crying. I didn’t recognize myself in this fragility.

I’d always prided myself in my strength.

“Stupid…” I sniffed, my entire face a sea of snot and tears. “You’re so stupid.” I yanked the stupid heels from my stupid feet. “Thinking you could somehow fit in with these people.”

So much for rejecting the glitz and glamor of Maryland’s elite my entire life.

In one reckless night, they’d served me the reminder I’d tried to ignore—that I could be the side piece, but girls like Eileen Yang would forever be the endgame.

“Farrow.” Dallas’ voice erupted from behind me. I craned my neck, watching her charge toward me. “Wait up, please.”

I shot up, taking the steps two at a time.

I didn’t want to wait. I didn’t want her to see me so thoroughly humiliated, and I definitely didn’t want to listen to her little white lies, designed to make me feel better .

When I reached my room, I locked the door behind me, pressing my back to the wood. I closed my eyes, sucking in a deep breath.

You’re fine. You can’t mourn what you’ve never lost. He was never yours, Farrow.

But he’d started to feel like mine.

It was like the past, the present, and the future conspired to bring me exactly what I needed, then changed their minds.

I forced my eyes open, begging the pain and humiliation to go away with each blink.

And they did, replaced by shock as I realized for the first time where I was—the guest room I usually occupied.

My room.

I brought my fingertips to my lips. “Oh, Zach.”

Presents dusted every inch of the room. Every corner. Every piece of furniture. Every thread of the carpet. A sea of fancy boxes and bags. All wrapped and tied with golden foil.

He remembered.

He remembered my birthday.

Unless… it was Ari?

But it couldn’t be.

Ari didn’t know Zach’s address. And no one else in this world cared enough.

Wiping at my eyes and nose, I treaded to a mountain of boxes and picked one up, tearing the wrapper apart. A Chanel box materialized beneath the shiny paper.

I opened it, discovering a pair of sneakers. White calfskin with the signature logo embroidered in black. My brows slammed together.

I picked another box and opened it.

Tory Burch sneakers. Camel-hued.

Another box—Prada this time.

Silver Golden Goose.

Pink Balenciaga running shoes.

Burberry low-tops.

Dior high-tops.

Custom Louboutin fencing footwear.

He’d filled my room with every designer shoe possible—all comfy, all shoes I’d actually wear.

It was sweet, and thoughtful, and utterly enraging. Because now, more than ever, I didn’t want to feel like a charity case.

Each box mocked me, reminding me of the gap between us. Of how poor I was in comparison to him. Of the tattered shoe I’d left behind the day of the ball.

I may be Cinderella, but Zachary Sun is not my Prince Charming.

Without further ado, I began collecting the shoe boxes and hurling them out the window.

Zachary Sun could buy his way into most places.

But not into my heart.