CHAPTER 11- DARNELL'S POV
1179 Words
“Hey, baby. How’s work today? It’s late and you’re probably tired, but I was wondering if you could come over… I have some new sketches for my wedding dress I’d like you to see. And maybe we could have a drink or two…”
I paused the voicemail and dropped the phone onto the passenger seat. The strain in my head worsened just from listening to it.
I couldn’t stand Vanessa.
But I had to. I made a deal with the devil.
I hated to admit it, but I should’ve listened to Maurice. He said a lot of pointless things most of the time—but this time, he was right.
I’d never been interested in relationships or marriage. The last time I had a girlfriend was in college, and she’d dumped me three weeks later because I was always at the company, never around.
And for a long time, I hadn’t even tried to be interested in anything—or anyone.
Until Rhea Bennett.
The corner of my lips twitched at the thought of her as my hand turned the wheel into the next lane.
She had been defiant.
The look on her face when I had made her confess how badly she missed me…
God… to have her hair wrapped in my hand again.
Having her that close again after so long had felt good.
Too good.
And she loved it. She f*****g did. I had felt it in every shaky breath she had taken.
My phone pinged, pulling me from the memory, and I reached for it.
VANESSA: I promise I’ll let you be for the week if you come over.
I scoffed under my breath.
How could one sister stir this much desire in me… while the other drove me insane?
Dragging out a reluctant sigh, I turned the car toward the road leading to her apartment.
For a week of peace and quiet, pretending to care about dress sketches didn’t sound so bad.
The drive took about five minutes, and I found myself standing in front of her apartment. I had been here once before, under the pretense of “getting to know her.”
I didn’t bother ringing the doorbell. She was already there.
The door swung open, and her wide grin hit me before I could start regretting my decision. She leaned in, wrapping her hands around my neck in a hug.
I stayed still, my eyeballs practically straining in their sockets.
She pulled back and took my hand.
“I’m so glad you came.”
I wasn’t.
I forced a smile, trying to look interested.
She pulled me inside by my hand, and I followed, stifling the sigh that wanted to escape.
“I’ll pour us a drink,” she said, finally letting go. I took a seat on the couch.
There was an iPad on the middle table. I picked it up—it was the sketches she had mentioned. Might as well get it over with.
Vanessa returned with two glasses of wine and handed me one before taking a seat beside me. She sat facing me, legs tucked in neatly, that grin still plastered across her face.
“That's the first one. It has the same design as the one McKenna Harrington wore for her own wedding,” Vanessa said, sipping her drink.
I didn't give a flying f**k what Washington—or whatever her name was—wore for her wedding.
I placed the glass on the middle table. It was blueberry wine.
I hated blueberries.
They reminded me of my childhood.
Vanessa leaned into me as I scrolled to the next design. This one had a slit in the middle that separated both breasts, accentuating the curves, with a flared end.
“I think this one might look good on me. What do you think?”
What did I think? She just had to ask.
I'd been avoiding saying anything, but I guess I had to come up with something.
“It's… beautiful,” I replied with the first word that came to mind, not sparing her a glance.
The dress was beautiful. Would it look good on her? I didn’t know. But there was someone I knew it would be perfect on.
I pictured Rhea in the dress and—f**k. She looked beautiful.
Thinking of one sister while with the other… Look what you've doing to me, Rhea Bennett.
My hand found the drink on the table. Even though it couldn’t quench what—who—I was thirsting for, I took a sip.
It still tasted like s**t.
“Darnell…” Vanessa called my name, forcing me to turn to her.
“Yes?”
She placed her drink down and clenched her hands together nervously.
“I miss you… I miss us.”
If confusion had a face, it would’ve been mine.
I didn’t know what to say, so I just stared at her, speechless.
Was there ever an us? I had taken her on a few dates and bought her jewelry—including the diamond ring she kept fidgeting with.
I did it all because I had a company to run—and Elliot had a ladder to climb.
Vanessa’s hand reached for my shirt, her eyes never leaving mine as her fingers began undoing the buttons.
“Stop,” I said, trying not to sound harsh.
“You don’t miss me?” she asked, already on the third button.
A normal person would get turned on. I felt nothing. I had never been sexually attracted to Vanessa—not even for a second.
“Vanessa… stop.”
“Come on, you don’t want me?” She shifted closer, now kneeling on the couch, her drink still in her hand.
Not even a bit.
“Vanessa…” my tone hardened.
“I know you want me.”
Her lips almost touched mine before I pushed her back. She stumbled, and the drink spilled all over my shirt.
“What is wrong with you?” I asked calmly, standing up and pulling off the drenched shirt.
Vanessa stood up, throwing her hands in the air with a scoff.
“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? I’m not the one who’s been avoiding their fiancée like she’s some f*****g virus!”
I tossed the shirt onto the couch. “I’m not avoiding you.”
“It sure looks like it. You proposed to me—and then ghosted me after dinner with my family. What do you expect me to think?”
I sighed.
How was I supposed to tell her it wasn’t real?
That this—none of this—was real.
“Vanessa—”
The doorbell rang, cutting me off. She didn’t move.
“Are you not going to check who it is?” I asked.
“I don’t give a f**k who it is,” she shrugged. “I need you to give me an answer.”
I turned and walked toward the door.
It creaked open slowly.
“Vanessa, I’m sorry. It was a mistake.”
- Writer
