The Devil's Stolen Kiss

Chapter2

Chapter 2

Maya’s POV

My ride home was a mess of tears, pain, and curses. My mind reflected on the four whole years I had wasted on Marcus.

I thought we were going to work out. I gave him my all but he tossed me to the side with the slightest opportunity he got. When I got back to my house, I crashed to the floor and let out my heart-wrenching sobs. I cried long and hard, wondering why things never worked out for me. Marcus made me feel safe only to strip me bare of all the love I thought I knew with him.

I expected him to chase after me or flood my phone with apologetic calls and messages, but remembering his cold and unrepentant look, I knew he wasn’t coming. The more I thought of his betrayal, the more my hatred increased. I was going to cry all night while he was probably going to the gala with Julie.

No, I wasn’t going to let that happen. Heaving a deep breath, I got off the floor on shaky legs and wiped my tears. The tears were there, pushing against my eyelids, but the anger was stronger. I wasn't going to sit here and mourn a man who didn't even have the decency to lie to me. I was a scholarship student once and I knew how to fight for what belonged to me. I had worked too hard to let him see me crumble.

Tonight was the Blackwood Gala. Marcus had been talking about it for weeks, desperate to rub shoulders with the city's elite and make friends with several business owners. He thought he had broken me. He thought I would stay home and drown in my grief. He thought choosing Julie over me would make me cower in grief and never show my face again, but he was wrong. Missing this night would mean missing the connections I needed for my career and I refused to give Marcus that victory.

I reached for my things I had taken with me to Marcus’s house. It contained the dress I had planned on wearing to the gala and other necessities. Without hesitation, I changed into the black dress. It was a floor-length gown that clung to every curve of my hourglass figure. I did my makeup with trembling hands and let my thick chocolate-brown hair fall in loose waves down my back.

I looked myself over in the mirror and dared to smile before grabbing my clutch and heading out of the house. f**k Marcus.

The valet took my keys and I stepped out of the car, the cool night air easing my aching heart. I walked through the mass of flashlights, holding my head high as my initial plan was to take some pictures here with Marcus. I got inside the ballroom and mingled immediately, sipping wine and trying to have a good time. I took a quick look around and when I didn’t see Marcus, I dared to relax.

But my relief was short-lived because only a few minutes later, Marcus walked in with his arm draped possessively around Julie’s waist. Seeing them together squeezed the remaining hope out of me. I watched as he paraded her proudly around like he had just won a trophy. I watched him hold her close for everyone else to see, which was something he never did with me. He always said he was the quiet type, the one that hated attention on his woman, so he always made sure we were never romantic in public.

The pain was sharp but the fury that followed was worse. He was parading her around in front of everyone, proving that I was truly nothing more than an inconvenience to him. I watched a few people who knew us together exchange glances as they whispered, subtly pointing my way. My resolve shattered when Marcus met my eyes and smirked at me. I wanted to scream, to tear the smug look off his face, but I knew Marcus. He would love the scene and would call me hysterical and use it as further proof that he was right to leave.

I needed a different kind of weapon. I needed to show him that he was the one who was replaceable. My gaze drifted away from them, searching the crowd for someone who could dwarf Marcus’s ego. I ignored the minor players and the aging billionaires, looking instead for the center of gravity in the room. Then I saw him.

He stood near the windows, away from the growing crowd and noise. He was massive, towering over the men around him with an aura of cold power. His midnight-black hair was styled to perfection and even from across the room, I could feel the intensity of his presence. He looked like a man who didn't just own the room, he owned the city. And as I watched him, I knew he was the right one for the job.

I didn't think about the consequences. I didn't stop to consider who he was or what he might do. All I wanted was for Marcus to feel unwanted, just like me. I didn’t stop walking until I got closer to him. As if sensing my presence, he turned to look my way as I slowly invaded his personal space and I watched as his jaw tightened. When his gaze met mine, it was full of confusion, but I didn’t give myself time to think or get intimidated.

Before he could utter a word, my hand latched onto his tie. I pulled him down swiftly and met him halfway by standing on my toes, and within a split second, our lips crashed and a jolt of electricity went through me. I kissed him hard, pouring my pain, frustration, and desperation into that one kiss as I closed my eyes and savored the feeling, praying Marcus was watching.

But his lips were cold beneath mine as I felt him stiffen.