Mr. Thorne

CHAPTER 3

Mr. Thorne didn't say a word as he walked out of sight. His retreating figure cast a long, ominous shadow on my heart. I was alone now, with the weight of his rejection pressing down on me. I let out a bitter laugh as I stared at the ceiling, trying to distract myself from the lump forming in my throat because If the tears didn't trail down my cheeks, then it didn't count as crying.

Right?

It doesn't count as long as it doesn't find a way down my cheeks. I repeated this again and again like a broken record. I couldn't afford to crumble now. Not when I was so close to my goal.

So I wasn't crying... I was absolutely not crying. But the ache in my chest told a different story.

That night, I had a dream... or perhaps it was a remembrance. I was transported back to the day I discovered Rylan's relationship with my step sister. The betrayal was a physical pain, a wound that refused to heal. I remember asking him, "Why?" and his response echoed in the depths of my soul. He looked at me, his eyes holding a cold indifference, and said, "I never loved you... I only accepted the love you gave me." Those words were a dagger to my heart, a truth I could neither deny nor escape. They became a haunting dream, trapped permanently in my mind. So when I woke up to meet the gaze of Mr. Thorne, I was taken aback. His eyes, which was so similar to the man who had shattered my world, filled me with a strange sense of déjà vu.

I rose from the couch I was lying on, and a soft blanket slipped down my shoulder. I stared at it in surprise, wondering when I had been covered. The thought died before it fully formed as Mr. Thorne cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the silence. I looked up to face him, my eyes adjusting to the sudden light. He was already dressed, his tall frame filling my view. A charcoal suit hugged his lean figure, the tailoring emphasizing his broad shoulders and narrow waist. The silk tie was a deep red, a perfect complement to his dark grey hair. He looked every inch the powerful businessman he was, a far cry from the man I had confronted last night.

"I thought about it," he said, his voice low, as he handed me a file. His words snapped me back to reality. "Read it."

"Um… okay," I stuttered, my hands trembling slightly as I took the files from him. My eyes scanned the first few lines, and a surge of excitement washed over me. I quickly skimmed through the rest, just to be sure, before impulsively throwing my arms around him in a tight hug. His body stiffened under my embrace, and I felt a surge of embarrassment. I pulled away, my cheeks burning. What was wrong with me? I was the one planning to seduce him last night, and now I was acting like a blushing schoolgirl. I cleared my throat, trying to regain my composure. "Thank you for agreeing to my proposal," I managed to say.

"I think you should read the whole thing before thanking me," he replied, his voice steady.

I nodded, my eyes scanning the document again. My eyebrows furrowed as I reached a particular clause. "Two years?"

"Yes, that's enough time for your brother to solidify his position. After that, we..." He hesitated, his gaze fixed on something beyond me.

"Divorce," I finished for him, the word hanging heavy in the air. Rylan had warned me about Mr. Thorne's aversion to the word 'divorce'. He had lost his wife in a tragic accident on the same day he lost her as his wife, as it was the day she divorced him for another man. The pain of that loss was still visible in his eyes, this goes to show how fragile relationships can be.

“Make yourself at home," he said, turning to leave. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you any of the security codes," he added with a hint of sarcasm. A blush creeped up my cheeks.

"Thank you!" I called after him. He waved over his shoulder as he disappeared through the open door, where a tall, muscular man in black – probably his bodyguard – stood guard. With a heavy sigh, I closed the door behind him and collapsed onto the couch.

My mind raced as I tried to piece together the puzzle of Mr. Thorne's life. Fifteen years had passed since the tragic loss of his wife… or would I say ex wife. Yet the pain seemed trapped in his heart. I can't help but wonder about the details, the kind of relationship he had with her, the circumstances of her death. Lost in thought, I didn't even notice my phone ringing until it vibrated insistently in my hand.

I looked at the screen and saw Anya's excited face. A chuckle escaped my lips as I answered the call, holding the phone between my ear and shoulder.

"How did it go?" she asked, her voice was laced with impatience and even though I wasn't with her I could still feel and almost hear her tapping her foot on the floor in anticipation.

"You're invited to my wedding," I announced smugly, a mischievous grin spreading across my face. There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line before Anya's disbelief voice exploded through the phone. "No way... you didn't!"

I couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction. Technically, I hadn't done anything yet, but the thought of seeing Anya's reaction to the news was almost as good as the victory itself.