Chapter One
Juliana
It always happened when you least expected it. You hoped and prayed for this moment in life when something big happened to change the empty and monotonous course you’d steered onto—only when it happened, the moment was so swift, you didn’t recognize it for the life-altering moment it was.
I was twenty-two in my last year at the university. My day was going exactly like every other, except that day, as I stepped out of the coffee shop I frequented, I ran into him.
I stumbled a few steps back as I collided with a solid wall of man, trying to balance my Styrofoam cup in my right hand, which I failed to accomplish. Hot java spilled on my hand and onto his crisp shirt. I gasped from the heat that scorched my hand and was amazed the man didn’t even flinch as his shirt molded to his skin from the hot coffee stain.
“I’m so sorry.” I shifted the cup to my other hand while balancing my books on my forearm. In an attempt to clean off his shirt, my hand skated down his chest. My effort to wipe it off only made it worse by spreading the liquid across his expensive eggplant shirt.
How did I know it was expensive? The fabric was like nothing I’d ever touched, high quality and well-tailored to his frame.
Our eyes met. My hand froze at the upper ridge of his abdomen. Despite his cold, hard stare, he’d captured my attention.
The perfectly chiseled angle of his face was sharp, covered with a dusting of hair that framed his tightly thinned out lips. His soft blue eyes were breathtaking. Cool and unassuming when gazing into them, but as I continued to take him in, a burn began that left me warm and disoriented inside. He wore thick, black-framed glasses that magnified the intensity in his stare. He was incredibly handsome despite his furrowed brows and the deep frown he threw at me.
“Uh…” I pulled my hand away as the heat from his skin began to seep through his shirt, reminding me I was in intimate contact with a stranger, who’d yet to speak a word to me. The silence was disconcerting. I was almost afraid that if he did speak, his bark would scare the life out of me. His domineering demeanor was that of a man who didn’t whisper soft words. He’d bark out orders—demands.
His gaze traveled from my eyes, down my body, and back up. His stare was empty. His eyes didn’t show a spark of interest, disgust or otherwise. They showed nothing. He’d studied me and left me feeling inadequate. Suddenly, I felt insufficient in my ripped jeans and black tank top. I ran my fingers into my hair trying to fix the strands falling out of my messy bun. An urgent need to escape him overcame me, but I couldn’t just walk off after ruining his shirt. A shirt I was sure cost more than any clothing I owned.
“I’m sorry. I’ll pay for the dry cleaning.”
“That won’t be necessary.” His deep, rasping voice was unexpected and set my heart racing. The sound that came out of his mouth turned me on—everything about the man made me hot.
Was this man real?
I blinked to be sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me. Never had I felt this kind of overwhelming reaction to a man. Usually, I was quite indifferent and had only been with a few men who sparked the slightest interest.
“Are you sure, because—”
“Good day.” He dismissed me with his sharp words and an arched brow, daring me to continue when I held up a finger. I couldn’t stop myself from watching him as he walked halfway down the street, stopping at a shiny black convertible. Before he climbed in, he tilted his head my way, and paused for two short seconds before disappearing into the vehicle.
As the car pulled away from the curb, I turned and made my way to the university. It was my turning point, but I didn’t recognize it as such. I pushed the mysteriously handsome man out of my mind and continued like I hadn’t just run into a wicked temptation that would send my life spiraling.
Chapter Two
Juliana
Less than a week later, I walked into a downtown nightclub with Trace and Claire. Our friendship started freshman year, and we became roommates sophomore year.
Trace was my go-to guy. Fun, outgoing, and he always knew what to say to make me see every bad situation in a different way. He was my optimist, while Claire was my hate-to-love pessimist—mostly because she was always right.
Me?
I was the balancer. I calmed down Trace’s crazy and got Claire to let loose when she was too wound up. Nobody knew how much effort I had to put into appearing like the calm, cool, collected person. No one knew about the nightmares I overcame, the years of therapy that finally helped me heal. And my roommates thought I had my shit together. Granted, on the outside, I did, but inside—where it counted—the scars ran deep.