Alina's legs trembled as she left the office.
Mya had noticed her pale face and asked if she was alright, but Alina brushed her off.
This wasn't the time to talk about the hospital encounter—or she'd have to explain everything.
If word got out, it could doom the company. Everyone knew Damien...and what he had supposedly done.
With the picture her father had painted, they believed Damien was a tainted soul. She had believed it too—until she saw the documents and uncovered all of her father's schemes.
Damien had been innocent all along.
And her father had known it. Yet, he had still imprisoned Damien to save his own reputation.
Alina shivered. She knew exactly what would happen to the Graves Company if those secrets ever surfaced.
That was why she couldn't let Damien expose them.
That was why she had offered herself.
He hated her. She knew damn well he did.
She had seen it, burning in his grey eyes at the hospital when he found out she was the one who released him and paid his hospital bills.
The memory seeped into her bones, stirring her heart painfully.
Yet she had still offered her body to a man who hated her.
Alina might have seemed hard, a strong heiress in the public eye—but inside, in the closed shell of her heart, she was reaching for something she had never had.
Love.
Love was scarce in her world.
Her father hadn't loved her. She had only ever been a tool—an object groomed to run his company after his death. A death the world still believed Damien had caused, even though he had been locked behind bars.
If only they knew the truth.
Alina's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Bile rose in her throat.
Damn it.
She needed a drink. Badly.
And her mother?
Well, her mother had left too.
As for Lucas, her only brother, their relationship had always been strained, always ending in arguments.
They had both grown up loveless, and it had broken something deep between them that could never quite heal.
Until Mya.
Mya had been her friend back in high school. Outspoken, funny, and fearless—she feared nothing and no one.
So when Alina had been bullied over and over, Mya had always stood up for her. Even though Alina wasn't the type to open up, the type to make friends easily, Mya had offered her a hand and a smile, saying,
"Come, we can be friends, play games, and fight every monster in the cupboard."
It was the first time Alina had smiled in a long time. She didn't know how to be anyone's friend, but Mya had always stayed by her side, longer than she ever deserved.
Perhaps that was love.
And she craved it—even if she never said it out loud.
That's why she wanted the kind of romantic love she'd always heard about. She wanted to marry someone she loved, someone she could give herself to willingly.
That's why she hadn't offered Damien her heart.
It was too precious to give to a man so cold.
As much as she felt sorry for him, Damien was still her father's enemy. He hated her father, and that meant he hated her. A man like Damien would never come to love her. No matter how much she wished otherwise.
Her car pulled up to a groovy bar, its neon lights flashing in the night.
She parked and stepped out, the cool air brushing against her skin, but it didn't ease the tension coiled in her chest.
A burly man in a suit opened the door for her, and she walked inside, immediately hit by the loud pulse of music and the frenetic energy of the dance floor. Girls swayed to the beat, their carefree movements only serving to remind her of how trapped she felt.
She ignored them and made her way to the bar at the far end. At least this part was quieter, a welcome refuge from the chaos. Here, she could hide, if only for a moment.
The bartender smiled at her. His hair was long, tied back in a ponytail like an Italian waiter. Even his accent felt foreign as he spoke, his words a blur of distraction,
"What can I get you, Mamacita?"
She returned his smile, though it didn't reach her eyes.
"A strong rum."
He glanced at her briefly.
"Ma'am..."
"Please," she slid a few dollars toward him. His eyes widened.
"Right away," he took the money and began preparing her drink.
When it arrived, she downed it in one gulp, shaking violently as the strong burn of alcohol hit her tongue.
To the bartender's surprise, she asked for another.
He hesitated. He didn't feel comfortable offering more alcohol to a woman alone, but when she slid more bills across the counter, he didn't hesitate. He took the money and hurried off to make her another drink.
She was about to take the third drink, her vision already spinning, when a strong hand covered hers.
A familiar cologne brushed her senses, the scent she'd come to associate with every restless night.
"What are you planning to do, Alina? Get drunk?" His voice was hard, stern, as his muscles pressed against her skin. She found herself leaning closer, drawn toward him despite herself.
"Alina," Damien growled, but she continued leaning in, her breath drifting to his nose and all he could think about was kissing the hollow of her neck.
"Damn it," he cursed, his gaze snapping to the bartender, who raised his hands innocently.
"She wanted another drink. She was specific about the alcohol."
Damien's furrowed brow softened as he shoved the untouched drink toward the bartender.
"Never give a lady too much to drink when she's alone. No matter how much she pays you."
"Of course," the bartender stammered, eyes wide with fear.
"W-who are you to her?" He shivered under Damien's intense gaze.
"Her husband," Damien blurted before he even realized the words left his mouth.