Aside from my inevitable urge of going against everything Richard has said about my body, it's the desire to live up to Adrian's emboldening words. It makes me want to be the best version of myself and I know I've made a huge step by accepting my past and facing it head-on.

It's time to be comfortable in my own skin. For myself, and for someone who finds a beautiful sight in me. Thinking of everything, I sit cross-legged on the bed, holding the tong and olive hairspray that's about to sprinkle some magic on my after-swimming shaggy hair.

A few minutes later my makeup is on point, thanks to all the practices I've had on Sally's face during our teenage years. Standing tall in front of the bathroom mirror to appreciate my work, I jerk up my boobs, a small amount of cleavage showing through the off-shoulder neckline of a long-sleeved bodycon dress in a glittery burgundy.

Beautiful.

I'll always chant this word like a mantra because we all are. Positivity merges with confidence to draw a smile of contentment on my face. Thick and lovely, that I am. I watch my curves, plump round derrière, and ample bosoms all fixed in place by the polyester material of my above-the-knee length dress.

Good thing I didn't have lunch, so my tummy is super flat. I rumble a comic laugh, for this trick usually works when I'm about to snatch my waist in a dress or tight top. I turn right and left, gauging my rearview and sides, and I realize acceptance comes from within. As I'm feeling good inside, the effect mirrors the outside.

"May I?" Adrian's voice and a knock.

I inhale a sharp breath before muttering, "Sure," while staring at him with a smile through the mirror.

He saunters in, his eyes straight on the mirror. I see his fine reflection, suddenly creeping a tingle in my stomach. I turn around cautiously, and his eyes take me in like a fresh invigorating breath, yet I can't explain how queasy he makes me as they glint anew the more he looks at me.

"Wow," he whispers.

"What? How do I look?" I murmur, holding out my breath somehow.

I don't want to feel desperate for tonight, and much less innervated, but I think I am anxious and he can see right through me.

"Divine," Adrian says simply while marching closer. "Very divine, Arabella."

I let out a nervous smile, breathing out at last. Why does it feel like his approval is something I yearn for even if I deny deep inside to seek validation from anyone? Why do I look forward to it every time I do something unusual lately?

It's as if he holds a special reinforcement over me, and I love being under his control whether willingly or not. Is that a sign of being submissive? Because I've never felt like this before toward any other man or woman.

He's my first.

"You're not dressed yet. I thought—" I pause, my body suddenly captive of his steadfast grip. "Adrian!" I giggle when he squeezes my ass, jerking me tighter toward him.

Lips on my neck, he lazily utters, "I might as well discard this fucking dinner and keep you here for myself. Do you have to see your ex looking this exquisite?"

A smile tugs across my lips as the warmth of his hand meets the surface of my bare thighs. Not now, Adrian! Head tipped back, I grab his broad shoulders tightly for support and I look up at him.

Playfully, his gaze glides on my body, from my chest to my bottom.

"Your dress is short. I'd be very begrudging if I wasn't your date tonight," he groans, his thick voice a semblance of pure possessiveness.

I flush. He knows how to press my buttons, I swear. Truth be told, he makes me bolder, and being his date is the most exciting date of my life.

"Well, I'm not responsible for this turn of events, dear sir. Mind you, I didn't buy this dress with my own money, nor did I plan to have this dinner that's not as exciting as eating Mac and Cheese on the balcony with you would have been," I tease, meaning every word of it.

Adrian snorts a laugh, drawing himself back to catch a proper sight of me. "Dinner on the balcony? That can certainly be fixed, Arabella. But for now, let's do what must be done, shall we? You're my brave woman and patience is a virtue." His thumb strokes over my cheek, sending shivers down my spine as the effect mingles with his sexy words.

My brave woman. How do I stay immune to his sweet little remarks?

"Sure. Let's do that," I breathe, smiling softly at him.

My lips melt in his when he kisses me swiftly with that dominant touch.

"I'll be ready before you know it." He tugs his T-shirt over his head while veering towards the shower stall.

"If you say so." I watch his inked back with similar first-time amazement.

He's still an intriguing mystery to me.

Half an hour later, he pops from the walk-in closet, fully dressed. As he throws a shiny silver watch around his wrist, my gaze devours his hot body in the casual navy blue suit he's wearing. God! Very white shirt beneath, and a few buttons were purposely undone, with a jacket hanging loose.

Get a grip, bitch!

"You did yourself well, sir." I rise from where I've been seated, silver ankle strap heels enhancing my height, and yet I can't beat Adrian's.

I'm pretty sure he played basketball during high school or something. If not, such a waste.

The scent of Aventus by Creed engulfs the air, a reminder that I'm also wearing his perfume. What am I doing with my life? Why do I enjoy this moment more than I should? It's otherworldly satisfying, even though I'm bound to reality sooner or later.

Pointed midnight, Cinderella! Don't dance too much.

"Are you done?" he quizzes, seemingly all ready to go.

"I am." I suck in a breath.

Uncle Mario drives us in his famous Mercedes. I guess Miss Cleopatra is now in the sky, counting the hours to reach Canadian soil. Adios! Minutes pass, and as the car slides by I slowly discern that we're heading to the Scotch 80′s—the place I visited a few times in the past.

Lush greenery during the day is now replaced by shadows and streetlights, as it's almost seven. This is one of the oldest neighborhoods in Las Vegas, residing with the most aristocratic families. Mid-century homes, thick trees, and limited nightlife are all I can see—it's too quiet.

My fear comes to life when the gates of Richard's family home slide open for us. My heart rate accelerates. Why does it have to be here? I look at the large brick mansion, large windows with lights on inside, with a wide grass garden.

"Welcome," a young lady says politely when we walk into the living room.

"Thank you," Adrian answers coolly, taking my hand in his as though he can sense the tension running through me.

I look around the place, unable to believe that I'm here once again. An old grandpa clock and the accent wall full of family pictures are still there, with the maroon Ottoman on the floor as vintage as I recall. Nothing has changed; it feels like yesterday when Richard introduced me to his parents.

The memory is bitter. I guess every parent prefers their kids to mingle with those of their status and not those carrying emotional pieces of baggage like two siblings to care for. I still remember the look of disapproval his mom threw at me when she realized I'm no less than an orphan too.

With no life of my own.

"I was okay with Sally Osborne, Richard, not her! She has nothing. She's nothing!" I heard his mother snapping at him in the kitchen and I knew it was a red flag.

I was just too stubborn to accept it.

"Mr. Castle." A masculine voice interrupts my reverie. A middle-aged man in dress pants and sweatshirt, his brown hair once dark but now faintly graying. "You're here. What a pleasure." He outstretches his hand toward Adrian.

He accepts the gesture. "Mine as well," he says simply.

Charles Cooper smiles gratefully. He's Richard's dad, one of the known old businessmen around, which explains why Adrian has agreed to this dinner. They have a food factory for ages, passed from generation to generation, and it's a partnership shared with Sally's family.

"I see you have company," he says, staring at me.

"Yes. I hope you don't mind," Adrian remarks, his one eyebrow quirked up in a semi-arrogant manner as he glances briefly at me. "Sometimes we can't separate business and other important commitments."

What is he saying now? I'm a commitment to him now? My nerves shoot capriciously as I hold Charles' inquisitive gaze. He's looking at me intensely, probably trying to decipher whether we've met before.

Newsflash, old man! I'm the same Arabella Lincoln.

"Hi, Mr. Cooper. I hope you're doing fine," I greet him with a forced smile.

I can't say I'm pleased to be here.

"Yes, thank you," he replies rather thoughtfully. "Wait. You're Sally's cousin, right? Ara-bella?" he asks.

Before I could respond, someone else walked in and wipes any trace of a smile on my face.

"I apologize if I'm late," Richard says, sprinting through the door in a rush.

As though I'm susceptible to his presence, my whole body freezes. There's no denying that I once shared plenty of intimacy with him, and told him about myself more than necessary, only to realize that I made him sick with all the talk and wishful thinking.

"I think you're right on time. We just arrived," Adrian answers, stressing on 'we' as if he's here only for that matter.

"Oh, great. You must be Adrian Castle! I heard so much about—" Richard's speech falls when he sees me, and a deep frown wrinkles his forehead. "Ara?" he spits, shock heavy in his voice.

"Richard," I say no more, for I have absolutely nothing to say to him right now.

"What the—" He pauses, scowling so hard. Between Adrian and me, his eyes wander to no avail. "I mean... Hi," he greets.

"Hi," I return.

Awkwardness stretches all over the place and maybe me from last night could've run by now. But I commend myself for being here. I had to be here because it's about time I find closure with my past if I want to move on.

"Well," his father says, trying to soothe the tension, "why don't we sit while we wait for dinner? Surely business can wait for a few minutes, can't it?" He smiles sheepishly at us.

"That's fine," Adrian utters dryly.

Hand around my waist, he gently leads me toward the leather sofas and we both take a seat. I give him my sweetest smile, adjusting myself right next to him. No surprise finds me when Richard sits across from me, his demeanor highly disturbed by the mere presence of me.

It's been one fucking year.

He hasn't changed much. Maybe he's lost a few pounds. He's leaner than I recall, and his sandy blonde hair is trimmed lower than I recall. Jeans and blazers were his signature style, and it doesn't seem to have altered as he's wearing almost the same right now.

"So, this is my son. Richard. He's now in charge of the factory," Charles starts, making a casual but meaningful talk resembling business.

His son, however, doesn't seem a bit interested in the business talk anymore. He's busy staring at me, studying me like a lab specimen, with a deep frown. I'm sure seeing me was the least of his expectations, and so many questions are piled through his eyes.

"I see," Adrian remarks and once again I can't detect any emotion projected through his baritone voice.

He gives Richard a tight yet normal glance but utters no word to him.

"So, are you two—" Charles starts, but a clatter of high heels makes him stop his speech.

"Honey, that's not the way to invite our guests. They're barely seated and you've already begun the business talk?" A lady graces us with her presence. "Mr. Castle, I'm Susan Cooper. My husband speaks very highly of you and I appreciate that you honored my dinner invitation tonight."

Adrian nods and smiles courteously at her. As for me, I hold my breath, waiting for another priceless reaction at my expense. It's Richard's mother, a very obnoxious blonde woman with refined taste in everything.

Well, except for her lousy mouth.

Richards family isn't extremely rich; they are just classy, inherently resulting from being the old Cooper family traced back from the 80s to the present. They have a better life than most of the residents around here.

"Oh, and you have lovely company here," Susan continues, now talking about me with utter enthusiasm. "Don't tell you're married to this beautiful—"

Her silence forces my eyes toward her. Like the others, she's also stupefied to see me. She knits her eyebrows together, staring at me stiffly as if she's making sure whether I'm the same person or not.

And when she finally comprehends, her frown deepens.

"What is she doing here?" she snaps in a low, dismayed voice.

I nearly laugh. She hasn't changed one bit. Still obnoxious.

"She's with me, of course," Adrian tells her monotonously in that very same voice capable of taking me on my knees. "My girlfriend." He looks at everyone when he adds this.

A slight chill runs down my spine at his little powerful words.

"Your girlfriend?" Richard asks briskly, his eyes enlarged.

Adrian refuses to repeat, but his hand grabs mine toward his knee and smiles at them while nodding. In response, Richard shifts uncomfortably in his seat, looking like a clown who's forgotten his red nose at home.

Silence prevails for a minute.

Charles clears his throat. "Honey, is the food ready? I think we should eat right away because Mr. Castle and I have some important things to discuss," he proposes.

"Yes. If you don't mind, you can all join the dining table for dinner," Susan offers halfheartedly.

I mentally roll my eyes. I wouldn't eat a thing from this house if it were up to me, but I'll do it for Adrian, even though I'm not sure if it's really for business that we're here or not. Something tells me that he's got his own agenda to be here.

Richard looks at me as I stand up, missing no part of my body since he's still seated on the couch. At last, I get to show him I'm fine despite the pain and hurt he caused me. Maybe he did break me back then, but my pieces are always here with me.