Bye-Bye Jerk, Hello Mr. Right

I grabbed Wayne’s collar and yanked him down, locking eyes with him as I slurred, “Hayden, you finally showed up… You jerk. What took you so long?”

His face hardened, and his grip on my wrist tightened. “Rea, you’re drunk. I’m not Hayden.”

“No, you are Hayden,” I said, tracing the curve of his brow with my finger. “You’ve changed. You don’t love me anymore… You left me…”

If there’s one thing men can’t stand, it’s being someone else’s substitute. And for Wayne, who’d always had feelings for me? My words were like twisting a knife straight into his heart. This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

Pain shot through my shoulder as he pinched it, giving me a small shake. “Look at me. Who am I?”

I stared at him for a beat, then let my lips quiver as I broke into full–on sobbing.

“Hayden, you’re such a jerk!” I wailed, tears streaming. “You’re the worst! Why are you bullying me?”

Tears: the ultimate trump card. Like clockwork, Wayne’s grip on my shoulder loosened.

I threw a few weak punches at his chest, more for show than anything. Instead of reacting, he just sighed, bent down, and scooped me up bridal–style. Without a word, he carried me right out of the private room.

The moment we hit the hallway, Cole materialized, smirking. “One bottle of pure white Scotch? Enough to knock anyone out cold.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from cursing him out. He thought he had me fooled. What a snake.

Fortunately, I’d come prepared.

Wayne ignored him, walking past as if he didn’t exist. Cole called after him. “Don’t forget to thank me later for setting you up with such a perfect night.”

Bingo. That smug little comment just confirmed my suspicions–there was definitely more going on between them than I’d realized.

Wayne carried me out of the club. Despite the danger screaming at the back of my mind, I knew I had to see this through.

He brought me to a penthouse I’d never been to before–not some sprawling estate, but sleek, modern.

He set me on the couch, his stare heavy and unrelenting.

I let myself slump sideways, selling the whole passed–out act. Dead weight, no sounds.

Then he leaned in. Close. I could feel his breath warming my skin, sending an icy shiver down my spine. When his lips brushed against the edge of my cheek, my whole body stiffened.

Stay still. Stay calm.

I knew he wouldn’t cross the line. Wayne wasn’t the type to act impulsively or force anything. If he’d wanted that, he wouldn’t have waited this long. No, this was him testing me–checking if I was drunk or faking it.

Just like I thought, he lingered, hovering close, but he didn’t go further. When I didn’t budge, he finally straightened up and moved away.

I cracked an eye open, scanning my surroundings. The penthouse was sharp and minimalist, almost identical to his house in Houston. Same taste, same vibe.

1/2

Same obsession.

People say obsessive men are terrifying, and now I got it.

Wayne was on the phone in another room. I couldn’t make out the words, but the call didn’t last.

Suddenly, loud pounding echoed from the front door, making my heart skip.

I didn’t flinch. Couldn’t blow my cover now.

Wayne hurried out of the room, ending his call as he opened the door.

Bang

The noise ripped through the penthouse. I saw it–Wayne staggered, clutching his chest, his face a mix of shock and pain. For a second, it looked like he was about to hit the floor.