CHAPTER 11: NATASHA

NATASHA

Is that what he called it? Stupidity?

Last night, Mike left me hollow, his words echoing in my head, the pain between my thighs a raw reminder.

He began making me feel special, so he should end it by making me feel extraordinary.

I knocked on his door, bringing nothing but myself, clad in a red floral dress, just as I am.

Standing there, anxiety gnawing at me, I expected him to push me away as soon as he opened the door. Instead, an unfamiliar face of a handsome man munching on raw lettuce greeted me.

If Mike's hair is dark, this guy's is a mix of black and blonde. Piercing blue eyes scanned me from head to toe, but his cold gaze didn't match his warm smile.

Despite his good looks, Mike's charm would always outshine his. Why am I comparing them? Where is Mike?

"Hello," he greeted, leaning on the door frame, shifting his weight onto one leg. "Has anyone ever told you how perfect you are?"

His cliché pick-up line made me grimace.

Extending his free hand, he grinned. "You must be