RENT A HEART

EVE's POV

After checking into our hotel in Eritrea, we headed to a restaurant across the street for lunch. I craved the fresh air. The thought of being cooped up in that room, constantly staring at the bed, kept dragging me back to last night – a night that left me wound up and miserable.

Stephanie's voice cut through my thoughts. "You haven't touched your food, and you've been glued to your phone for the last half hour. Expecting a call?" She stared at me, suspicion etched on her face.

I hadn't told her about Chris. How would she react? I wasn't ready for that conversation.

"Uh, no. Just… checking emails," I stammered, finally picking up my fork. "Mmm, this is good," I mumbled, forcing a bite.

Stephanie finished her meal, then leaned forward, folding her hands in front of her. Her eyes narrowed. "I hate to be this direct, but what exactly are we doing here, Eve?" That was her 'I know you're hiding something' look. Infallible. I was cornered.

"Work, Stephanie. We're here for work. Remember the fashion show that's happening in less than a week?" I said, trying to project an air of casual normalcy.

"This so-called 'work' was scheduled for three days from now. And the designers were supposed to come here, inspect the textiles and materials before they're shipped. That's not our job, Eve. So tell me, what the hell is going on?"

"You should start your own company. You sound like a real CEO," I said, trying to deflect.

"Eve, I'm serious. Why are we here? Did something happen back home?" She was getting too close. It was only a matter of time before she figured it out.

"Does this impromptu trip have anything to do with Chris?" Stephanie asked, her eyes narrowed.

I sighed. She was too perceptive.

"I knew it!" she blurted.

"Shhh! People are staring," I hissed.

"What happened? Spill!" she urged, excitement dancing in her eyes.

"Chris and I slept together," I blurted, covering my face.

"Wait, 'slept together' as in shared a bed, or 'slept together' as in SLEPT TOGETHER? Oh my god!" She covered her mouth, finally understanding.

"Oh my god! Tell me, how was it?" she pressed.

I rolled my eyes. "Absolutely not. I'm not dissecting my bedroom with you, Stephanie."

"I'm not asking for details! Just... was the sex good?" She persisted.

Her question brought back the memory of last night, and I felt myself blush.

"It was perfect," I admitted, simply.

"Oh my goodness! I'm so happy and envious, girl!" she giggled.

"I love him so much, Steph. It hurts," I confided.

"Then why did you run off on this trip? You could have spent the whole week with him!"

"I freaked out, okay? I freaked out at how much he affected me. I was afraid I'd say something or do something to ruin what we shared. So, I wrote him a note and left before he woke up."

Stephanie's face registered pure shock. "Oh, you did not just do that."

I nodded miserably.

"Eve, put yourself in his shoes! That's not fair. Okay, have you called him since we arrived?"

"No. What would I even say? Besides, I said in the note I'd call him when I got back to the country."

"Oh, Eve, dear..." Stephanie sighed.

I heaved a sigh of relief after confiding in her.

Just then, her phone rang. My heart skipped, hoping it was mine.

"YG called. The director said we can meet their models today," she said after hanging up.

"Good. Let's go. We might as well kill two birds with one stone while we're here," I said as we left the restaurant.

Our meeting with YG went smoothly. We reached an agreement with their supermodels, who would be starring in our upcoming fashion show.

Word of my presence got out, and fashion companies and brands reached out for collaborations and investments. Stephanie and I were buried in meetings. Seizing the opportunities, I bought shares in promising startups. The schedule was so demanding that I had to send for the design team; I simply didn't have time to check out fabrics and materials myself.

The meetings helped steer my thoughts away from Chris as I concentrated on the show. Two days before the show, I went back home.

-----------

"All the models are in the country, settled in, and getting ready for the big day tomorrow," the head of the design team announced.

"Good. What about Lexi? I heard she traveled for a show a few days ago. Is she back?" I asked.

"She'll be back tonight. There was a slight delay in their departure," another team member replied.

The low hum of the staff meeting was a soothing distraction, a way to avoid the turmoil inside me. I was trying to focus on the show, on designs and budgets, but Chris consumed my every thought.

The past week had felt like a lifetime of dodging my own feelings. As I sat at the head of the table, I felt the dam about to break. The door swung open, and my heart lurched.

Chris stood there, a storm cloud personified. His expression was unreadable, but one thing was clear: he wasn't smiling. He wasn't happy to see me. My staff exchanged glances, their gazes then focusing on me.

"Eve," Chris's voice was low. "We need to talk."

The room went silent, thick with nervous energy. The unspoken question hung in the air. "Chris," I said, my voice calm despite my pounding heart, "can this wait? We're in the middle of an important meeting." I wanted him to leave, to deal with this later, on my terms.

"No, it can't," he said, stepping into the room. His anger simmered beneath the surface, but there was a visible vulnerability that made my own heart ache.

"Please excuse us," I told my staff, who hurriedly packed and left us alone.

"You just left. You left after that night with just empty words on a piece of paper and then went out of the country for a whole week, Eve. A whole week."

I was surprised to see him so vulnerable, so angry. It was the first time. It was obvious he was hurt, and I knew I was wrong.

He stalked towards me, like a predator, and as he got closer, the anger seemed to flicker, replaced by a different intensity. He stopped in front of me, and then, without warning, his arms wrapped around me, pulling me into a tight, desperate embrace.

My breath hitched. I went stiff for a moment, surprised by the contact. Then, almost instantly, my arms went around him, clinging to his strong frame. A mix of emotions flooded me: surprise, relief, and an overwhelming need to simply hold him.

I breathed in his familiar scent, a comforting aroma that had been haunting my senses for the last week. He held me tightly, as if afraid I'd vanish if he let go, and I didn't resist. I had dreamed of this.

He pulled back, his hands on my shoulders, his gaze searching mine with an intensity that made my heart flutter. The anger lingered, but it was mixed with something else. Something softer.

"I missed you terribly," he whispered, the words barely audible, but they resonated through me.

I reached up, my hand cupping his cheek. "I missed you too," I whispered back.

He was right to be upset. And I needed him as much as he needed me. I nodded slowly. We had to talk, but not about the show. About us. It was obvious now that we felt the same way