I've knocked on her wooden door. "I'm coming! Hold on!" Her scream of irritation bleeds into the door. I laugh to myself at her comment. It's always fun pissing Quinn off. Seconds later, her footsteps approach the door and it swings open, her once angry face morphing into a huge smile.

"Oh my god! Come here girl!" she pulls me into a hug. She smells like lemon and vanilla and her hair is let loose displaying her beautiful curls. I engulf her back with the same intensity – perhaps a bit harder. I loved her to bits and pieces and even beyond that.

She drags me into her flat as I shrug out of my coat and hand her a bottle of her favourite red wine as a house warming gift which she graciously thanks me for. Her playlist filled with mostly Drake's voice floods through the speakers and we laugh about her recent foreplay mishap with her boyfriend whilst she stirs the pot for her well-famous chilli con carne.

Soon, my stomach is filled and my head feels weighted down with the two glasses wines I've had. Quinn has changed into her cupcake pyjamas and her and I sit on cross-legged on her white sofa, gossiping away about my work crush.

She perches herself up, "Okay, let's be serious here." I mentally and physically brace myself, crossing my arms over my chest. "Do you see a future with this guy?" She arches her groomed eyebrow at me, smirking over her unfinished wine glass.

She leisurely takes a sip, "He's only my colleague." I chide, giving her a pointed look. I've told Quinn about Jeremiah various of times and everytime I do, she notes how my infatuation has increased for him and how I should man up and grow some balls to ask him out on a date. I think I should too but... "It's not like that between us."

"Yet, he asked you out on a date today?"

I shake my head, "No, it wasn't a date. It was more like I found a new cafe and I'm lonely so come with me." I shrug, pursuing my lips at my words and the aftertaste of the berries in my mouth.

Quinn blankly stares at me for longer than a minute and I heat underneath her scrutinised gaze. She chuckles, blowing raspberries at my unconvincing words. "Are you sureee?"

"I guess."

She tuts at me like a mother would do when a child would spoil their brand new outfit. "Oh Bells, when was the last time you got laid?"

I almost choke at her question and stare flippantly at her. Her and I both know that I don't get much or any action in the bedroom. I work nine to five, come home to my depressing state of a home and fantasise about men from fiction whilst binging out Love Island - the usual. With my hectic work schedule, my ten million different responsibilities, several thousand papers to mark and the love I have for the kids, I simply don't have the time.

Yes, even for a casual hookup.

I play uncomfortably with the collar of my shirt, trying my absolute best to squeeze out of the question. "Well... not since you know..."

"Your ex who shall be not named."

My palm makes contact with my forehead as I try to surpress a giggle, "You can name him. He's not Voldemort." I claim as Quinn scrunches her nose in disgust at my ex's mention.

"From what I saw, he looked like him." I snort. She was definitely not a big fan of his. They hated one another.

I dish, telling her and myself the sad truth. "Yes, not since Franc." The sex between us wasn't that great, in fact, he was horrible. Fransisco was too rough, too demanding, too – too much. It was always about him and not what I wanted and I guess that reflected in various elements of our relationship. I chew the inside of my lip realising no man has given me an orgasm or made me feel. At this rate, if I was going to date someone – anyone, it would only be with the intention for marriage.

I once saw that with Franc, four years ago. Until, I found his lips locked with another woman when we were out with some friends at The Alchemist. From what I witnessed, he never kissed me like that – with so much intensity and desire and passion. With burning fever out as if I was the only thing to consume his thoughts. I pretended I did not see it, hoping and praying I was too drunk and hallucinating the whole thing. That was a mistake! And an underplay on my part. A week later, two woman were in bed with him. Caught red handed. The walls closed on me and I ran out like the coward I was.

Quinn's at the point of having a mental breakdown at my confession. "God, that was four years ago!"

I lean back on the sofa, gazing into the distance unable to meet her eyes. I feel ashamed? I feel self-conscious? That no one has wanted me since and I haven't been making the effort to seek someone out because I'm afraid of... of the sickening possibility of never being enough and them falling out of love for me. I feel lonely. "I know..." I gulp back something hard in my throat. It feels hoarse and dry.

Quinn notices me zoning out and places her soft hand on my shoulder, bringing me back. She offers me a small smile, asking me if I'm okay and I reply yes. Reliving bad memories always made me feel faint and nauseous.

There's a playful edge to Quinn's voice with a touch of reprimand out of sheer love. "Girl, what happened since then?"

I shrug meekly, "I don't know. I guess I got busy." The excuse is lame and we both know it.

She holds back a witchy chortle and her seeping judgement, "Well, you haven't busy in the bedroom that's for sure." I wack her with a pillow, her head collides with the sofa edge, her laughter vibrating through the flat.

"Fine," She rolls her eyes, "Busy with what?"

"Quinny, I love my job. It means a lot to me." I defend my love for my profession. I am practically married to it and in-line for a promotion. "I adore the kids, as annoying as they may be, I wouldn't trade it for the world."

Her fingers roll into a fist and places her underneath her chin, listening to my profound deceleration of love and same bullshit excuse for the millionth time. "You need to start dating again. At least, get laid again." There's a threatening spark in her eye. Something mischievous and brimming with terrible intentions and too much alcohol and loud music.

No. Priorities, priorities, priorities, I remind myself. Promotion, better pay... a better life for myself.

I dismissively shake my hand at her. "I'm busy." I affirm. My nose scrunched as the thought pops into my head. "And one night stands are not my thing. Who knows where that thing as been." It was true. You couldn't trust people with the way they moved. The amount of tinder horror stories I'd heard of in the last month almost made me want to delete the app permanently and declare myself a celibate for life. It was official, some people moved mad.

"Bella!" She screams, her irruption sending me cracking.

I push the joke more, testing the water, salvaging any sanity out of her. "Alright, as soon as I find prince charming I'll let you know." I wink at her at, giggling to myself as I down the remains of my alcohol.

"I'm being serious."

"So am I."

"It's not like he's going to come riding on his horse and sweep me off my feet anytime soon." She gives me a hard glare that weigh the same amount as bricks.

I divert the conversation away from the topic at hand and we sit and giggle, drink out our weight in wine (I drink moderately because I know I'm driving but that doesn't stop Quinn on the other hand) and then I decide it's time to leave. Quinn begs me to stay another ten minutes and I object telling her it's best if I leave now to arrive by 11 at my place, the drive being almost an hour away.

Not to mention, tomorrow was a big day and my bed felt the most comfortable in the mornings when it was time to go to work. She kisses me goodbye on the cheek and tells me she'll text me in the morning, falls dead asleep on the sofa by the time I'm out the door.

I'm thirty minutes into my drive and sleep is already heavy on my eyes. The road is somewhat silent for the area I'm driving in. I ignore it and think of a fast route in which I can cut through to make my journey less painful and more quicker.

After the roundabout, I take a sharp left.

That's when the lights blind me. The car came from nowhere, blinding me with its bright lights. The world passed me in a blur of red and white lights. The hiss of the tyres over the smooth tarmac became lost under the pounding of my heart. I clutch on for dear life.

Even if I'd been paying attention she would have been hard pressed to make the manoeuvre. The car jams into the bonnet, the crash making my whole body jolt forward and my foot presses down roughly on the break.

My breath's out of sync and I'm trembling, my hands are wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, knuckles white holding on for dear life.

"Who the fuck!" I scramble out of my car, London's cold air hits my bare legs underneath my pencil-skirt. My mouth drops open, assessing the sleek black chair that has caused substantial damage to the bonnet of my car. The dent was huge and the logo of the car was unreadable. I glance back to the black car. There's hardly a scratch on the smooth surface – expect a teeny tiny dent that's hardly noticeable.

The worst part, I saw my life flash before my eyes. I could've lost my life.

I see a man standing with his back turned. I march up to him. "Hey, you!" he doesn't turn.

"Are you fucking blind? You just crashed into me!" Hearing my scream at him, he turns around. His expression ice-cold, slowly brimming with irritation.

My eyes widen in disbelief. I could recognise that face anywhere.

Dimitri Asterio? His hair is disheveled and his attire contrasted to this morning's interview is blatantly casual – ripped jeans and a white shirt with his buttons open revealing the moulded tan skin underneath with a black leather layer over it. He was more handsome up close. You've got to be kidding me.

With his tanned skin, alluring blue eyes and impassive expression. I was left stunned and at loss for words because a goddamn billionaire had crashed into me. The man resembled a greek statute with his face.

Then it hit me, I wasn't supposed to be admiring him.

He had ruined my car!

And I don't care who he was.

There was no way in hell Dimitri Asterio crashed his car into mine... right?

I wave my hand in front of his face, annoyed when he continues to scowl at me. "Are you deaf and mute as well?"

He huffs, threading his hands through his locks. He quickly examines behind his back before turning to roll his eyes at me. "I don't have the time for this," he mutters under his breath.

"What? You don't have time for this? You were driving so recklessly that I could have lost my life!"

"Listen, I'm sorry I–" the burst of rage oozes out of me like a volcano. I will not show any mercy.

"You're sorry? You've just totalled my car!"

He glances behind his shoulder again. "I gotta go–" his voice is filled with panic. His hand threads into his jean pocket, pulling out his wallet. "Here's my card. Call me and I'll recover all the damages made."

I don't take it but he shoves the sleek black card forcefully into my hand anyways. "Whoa! Wait! You can't just hand–" he walks away with no care in the world, shutting the door of his sleek black car behind him.

I watch as he reverses his car backwards, freeing my car from the destruction. Before angling his wheels left and slightly driving past me. He rolls his windows down, "Call me," is the last thing he says before he races off into the night like a bullet.

"Call you!?" I scream after him but he never hears. "The fucking audacity!"

I turn on my heels, looking at my car. My money was tight this month and I still had to pay my rent. I didn't get paid until next month so how the hell was going to fix my car? My savings account was running and hanging on it's hinges to which I completely blamed my overindulged trip to Barcelona on. In my complete defence, it was a birthday present to myself and I went all out.

After pacing and panicking several times, I finally call a cab and call my breakdown service asking them to tow my car. Twenty minutes later, they arrive. Only after my car has been towed and I'm sitting in the cab with a grim expression, I notice the flurry of paparazzi that are hot on Asterio's trail.

————

the drama begins...