, glamour, the sinful decadence flashlighted underneath the bright lights. I wished to be in Paris, strolling in the rain as soulful jazz poured through the Parisian streets. The energy of the cast was magnetising and I'm still rambling about it to Jeremiah as we walk home. Correction – being the gentleman he is, he insisted on walking me home because it got dark quickly and he didn't deem it as safe.

Beside, he had been over and parked his car in my driveway. I was stuck with him for the whole way home.

"Seems like you enjoyed it more than me. I'm glad I took you," Jeremiah laughs, pulling my wrist slightly as we turn the corner. I'm still buzzing and wobbling on my heels from the post-meal alcohol. Had one drink too many. It was a special occasion after all – dinner with Jeremiah, theatre with Jeremiah. What was not to be merry about?

"No, no. Thank you for inviting me along. It was fabulous," he ushers me inside the building, insisting he sees me well before heading out. All sweetness, chivalrous and polite. We trot up the stairs in silence before reaching my door. The night has come to an end and I'm left with the stomach tumbling memories of our delightful evening. He lets out a whistle, examining the stacks of packed boxes that decorated the side wall.

"What's with all the boxes outside your door?" Red fills my cheeks. I was bound to move into Dimitri's place in three days and not a single word from him. The sheer audacity.

I pursue my lips to the side, trying to explain to the best of my ability and make light conversation. "I'm moving," I simply replied.

"New house?"

"Hm, far more luxurious than this." He nods, continuing to stare at the boxes. The silence stretches between us - neither of us want this to be over.

I'm the first to speak up. "Seriously Jere, I can't thank you enough. Last week had been stressful already and you came and cheered me up." His lips curve with a gentle smile, he's staring down at me with his brown eyes twinkling. I can't help it and I shamelessly stare at him, admiring his strong features.

His skin is smooth, seems soft and not a single aftermath of a blemish chips on it. I briefly remember he said he struggled with acne when he was younger. The only sad thing about him is the purple sagging hues underneath his eyes from the late nights and work.

He was more dedicated to his students than they were to him. His Adam's apple bops up and down, his gaze drifts down to my lips. Without even realising, I'm backed up against the wall and Jeremiah is smiling down at me. "I just hope..." his voice drifts, a hoarse whisper. "... that nothing changes between us after your promotion," he's not talking about the promotion. He's good with conversations, hiding true meanings behind a vassage of speech. For a second, he seems conflicted like he's actually debating whether he should do it.

"What makes you think something will change between us?" my voice is stuck in my throat, it's a small whisper too. I'm delirious, my heart has stopped beating and for a minute, I'm screaming internally because I've been waiting for this moment for so long.

He's going to kiss me, he's actually going to it.

His lips move closer. Then my hand is reaching out to his chest, involuntarily creating space between us. Dimitri. The contract. The rules, the details, the breachment. I'm not allowed to do this? Am I?

He stumbles back, surprised, searching my eyes for any signs of uncomfort. His eyebrows dent in the middle, his face morphing into the saddest expression ever. I blink, staring down at my hand, simultaneously shocked.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I should've..." his voice trails off. I can't do this to Jeremiah when I'm supposed to be someone else's fiancé. That's cruel of me.

"I'm sorry Jeremiah. We can't kiss. You should leave." With the rise of his chest, he gives me a sharp nod, turning his torso to descend down the stairs.

"Goodnight," is all he says before I watch his frame disappear out the door. I'm left hating myself. That night I force myself to finish packing, swallow back a glass of red wine, with the sluggish buzzing of a Spanish telenovela playing in the background. Our situations are similar, Esmeralda is forced to marry a rich man to solve her family economic problem whereas I'm choosing to marry.

I pity the character heavily and the longer the buzzing of the television plays, the more rotten I feel as if it's some sort of personal taunting. The night slips in, I tell myself I'll feel better in the morning. Yet when the sun begins to rise over hellish London, breaking through the grey cloudy weather better never comes.

Monday morning. Today was one of those odds days in the school calendar when students and teachers got a break. Wouldn't argue with it, I deserve it with the weeks I'd seen. There was only one person who could cheer me up effortlessly - Quinn.

It was as she sensed me speaking about her that her name began to flash on my phone.

"I'm coming! I'm only a road away." She laughs, telling me to pick up my feet and get moving. I'm only two flat buildings away from Quinn's apartment when some guy standing in front of me calls my name. "Isabella Romero?" He has the most peculiar look on his face. His grey eyes are pin-dead on me as if I was the ghost of christmas past.

I lower the phone from my ear, "Yes?" How did he know my name?

"THAT'S HER!" He screams before I'm being bombarded by masses of flashes and the constant calling of my name. I freeze up, starstruck, Quinn's voice is white noise to the background.

"Where's the ring?"

"Is Dimitri Asterio your finance?"

"Would you like to comment on Dim–"

"Why would Asterio marry you? You're not–"

I'm too frozen and out of the space to realise that someone is dragging me, pulling on my hand and gently calling my name. "Bella, It's me Quinn. Come, ignore them." When did she get here? I'm not quite sure how I managed to walk, hardly scraping inside her flat door because the camera flashes never die down.

––––––––––

It's crazy how the morning has slipped into noon. This morning's meeting with the board has left him with a sour taste in his mouth, and only promises to worsen as the day goes by. Anwar bursts through the door. Without knocking, of course. "What the fuck Dimitri!" He's holding the iPad, the most angriest expression dented onto his face.

He sighs, "Give me another week. The board is almost ready," Being the chief financial officer was really chewing up his ass lately.

"No, no. That's not what I'm talking about!"

"What is it?" Anwar gives him a deadpan expression, passing the iPad to him.

Dimitri's eyes flick to him with a shrug as he registers that Anwar has opened an article on the iPad. It's from the Sol Newspaper and as soon as Dimitri sees the distinctive red background and bold writing, his heart stops beating.

"The article is fresh, posted ten minutes ago. It popped through the notifications as I was saving some documents. They just happen to be the leeches. It was first reported in the Overseer." The temperature soars, Dimitri's heating up instanously. His throat is turning dryer than the Sahara. Shit.

He scrolls down further and when he sees Bella's mugshot – her frightened expression captured and blasted all over the internet, he stops breathing. Her eyes are widened, the corners of her mouth creasing with anxiety. How the hell did she get bombarded with photographers on the street of SoHo? There was still a week to go until the engagement news broke out. He scrolls down further.

School teacher to marry Billionaire in this unlikely engagement of the decade. The sentence sends him boiling with anger. "How did they even find out?"

"You tell me! You said you had it under control." Anwar retorts back, his baritone bouncing off the walls. "Look at her D. She's so frightened and here you sit, not bloody contacting her for a week straight."

Dimitri shakes off the feeling of regret. He did want to contact her but his busy schedule got in the way. He wasn't being mean on purpose.

"I'm not sure but this was not planned for. I was officially supposed to propose to her on the weekend at my parent's estate." Anwar opens his mouth, another disapproval hanging. "Oh please and if it's the sol newspaper that's reporting this, you can't trust it. They're a vile tabloid. They thrive on garbage and will do anything for a cheque."

Anwar's pacing back and forth now, more stressed than Dimitri himself. "I swear to God, Dimitri if she loses her job because of this–"

Aisha bursts through the door. What was it with everyone not knocking today?

Anwar immediately stops mid-sentence. "The CEO of Antolin Corp himself called and asked for a meeting with you. He's called three times already this morning,"

Dimitri should become an actor. It's remarkable how he's acting normal. "A meeting with me? What for?"

Aisha shrugs, blinking placidly at him. Antolin Corporation? They were Asterio Industries biggest competitor, why on earth would they contact him?

Anwar shakes it off with a wave, "You're excelling on FTSE and they're simply trying to save themselves from going bankrupt which is why they're contacting you,"

Aisha opens her mouth to speak until her eyes land on the article on Dimitri's desk. She snatches it off him before he has the chance to stop her. Her face goes pale as she reads it. "Secret fiance? "What the fuck." She rapidly scrolls down the article and her mauve coloured mouth drops open when she realises the woman is Bella.

Dimitri and Anwar make brief eye contact, knowing they're in deep shit. It was time Dimitri started handing out his funeral invitation.

"I can explain,"

"It's fake," Anwar blurts out.

Aisha flips in his direction. She has to blink several times before the information settles in. Her manicured hand meets her hip, her eyebrow raised, telling them to elaborate. Dimitri begins narrating the whole fiasco, the shame burning rapidly across his body.

"Wait? You made her sign a NDA and now you're marrying her?" Dimitri slumps over his desk, wanting to escape everything for a brief second. "HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?"

His mouth sets into a firm line, he's sulking like a little child that's been denied candy. The silence is extremely loud. Aisha whips on her heels, turning to her husband. "And you know about this?" Her tone shrieks, the loud disapproval promising to not dissolve into the air.

Anwar nods, "Yeah he came over at four am while you were sleeping." He swallows a hard gulp, loosening his shirt collar.

"I'm so disappointed in you. Both of you." Anwar can no longer meet her eyes. He's regretting ever letting Dimitri into the house in the first place.

Dimtri throws his hands up, the frustration mounting on. "I was helpless."

"No, you were desperate." Aisha remarks, making him freeze in his tracks. She's right. He was desperate.

Anwar wipes his hand over his face, muttering a prayer. "Right, if I stay a minute longer I will go mad." he's already out the door like lightning leaving Dimtri alone with Aisha's blasting wraith.

Aisha's speech is white noise to his ears. She said something along the lines of marriage is sacred and she expected more from him. Hell, he couldn't tell - her anger was enough to send him running for the hills.

"Start acting like an adult and fix it, Dimitrius." Aisha sneers, her disapproval sounding so much like his mothers. With that said, her heels are clicking against the flooring and Dimitri is left staring at the wall alone. Two minutes later, Aisha comes running in again, popping her head in.

Dimitri groans, "If you have anything more to say, save it." he waves a dismissing hand.

"No, your mother is on the line."

"What?" he swivels on his chair, dragging himself to the landline. He brings the telephone receiver to his ear with a sigh. "Mummy?"

"Dimitrus Silas Asterio! I leave the country for three weeks for a business trip and come to find out my son is engaged?"

Shit. "Mummy, I can explain..." the problem was, he really couldn't.