Chapter 17

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Third Person's P.O.V

As soon as her eyelids fell shut, Bryce was by her side in an instant to prevent her from falling.

He steadied her by the waist, then got a hold of her legs to carry her bridal style. A sudden feeling of nostalgia came over him as he remembered all the times he had had her in his arms.

Whenever he carried her, they always ended up in bed...

He walked out of the kitchen and began to ascend upstairs to the master bedroom. Once in there, he placed her fragile, petite body on the king-sized bed carefully, so as to not awaken her.

Aubrey was sleeping soundly, releasing soft snores. A slight frown was etched on her face.

To Bryce, she hadn't even changed much. If anything, she had grown more beautiful, more attractive.

Her slightly tanned, porcelain face shone in the moonlight that was cascading through the slightly opened curtains. Her jet-black hair fell in delicate strands around her heart shaped face.


Bryce just couldn't keep his eyes off her.

"Aubrey," he murmured to her sleeping figure, stretching his hand to stroke her left cheek.

He wondered what she was going to say before she passed out. Maybe she was going to tell him that she never stopped loving him?

But that was impossible! Their divorce was per her request. She was probably just going to tell him that she never loved him at all.

He groaned lowly. "You know what?" He began, looking at her face. "I loved you too, so much so that I wanted to give you everything. I still do."

His phone began to vibrate in his pants' pocket. He reached down and retrieved it.

"What is it?" He voiced, running a hand through his immaculate hair, dishevelling it.

"Sir, we're downstairs with the stuff." Said the voice at the end of the line.

"Bring it up."

Soon after the hired driver had left Aubrey's apartment with her, a moving company had come to collect Aubrey's belongings.

If he was being honest to himself, all that had happened tonight was pretty much spontaneous. It's just that he had this nagging need to want to change Aubrey's life.

Out of guilt.

He admitted that he had withheld her from finding an occupation, only because he was sure he would be successful one day. In his mind, Aubrey would have been the perfect housewife. It would have been a pleasure to come back home to see his dotting wife, running around their house with their children.

But that's not how anything had transpired. Quite the opposite actually.

The doorbell rang. Bryce stood up and went downstairs to answer it.

"Come in," he said, allowing the crew to get into the condominium.

"Just place the bits of furniture where you see it's appropriate. As for the clothes, I'll take care of those."

A woman, the only one in the crew, handed him three suitcases and two boxes. Aubrey surprisingly had a lot. Maybe she had gone shopping recently.

The crew wasted no time in putting the stuff away. In about 20 minutes, they were already out of the apartment.

Bryce went back upstairs to put Aubrey's clothes away. She would definitely not be happy about him handling her clothing articles.

After he was done, he paced over next to the bed, beside Aubrey. He was sure she would have a killer hangover in the morning, so he made sure to place Tylenol by the night stand.

He threw a duvet over her figure. She shifted slightly but still didn't wake. Bryce crouched down then placed her deep kiss on her forehead, then his brushed a few tendrils out of her face. If only she had been conscious.

"Good night, my love." He announced softly, then left the room.

Meanwhile, Logan Hunter was seated at a table at El Fonci's, dining by himself. Not by choice, but because Aubrey had stood him up.

He sipped on his martini, looking at nothing in particular. Something didn't seem right to him, about her absence. Aubrey's neighbour, some chick whose name he had forgotten, had made it quite clear that Aubrey was excited about their date.

So, where the hell was she?

Just then, an uninvited guest sat on the seat opposite his. It was the last person Logan wanted to see, ever.

"What the fuck do you want, Roberts?" He seethed, placing the wine glass on the table.

Bryce smirked maliciously at him. "Why so glum, champ?" He asked, mockingly. "Did you get stood up by any chance?"

Logan laughed mirthlessly. "I knew this had your name written all over it. You do know that you don't own her, right?" He spat through gritted teeth.

"You're wrong about that, Hunter. Aubrey belongs to me and quite frankly, I don't like sharing." He countered smugly.

"Your stupid plan isn't going to deter me. I will have her, Bryce. I'm unstoppable."

Bryce stood up, then readjusted his tie. "We will see about that, Hunter."

Then he left. "Game on, prick." Logan said, as Bryce exited the restaurant.


Aubrey woke up with a terrible headache the next day. She felt like someone had used her head as a sledge hammer all night long.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes in an attempt to adjust to the light streaming into the room. Once her eyes had accommodated, shock engulfed her.

Her surroundings were completely unfamiliar. Maybe she had died, and gone to heaven.

The walls were painted stark white. The curtains donning the giant windows were also white, as was pretty much everything else in the room.

The closet doors where white, the dresser was white and the bed she was on was white. But the bed cover had a splash of grey on it.

This room practically screamed Bryce Roberts.

The incessant pounding in her head continued. "Argh!" She moaned, clutching her small head.

Then she spotted the Tylenol and a bottle of mineral water sitting on the bedside stand. She wasted no time in taking the medication.

Her phone began to ring. Aubrey stood up hesitantly, and retrieved it from her purse.

It was Savannah.

"Finally, you picked up, bitch!" She screamed into her ear. "I've been calling you all night!"

A confused expression crossed her face. "What? I didn't even hear my phone ringing."

"Logan stopped by last night but apparently you weren't at home. He was super pissed. Where had you run off to, Aubrey?"

Aubrey looked around the massive room, then spoke.

"I don't think you'd believe me if I told you."

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