Arabel's POV
As soon as I park the car in the garage, I turn off the engine before stepping down.
As soon as I am out, my gaze flickers to the green car outside. The same car has been trailing me for a week since Daisy, Richard, and I arrived in New York.
They are Richard's men.
Our guards.
Seeing them behind me whenever I am out fills my insides with relief. Especially when I am out with Daisy.
Tonight, Daisy is staying over at Ashley's. When I told Richard, he insisted on having some men at Ashley's place, despite the tight security at Ashley and Caleb's home.
To be honest, I am deeply relieved and assured that nothing will go wrong.
Those men are capable. I have seen them.
Once.
We arrived in New York that night. I noticed how hefty they were. They were fully armed and would do anything to anyone who attacked Daisy or me, according to Richard.
If I was told years ago that I would trust Richard again, I would deny it. But in this case, I trust him.
Nothing is going to happen to my child. I really don't care if Alex comes for me, but my child must stay out of this.
As the days go by and my fear keeps dissolving little by little with no drama of Alex appearing or doing anything else, I can't help the dread I feel whenever I remember I have to go back to London.
It scares me to know that I have to go back to that house. Where Alex can easily get us.
But I have to.
My house is there. Daisy's school, too. We can't continue running away from our problems forever.
That's why I want to see Richard tonight and talk to him about it. He doesn't have to be back in London with me. All I need is for his men to go back home with us.
To assure us once more that everything will be fine.
I take the elevator up, and it dings open before I know it. I step out quietly, my gaze ping-ponging from my door to Richard's, unsure of how to face him after he tried to kiss me yesterday when he came to drop Daisy off when she fell asleep at his place.
When he wouldn't stop staring at my lips, I knew what he was thinking, and I was quick to step back, preventing him from kissing me.
This can't continue.
I can't let him kiss me whenever he wishes. I can't allow him to ignite the fire in me, which I thought had been quenched and would stay hidden forever.
I can certainly trust him with anything, but not with my heart. After everything I've experienced, I can't trust him with my heart.
After inhaling and exhaling repeatedly, I move to his door and gently knock on it.
As if expecting me to make an appearance, the door is thrown open immediately, revealing a shirtless Richard with sweat pouring from his face down to his chest.
I raise a brow. “You okay?”
Breathlessly, he answers. “Yeah, you want to come in?”
He opens the door wide for me to enter. I glance around with curiosity.
“I was exercising. I do that before going to bed since I don't have the leisure to do that in the morning before heading to work,” he informs me, surprising me.
This is new to me.
There is a gym back in the mansion, but I never saw him going there to exercise. Perhaps it was because we never shared a room except for one night.
Or perhaps it was because my room was much closer to the gym than his, and he was avoiding crossing paths with me.
It reminds me of how many days I spent without seeing him. Not even his shadow.
But that night—the one night we spent together made me feel special. Making me think he had always loved me but chose to ignore me. He had always admired me from afar but wasn't confident enough to announce that he was finally in love with his arranged bride.
The outcome of that night, which was our divorce, made me realize everything was just in my head, and I meant nothing to him.
“Oh!” I murmur, noticing his intense gaze on me. “I came to see you about something. Perhaps I can come back when you are done freshening up…”
I make for my door because of his shirtless body but Richard is quick to block my way. “Hey.”
My eyes keep drifting to that tattoo around his arm, which houses my name.
I don't want to feel anything. Not tonight.
“I will come back later,” I repeat, hoping he gets the message and lets me go, or perhaps wears a shirt to cover himself.
“No. What is it?” He drops his outstretched arms and crosses them around his biceps, giving me a clear view of ARAB but not of ELLA.
Shit!
“I…I…”
“Bella? Are you okay?” He begins to fuse around me, touching my forehead in concern.
“Yes, yes! I am fine!” I shrug off his touch, but not before it sends a chill coursing through my entire system, right down to my melting knees.
“Ok?” He is staring at me, urging me to go ahead with whatever I am here for.
Feeling stupid for not remembering what I came for, I blurt out. “Wear a shirt for crying out loud!”
He opens his eyes wide.
“Is this how you expose your chest to every lady that comes in here to visit?!” I find myself asking against my will.
Slowly, I watch amusement cross his expression, and he chuckles deeply, adding to my misery. “Every lady? No lady has come in here except you. That is, if my mother is an exception, but unfortunately, she is also a lady.”
It is not funny.
I am supposed to find it funny, but I am filled with rage. Anger that he finds my situation amusing.
“Wear a shirt!” I repeat, with gritted teeth. When he refuses to comply, I stalk to the sofa, grab his shirt, and stomp back to him, ready to throw it at him when he grabs my hand.
“I have a request.” His voice comes out in a whisper, his breath fanning my neck region and sending a shiver down my spine. “If you say yes, I will wear this shirt instantly.”
“What?!” I almost stutter again, but I am glad I didn't. I am gradually regaining control of myself, focusing my gaze on him instead of his exposed, broad chest.
That view is doing unimaginable things to my existence. Things I am not proud of voicing out.
With a smirk, he demands softly. “Go on a date with me.”
It jerks me back to my senses. “What?!”
Quickly, I step out of his grasp and glare at him with nothing but pure anger. “Richard!”
“Just one,” he pleads, the amusement on his face vanishing into thin air like it wasn't there. “I promise just one date, and I won't budge you on another. Please.”
“Richard…”
“You can't say no, Arabel. You can't say no, Arabel, unless you want me to start telling you how much I love you and keep repeating it until you believe me. If you don't want me to always be shirtless when we meet, then you must agree.”
My jaw drops. Disappointment fills my inside.
So this is it.
He believes he can use this to get to me. Use it to his advantage? Use it against me.
Was I that transparent? How did he know how uncomfortable it was for me to see him shirtless? Did I give myself away?
“Arabel, please. It's not a threat, but I just need you to say yes. If you do…”
“What exactly are you trying to prove?” I suddenly ask, making him blink back and look thoughtful for a while.
“I'm trying to do everything inhumanely possible to make you believe that I am sorry and a changed man. To make you believe that I meant what I said when I told you I loved you. To make you believe that I would never hurt you like I once did. If turning back the hands of time was possible, I believe I would have done things differently…”
“And chosen me?” I scoff. “You truly are a fool, Richard. We are divorced. We can't be together anymore. We can't go on dates…”
“Says who?” He interrupts me again, grabbing my hand and roughly slamming my chest into his, forcing me to immediately close my eyes.
That name is in view again.
Richard, stop doing this! I want to scream at him.
“Please, give me a chance, at least to prove myself. Please.”
“To prove what?” I ask, ready to keep up with the argument. He can't win me. “To prove that you like me now after your obsession has faded away?”
“Arabel…”
“To prove that I made a mistake signing the divorce papers that you requested,. I didn't ask you for a divorce, Richard. You did!” I poke his chest with my finger.
“Yes, and I am sorry.”
“You are forgiven!” I blurt out immediately.
“But not fully. If I have been forgiven, then you will go on a date with me and let the past be in the past.”
That hits a spot.
Let the past be the past. Focus on the present. And let the future take its course.
That was my father's word. His way of motivating us. Himself and everyone around him.
It makes tears spring to my eyes when I think of that man I always called my hero. He was my hero until Richard came along, and I fell hard for him.
It brings my mind back to another word of his.
'When a man loves a woman, he will do everything humanly possible to chase after, win, love, and make her happy. That was how your mother became mine forever to keep, till death.’
Hot tears roll down my eyes.
That love was what I wanted. What I wished for. The way he stared at her like she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
That was what I wanted.
The way he would kill to see a smile on her face.
“Arabel?” Richard holds my face in between his palms. “Oh, shit. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for reminding you about the past. Shit!”
I wipe my tears hurriedly, allowing him to caress my cheek.
“I'm sorry. I won't ask for a date anymore. It's ok; just don't be sad. I promise I will endure this and let myself suffer for my mistake by watching you from the sidelines, knowing full well that I can never have you back.”
As he speaks, pain keeps crossing his face. His eyes are filled with nothing but hurt.
And it makes me whimper.