I know what Dinah’s doing. She’s showing me that Petal actually cares for kids and can be a good mother, wife, the whole package. If she were a seller, Dinah would’ve had the highest sales.

Still, I have this urge to shake her and tell her not to show my little Petal’s pictures to anyone.

That’s not her fucking place.

A red mist covers my vision at the thought that she showed this picture to other men, letting them fantasize about a life with my little Petal.

Fuck them.

“Her name is Georgina —but we call her Georgie. She’s twenty-seven and a complete darling. She listens to me rant all the time and always tells me it’s going to be okay. She’s quiet and a hardworker.” Dinah blurts all the qualities as if she learnt them by heart. “And she’s so pretty.”

I can see that.

I’m only surprised how Dinah doesn’t see the fake smile on her friend’s face.

“I don’t know. She seems too good to be true. How come someone like her isn’t taken?”

“The same reason someone like you isn’t taken. Fate, my friend.”

This woman is an interesting one. I bet she still believes in fairy tales. “Give me something, Dinah.”

She bites her lip, contemplating how to break this to me without killing any hypothetical chance her friend has. “She’s just a loner. It’s nothing bad, it’s only that she prefers to be alone. She had two boyfriends, though. She can adapt.”

Two boyfriends. Interesting.

And will turn more interesting if any of those fuckers returns into her life.

I meet Dinah’s gaze with my suspicious one. “Do I have your word for it?”

A shit-eating grin nearly splits her face open. “Oh, absolutely!”

My entry into my little Petal’s life is done for.

My plan is already in motion.

8

Georgina

"Oh my God, have I got the guy for you," Dinah gushes to me at work. "You're going to freaking love him."

"I don't think so." I grimace, pushing away the remnants of my sandwich. "I still haven't completely recovered from the mess that was Dr. Martin."

My friends cringe and Katya reaches for my hand, saying, "I totally understand the hesitation, but you really wanted to meet someone before all this happened, didn't you?"

"I guess," I mutter.

I don't want to admit the truth, which is that I've been feeling more than ready for a relationship for years now. The crippling loneliness of sharing my apartment with nobody but my cats is getting to me, and just for once in my life, I want to have someone who supports me, who pushes me forward just like I've always pushed myself. I'd revealed my innermost thoughts with my friends weeks ago, before the mess with Dr. Martin. I know they want to help me because they love me, and want the best for me, but I really don't think I'm ready for somebody to break my bubble.

"Please," Dinah pleads with me. "I swear, this guy is different. I just know you’ll like him."

"Where did you meet him?" I ask her cautiously.

"At the coffee shop down the street from my apartment," she grins. "He was great with the kids."

"So why not keep him for yourself?" I wink at her.

"Too young," she shrugs with a devilish smile. "But believe me when I say he's charming, and sexy. Plus, you could cut your tongue on that jaw of his."

"Anything else you want to add?" I giggle. "Please convince me you don't want him, because I'm sure not getting that impression."

She shakes her head vehemently, convincing me the guy is perfect for me and she knew it the second she met him. After half an hour of both her and Katya convincing me to meet the guy, I finally cave and agree to meet him. The girls are delighted, and a triumphant Dinah fires off some texts before letting me know my date will pick me up at seven at my apartment. I want to regret agreeing to the whole thing, but something tells me this might be exciting, and as butterflies start to flutter in my stomach, I begin to wonder what the guy will be like.

Jasper, Dinah said his name was.

I try the name on my lips as I get ready for him that evening. I shower and take special care to shave. Everything, from my legs to my armpits and my pussy. I hesitate before I do it, lingering with the razor over the curls on my pussy. But then I run it over, getting rid of the hair. I scrub myself with strawberry body polish and apply lightly scented lotion. I'm reminded of getting ready for my last date, with Andrew, but quickly banish the thought from my head.

Picking out a light pink lingerie set, I slide into a simple blue dress after. Two spritzes of perfume and some quick makeup, and I'm ready to go. I contemplate between my two pairs of heels – one expensive, saved for special occasions, the other a budget variation of the first which I should wear for dates – but never get the chance to pick. The doorbell goes off and I run to the door to greet my date.

I press the button for the intercom, but then there's a knock on the door. I'm not ready yet, but he's already upstairs. Fuck.

I smooth down my dress and flick my hair. Running to the door, I look out through the peephole and swallow thickly when I see the guy.

He's wearing black jeans and a leather jacket with a white shirt underneath. He's... dangerously sexy. His jaw is covered in light stubble and his eyebrows are knitted together as if he's displeased with me already. His lips are full, and he has a cigarette between them, unlit.

Right then, he looks directly into the peephole.

I jump back, quickly unlocking the door and opening it wide.

He takes his time devouring me with his eyes. The way he looks at me, from bottom to top, his eyes lingering on my bare feet, makes me feel faint. He slides his gaze over my curves, waiting a beat too long on my chest, and then up to my face. He doesn't smile when he meets my eyes, he just stares me down like he's waiting for me to faint at the sight of him or something. I'm about to write him off as cocky when something hits me.

I've seen those blue-gray, stormy eyes before.

Where have I seen them?

My heart skips a beat as he finally smirks at me, removing his cigarette and asking in a deep, growly voice, "Well? Can I come in, or are you leaving barefoot?"

"Of c-course." I bite my tongue for stuttering and step aside, allowing him to enter the apartment. The cats stare at him warily from across the room. "I'll just grab my things and we can go... These are Mr. Bingley and Mrs. Hudson."

"Cute," he mutters, but his eyes never leave me, watching me walk frantically from one corner of the apartment to the other.

I grab my handbag and a light coat and stop in front of the heels again. After a moment's thought, I put on the more expensive ones, and when I turn around to face Jasper, his smirk is all-knowing, as if he knows exactly what decision I just made.

Jasper towers over me as I follow him out of the apartment, locking the door behind us. I give him a nervous smile as I follow him to the parking lot under the building.

"Which one's yours?" I motion to the cars, and he leads me to a Mercedes that looks out of place in this neighborhood. I give him a suspicious look but climb into the passenger seat without comment. The guy actually holds the door open for me and even closes it, but instead of enjoying the gentlemanly move, I feel suspiciously like he's just successfully trapped me in his car.