Footsteps echoed through the alley as a group of men in black suits appeared. As they drew closer, Carmen felt him press her back against the wall, his touch growing more intense. His lips met hers—not with romance, but urgency—and the thought of her first kiss being stolen by a stranger filled her with rage. As the men passed, oblivious to their moment, he pulled away.
Carmen glared at him, furious. "What the hell was that? Who said you could kiss me?"
He shrugged, smirking as he leaned against the wall. "Relax, princess. It worked, didn't it? They ran right past us."
Her glare could've pierced his skull, but he looked unfazed. He just chuckled.
"That doesn't give you the right to use me," she snapped. "I'm not some tool for your survival."
He frowned, then snapped back, "Oh, please. Don't act like it's the worst thing that's ever happened to you. Besides, judging by that look, it's not like you've had much kissing practice anyway."
Carmen flinched but masked her hurt, crossing her arms and looking at the ground. "Wow. And here I thought you couldn't get more obnoxious. Guess I was wrong."
"Face it—you should be thanking me." He leaned in closer, smirking cruelly. "Who else would look twice at someone who always looks like she just crawled out of a fight?"
"You're disgusting," she hissed, her voice trembling. "You think you're better than everyone just because you can talk fast and run faster. But guess what? One day, you'll run out of people to use. And then what?"
"I'll survive. That's what I do." He rolled his eyes. "Unlike you, playing the victim. Next time, don't bother helping me."
She stepped forward, jabbing a finger into his chest. "You're right. I won't. Next time, I'll let them find you—and trust me, they'll be worse than I ever could."
He laughed mockingly. She stepped back, confused by his reaction.
"You'd miss me too much, sweetheart." And with that, he walked away.
"I wouldn't miss you even if the world was ending!" she shouted after him.
He glanced back briefly, but his smirk faded as he disappeared into the shadows. She clenched her fists, swallowing the cocktail of anger—and something else she couldn't name. That boy was infuriating.
At the other end of the alley, the boy let out a deep sigh. As he crossed the street, a sleek car pulled up beside him. He frowned. The door opened, and a man in a grey-toned suit stepped out. His leather shoes hit the pavement with a sharp thud, his posture poised and professional as he buttoned his jacket and walked toward the boy, hands clasped behind his back.
"Young master, please," the man bowed.
The boy scoffed. "Please, sir, I beg you."
He glanced at the old man, who strained over his bow, and sighed reluctantly. "Fine."
He walked to the passenger side, and the old man quickly opened the door for him.
"You know, you don't have to call me young master," he said, sliding into the seat. "I prefer Rowan."
"Of course, sir Roman. My deepest apologies," the man replied, closing the door before taking the seat beside the driver.
The engine growled to life, and the car disappeared down the road.
Meanwhile, it took Carmen nearly thirty minutes to figure out the GPS location Sage had sent. Eventually, she spotted them near an ice cream stall. The sun was already dipping below the horizon, casting orange hues across the sky—hues that reminded Carmen more of her fading freedom than her growing independence. She slumped onto the bench beside her friends.
"So, aren't you gonna tell us what happened?" Mila asked first.
Carmen pouted, avoiding their curious gazes. She was too embarrassed to speak of the boy in the alley.
"I know—she'll definitely talk after we get her an ice cream," Emily squeaked.
Mila nodded. "You're right. Go get some."
Sage sat beside Carmen, lowering her voice. "Nothing happened, right?"
Carmen nodded a little too quickly. Sage's eyes narrowed.
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Why would I lie?"
"Because if your parents found out, we'd be dead for sure," Sage said bluntly.
Carmen sighed, nodding. "I promise, nothing major happened. I just got lost. It's... kind of embarrassing."
Sage's eyes drilled into hers like she could sense the lie buried beneath the surface.
"Okay. I'm just glad you're okay." She smiled, and Carmen forced one in return.
Mila returned with an ice cream cone and handed it to her. "Thanks," Carmen mumbled.
"We should go around one last time. The market's almost empty," Emily suggested. They nodded and rose to their feet.
As Carmen walked, her mind drifted back to the alley. Her cheeks flushed and she shook her head, as if she could erase the memory. But the boy's cruel words replayed in her head, clenching her fists with each one. She was a respected young woman, the only daughter of the Brown family and heir to the family business. She refused to let the words of a nobody shake her—but they did. Her fury bubbled to the surface, and she didn't even realize she'd crushed her ice cream cone until the cold liquid trickled down her fingers. With a frustrated sigh, she tossed it into a nearby bin.
"What time is it?" Mila asked.
"Almost five," Sage answered.
The girls turned to Carmen.
"Aren't you supposed to be home before your parents realize you're gone?" Emily asked.
"Oh yeah... I think it's too late to catch the bus. I'll request an Uber instead," Carmen said, reaching for her phone.
"Don't bother," Mila said, pointing toward the road. "Looks like you've already got a ride."
Carmen turned—and gasped.
A car pulled up along the pavement. The window rolled down, revealing a stern-faced middle-aged man.
"Girls," he greeted. "Don't mind if I take Ms. Brown home, do you?"
"Unkie? What are you doing here?" Carmen asked, forcing a nervous smile. She acted surprised, like she hadn't been caught red-handed. But Unkie wasn't a man easily fooled.
"Shouldn't the question be directed to you, Carmen? Your parents are infuriated."
She sighed. "I should've guessed." Turning to her friends, she waved goodbye and stepped into the car.
---
Rowan stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and collapsed onto his bed with a sigh. Running a hand through his damp jet-black hair, he paused, fingers brushing his lips.
"Did she eat red pepper or what?" he muttered, smirking. "My lips burn."
Clicking his tongue, he got up and headed to his walk-in closet to dress. Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Half-dressed and hair still damp, he opened it, towel in hand. His parents entered—his father with a deep frown, his mother with disappointment clouding her face. Rowan didn't even glance at them. He already knew their expressions.
"You've humiliated us, Rowan!" Mrs. Bronson hissed. "The Browns have been waiting for over an hour!"
Right. He'd forgotten about that.
"I said I'm sorry. Can we just get this over with?" he muttered.
His father's expression hardened. "It's time. This is your future, son. Show some respect."
"Yeah, sure. Respect. Got it," Rowan grumbled.
His mother fussed over his denim jacket, adjusting it for what felt like the hundredth time. He tolerated it—better than being forced into a suit for a girl he didn't care about.
"You look so handsome, Ro," she cooed.
Mr. Bronson cleared his throat. "This marriage isn't just about you and the girl. It's about the future of our families."
Rowan rolled his eyes and shoved his hands into his pockets.
---
The sun-drenched living room was heavy with expectation. The scent of freshly brewed tea hung in the air as the Brown family sat on the plush couch, all polite smiles and stiff excitement. Mrs. Brown, her gold jewelry catching the light, leaned forward eagerly.
When the Bronsons entered, the Browns stood.
"There he is!" Mrs. Brown beamed. "Rowan, meet our lovely Carmen."
Carmen turned slowly, smoothing the back of her dress as she stepped forward—only to freeze when she met his eyes.
"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered.
Rowan's jaw dropped, then clenched. "Her?!"
Mrs. Bronson blinked in confusion. "Do you two know each other?"
Carmen forced a smile through gritted teeth. "Nope. Not at all."
Rowan matched her expression, voice cold. "Never seen her before in my life."
Their parents beamed, oblivious to the storm brewing beneath the surface. Carmen and Rowan stood side by side, locked in a silent battle of glares—their hatred crackling like thunder before a storm.