Deal With The Devil

Oh, God.

I think I might throw up from anxiety and nervousness.

I straighten my hair with a hand and try to swallow the bile in my throat. It's been two years since I have assisted a charity gala. Two years since I have appeared to the public at all.

Which means they expect a big announcement, probably me going back to modeling, and that's exactly what I am going to give them.

Two years ago, I decided to put an end to my modeling career. Nobody knows the reason why. I just moved from the old mansion, where I lived with my parents to my own apartment in New York.

Of course, everyone wondered why the heir of one of the most influential families in the US, would all of a sudden stop doing what she loved most, and live almost anonymously for two years.

Well, let me clear that up real quick.

The handsome guy who's standing a few feet from me, ignoring me as best as he can is the reason why.

My train of thoughts is quickly stopped by my best friend Cleo, who's waving at me from across the room. I walk over to her and hug her tightly.

"I've missed you so much," I say pulling back to look at her. "You look amazing !"

And she did. The blonde haired girl was wearing a long sleeveless red dress, with a slit from her right foot to her thigh which exposed her white porcelaine skin. Her lips were painted red, and that detail complimented her dress color, and made her brown eyes look even more bright than they already were.

One look around, and you could see how every man in the room was eyeing her.

She gave me a big smile and said, taking my hand in hers. "You look beautiful, too. How do you feel ?"

I grimace, then remember we are in a room full of people with their attention on my every move and that the media would be there in a few minutes. So I do what I do best, smile through the pain.

"I feel horrible. Really. I'm so nervous I might pass out right here."

The blonde gives me an understanding look and tightens her grip on my hand.

"It's going to be okay, Esme. You are one of the bravest people I know, and you're amazing. And they love you. You're going to kill it. Even that asshole, Milo will give you heart eyes by the end of the night."

This time I don't hide my wince. Talking about Milo Chase is literally a taboo subject for me. Cleo is the only person who knows the full story. Well, my side of it, at least. What happened that day. The day that broke me so hard that I'm still suffering because of it. Because of the consequences of my actions. Because of me.

"Oh, I'm sure he'd like to see me trip in the stairs and never get up again." I rolled my eyes, trying to look nonchalant but the thundering in my chest didn't falter.

Two years since I saw him in person. Two damn years. And I don't know what hurts more, seeing him with the woman he brought tonight or just the fact that he is here. In the same room as me.

Maybe, karma finally got me. Maybe, him being here, in this charity gala, the day of my announcement is just a way to punish me. For everything I did.

"You realize, you two are going to have to talk to each other tonight, right ?" She asks me, her eyes drifting over to the enormous buffet situated in the middle of the room.

Right.

He is the one who's going to present me to the public.

A part of me hoped he wouldn't show up and that the job would be given to someone else. But he is the Chase heir, the son of the very people who organized this event. Him not coming would make even more noise than my big return.

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. There is no way out of this. My parents were clear. Me retreating from the "celebrity life" affected my family and their fortune, so like they said, if I don't want them to lose everything I will have to model again, to do things that I did not find joy in anymore.

Even if it means losing myself in the process.

"Earth calls to Esme." I startle at my friend's voice, who's now looking at me with eyes full of worry, and I realise she hasn't let my hand go. "Are you sure you're okay ? Do you need me to tell your parents you can't do it ?"

I shake my head again and take a deep breath. I can do it. I can do it.

"No, I'm fine, Cleo. Just a bit nervous."

She's about to say something, when a lot of shouting erupts from the entrance of the room, and what seems like thirty people with flashes, cameras and microphones start running toward me.

I'm going to pass out. Literally.

Quickly, the bodyguards start forming a line between me, all of the people there and the paparazzi. One of them lead Cleo and I to another private room.

They weren't supposed to come in right now. They were supposed to wait until the gala started.

I immediately collapse on the couch behind me and put my palms over my face. Cleo sits next to me and runs a hand in my back, silently comforting me.

My breath is caught in my throat and my vision starts to blur.

Shit, shit, shit. Not here, not tonight.

I try to talk, but my throat tightens and I start to feel nauseous.

Oh my God.

"Hey, Esmeralda, are you okay ?" I can hear panic in her voice. She gets up quickly and fills a glass of water and hands it to me. I shake my head. No. This is not what I need.

"What do you need ?" She shouts, and when I don't—can't respond she says, "I'm going to call someone alright? Hang on."

"No." My voice is rasp but she has already opened the door.

I try to focus on my breathing.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Take a deep breath, hold it for a few seconds, then let it out.

Take a deep breath, hold it for a few seconds, then let it out.

That's what he always told me.

But it's not working. Shit, it's not working. It always works.

The realization of that makes me panic even more, and I don't hear the door open and close. Cleo and two other people come in.

I blink a few times until my vision is clear and my heart skips a few beats. Milo Chase and his brother are standing right in front of me. When I am having a freaking panic attack.

Oh, fuck.

I didn't know it could get worse but it does. At this point, I can't even hold my breath, and a sob wrecks my whole body.

"She's having a panic attack. Help her, please." Cleo pleads, a hand in her hair.

With a small curse, Milo kneels before me and holds my shoulders tightly. And for a second everything stops. I just look, and look, and look at him. He hasn't changed. His dark hair is a bit longer but he is exactly as I last saw him. His green eyes are still the most beautiful I've ever seen. But his features are harsh, as if he doesn't want to be here as much as me.

He shakes my shoulders lightly.

"What do you need ?" His voice. Oh lord, his voice hasn't changed, and for a moment, I remember. For a moment, I remember the sound of his voice breaking. The tears streaming down his face, distorted by pain. Pain that I inflicted to him. To my best friend in the entire world.

I try to talk but my throat hurts.

"Breathe, Esmeralda. What do you need." More of a command than a question.

"My...inhaler" I manage to say, trying to ignore the fact that he just called me by my name for the first time in two years.

Ellis, who was standing behind him walks around the room trying to find it.

"Purse." Is the only word that comes out of me.

Cleo gets my purse and takes the breather from it. She quickly gives it to me, I try to grab it but my hands are shaking so bad that I drop it.

Milo is immediately moving as he retrieves it from the floor and brings it to my lips. I open my mouth and he puts it in, activating it. I take deep breaths, and when he takes it off, it's like someone just pulled me from underwater.

I'm panting, but breathing. My panic is slowly taking off and I close my eyes for a few seconds.

Milo stands up, straightening his white shirt, and puts his jacket back on. Jacket that I didn't even notice him taking off.

I open my eyes as I take him in slowly.

His chest is as well sculpted as he was the last time I saw him and his arms are even bigger. He crossed them around his chest and takes a deep breath, as if restraining himself from yelling at me.

That, is definitely not how I expected our first meeting to go.

"The ceremony started. You have five minutes." His voice is cold as he turns around and reaches for the door.

"Thank you." I say, voice weak.

He halts and stiffens for a second as he puts his hand on the doorknob.

"I did not do it for you. I did it so my parent's money, doesn't go to waste."

He and his brother step out.

And all I am left with is shame.