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Jack draws Sarah close to him, and even from this distance, I can see the hunger in his eyes, the love seeping through this former playboy’s soul. The two lovebirds are so wrapped up in themselves they don’t even notice they have an audience.

The afternoon sunlight bathes them in a spotlight, making Sarah’s orange tresses seem like a warm fire burning in the hearth, with Jack’s inky black hair the coals keeping the fire alight.

A soft breeze flutters by, disbursing the sweet scent of wildflowers within this hidden courtyard—one of many in this elaborate building—The Orchid.

With the twining dark vines and vibrant hedges behind them, these two look like the definition of soulmates only needing love to sustain them.

“I love you so much, Sarah.” Jack’s murmurs travel across the intimate space.

My heart, the long dead muscle, spasms in an effort to come back alive, as if shocked by the defibrillator paddles of the emergency room. But the spark fizzles, leaving only a charred muscle and a flashing pain.

My eyes dart away and sweep over the rest of the long table where my siblings and their spouses sit, the couples very much in love with each other, smiling at the new lovebirds joining their ranks. A question I asked myself a long time ago resurfaces. Don’t you want what they have?

For the longest time, my answer has been no, I couldn’t care less.

But now, as I tell myself the same thing, a nagging itch forms behind my rib cage, my mind whispering, taunting with glee… you liar. I brush the voice away, not wanting to hear more nonsensical words, not wanting to know what or who caused the change.

My fingers fiddle with the paper chopstick sleeve and start folding it in half, and in half again. Unfold it and start over.

The damn corners won’t line up.

Love is a liability and a game of Russian Roulette.

Yes, my siblings, and now Jack and Sarah, may have hit the jackpot, somehow all magically standing alive after their bout with the revolver.

Perhaps their gun didn’t have a bullet in the chamber.

But not everyone is so lucky. The odds are grim and not on our side.

Just look at my parents’ marriage, two people who shouldn’t be together, but are bound with no means of escape.

One person forever pining for the love of the other, the love which has long been given away.

A dreadful, hopeless torture until the end of days.

The one and only time I let a woman in my life, allowing her to peek under the first set of locks to my soul, she torched the chamber, then fled and disappeared, leaving me to deal with the ashes.

And it was only friendship, not even love.

It can’t be love.

My chest spasms.

I’m a Kingsley, and Kingsley men don’t let emotions get the best of them.

My hand curls into a fist, crushing the paper sleeve, as my chest hardens, a poor attempt at smothering the flames of pain with sand. I swallow the lump in my throat as I turn back to the new happy couple, who still seem to be oblivious to our presence.

“Jack…” Sarah whispers as Jack’s head dips down, no doubt ready to demonstrate his love in more physical ways.

Even though love is not for me, I’m happy for them, having known both of them for years as Sarah Winstead and Jack Szeto are Emily’s and Adrian’s best friends from high school, respectively, who took the scenic route to get together, even though it was obvious to all of us, except for Sarah that Jack carried a torch for her for a very long time .

I clear my throat, not wanting to witness a make-out session from my two friends. “You know you guys have an audience, right?” I smirk at the shocked expressions on their faces when they whip their heads toward us.

Arching my brow at them, my eyes connect with Jack’s. You sappy piece of shit. How could you have missed us sitting out here all along?

The happy couple blushes and Sarah tugs Jack toward the table.

My siblings all wear beaming smiles on their faces.

Emily, her dark hair piled high on her head, is biting her bottom lip, her body bouncing with leashed excitement.

Adrian has his arm around the back of her chair, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her shoulder.

Jess smiles warmly and her husband, James, the sucker who spent his entire childhood and part of his adulthood in a sad unrequited love relationship with my sister, tilts his lips in a half grin.

Two servers, dressed in the crisp, blue uniforms of Kobayashi, one of the on-site award-winning restaurants at The Orchid, carry trays of an assortment of food, ranging from sashimi, hand and sushi rolls, chirashi bowls, the freshest fish I’ve tasted outside of the seafood markets in Tokyo.

Platters of dishes decorate the table, an array of bright colors of pinks, oranges, and whites from the thinly sliced fish to the pops of green from cucumber, avocado, and side salads in sesame dressing.

“What’s this?” Jack asks Sarah. She grins and they take a seat.

“A surprise celebration for your promotion. I know you didn’t want to make a big fuss about it, but you deserve celebrating, Jack. Everyone, except Steven here, flew in yesterday. James and Jess even left the kiddos at home with her parents to come visit.”

Jack is one of the key management members at The Orchid.

He was the entertainment manager all guests sought after because he’s infamous for solving problems creatively and seamlessly, which says something about his hustling skills since dealing with stuffy rich people who are used to getting everything their way can’t be an easy job.

Because he excels at his job, Ryland and the rest of the Andersons finally promoted him to a role he very much deserves .

“Director of Special Events at The Orchid,” I comment, slapping him hard on his back. “Moving up in the world, my man.” My lips curve into a smile. “Proud of you.”

“All thanks to Adrian for giving me the opportunity in the first place. And…” Jack’s voice turns raspy, as if overcome with emotions.

He, like Adrian, grew up poor and had to fight his way up the food chain, so I’m sure this promotion means a lot to him.

“Thank you all for coming all the way over here.”

“It’s all you. I only provided an introduction. Even though I wonder what they saw in you, jackass,” Adrian mutters sardonically, but a glint of fondness shines brightly in those crystal blue eyes.

The meal goes without a hitch and all of us take turns making fun of Jack, who is completely besotted with the woman next to him. Now, with hearts in his eyes, he’s saying some sappy shit to Sarah. “You’re always right and I’m always wrong.”

The men all groan at the table at his declaration. “Don’t do this, Jack, you’re setting a terrible example for the rest of us.” James feigns puking, before Jess pokes him in the side, to which James curls an arm around her shoulder and presses a kiss to her hair.

“Completely pussy-whipped. None of this looks appealing,” I grumble, feeling completely out of place with all this nauseating love in the air.

“What do you think about what Jack said, Adrian?” Emily bats her lashes at Adrian, who’s staring at her like he worships the ground she walks on, a look I recognize when I first saw him twelve years ago when he was the poor boy who showed up to my sister’s piano recital at school.

Adrian murmurs, “You’re always right.”

My heart pinches, a postmortem spasm, and I roll my eyes, before tossing my napkin to the table as everyone laughs at my expression.

Don’t you want what they have? The annoying voice whispers in my head. I grip the napkin on the table and wet my lips, pasting a smile on my face.

Squeaaaak .

The door to the courtyard slams open, the sound echoing in the intimate space.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I can feel the prickling of goosebumps on my arm, which has nothing to do with the burst of cool air filtering out from the open doorway.

My pulse picks up for no reason and the air thins and feels different.

I hear the faint sounds of someone sniffling as everyone looks behind me with apparent shock on their faces. Frowning, I begin to turn around to see what the commotion is all about.

“Excuse me, miss. Are you okay? Do you need help?” Jack’s deep voice travels across the courtyard as I finally get a look at the interloper interrupting our meal.

Time, for all intents and purposes, ceases to matter.

My heart resurrects, the sight before me more effective than any electrical paddle in the hospital.

My pulse rushes in my ears with the force of a cyclone.

My lungs seize as I slowly rise to a standing position of my own accord.

Everything slows and every cell in my body hums to life after a long slumber.

A beautiful brunette stands mere feet before us.

My eyes cascade up her toned legs, which glimmer with whatever makeup or lotion is on them, to the luscious body with curves for days, clad in this dress—if you can call it a dress—made only of chains of pearls, no fabric to be seen, revealing an expanse of smooth, pale skin playing peekaboo between the chains, heavy teardrop breasts swaying with each breath she takes, small nude colored stickers covering the nipples, and a skin-tone scrap of underwear between her legs.

But it’s not the obscene display of flesh designed to entice our amorous natures that gives me pause—beautiful women are a dime a dozen at The Orchid, it’s the elfin face, slimmer than I remember, and the large, brilliant eyes, a deep purple in the sunlight, and the perfect cupid’s bow lips, coated in a deep red lipstick.

The face that has been haunting my waking hours and lonely nights .

My lungs finally release the breath I’m holding, the sudden shift of the weight off my chest disorienting, and I rake in another deep inhale before I find my voice.

“Grace?”

My voice is rusty, my breathing coming out in pants.

I step forward, my mind and body not registering what I should do next.

I want to run to her and wrap her up in my jacket to block her from the eyes of everyone else in the courtyard.

I want to grab her arms, pull her against me, and ask her what the hell is going on and why she disappeared without a trace.

I want to know why the tears are trailing down her face.

I want to know who hurt her so I can tear them apart piece by piece, delivering revenge tenfold.

I want to fold her into my arms and whisper everything will be all right because I’ll take care of her.

Because we are never alone when we have each other.

I want to curl my hands around her face and finally fulfill the biggest regret I’ve had in my thirty years on this planet.

I want to kiss her. Fuck, do I want to kiss those pouty red lips.

Instead, I bite my cheek and do nothing. Other than asking, “Is that you?”

My heart is a tsunami behind my rib cage, every muscle in my body fighting the impulse to act on my desires.

The world is suddenly in technicolor again, the vibrant hues of spring after a barren winter.

The brunette gasps in surprise as she turns her attention away from Jack to me. Her eyes widen, her beautiful lips trembling for a split second before her expression shutters. She takes a deep breath and wipes the wetness on her cheeks with the back of her arm.

“Y-You’re mistaken, sir.” She stares at me like I’m a stranger. Her face is devoid of emotion. Cold. Numb. Indifferent.

But those eyes…I’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

She turns back to Jack and murmurs, “I’m fine. Just some bad news at home. Sorry for the interruption. Please enjoy your day. ”

As abruptly as she appears, she whirls around and darts back inside, her long, wavy hair flying behind her.

The door closes behind her with a resounding bang.

My heart threatens to escape from my chest to chase after the one person who resurrected it, and I fight the urge to rub the soreness that’s spreading like wildfire.

It can’t be. It has to be her.

My breathing comes out in erratic bursts, my mind a series of still framed images of the vixen from a moment ago as the hint of jasmine finally travels to my nose.

“Do you know her, Steven? From her outfit, I think she’s one of the girls working on the Rose floors.”

Jack’s question is muffled, like I’m underwater, seconds away from reaching the surface, from relieving the burning in my lungs when I take my first breath of much needed oxygen.

The Rose floors? What?

I shake my head, not understanding anything that just transpired in the last few minutes, which could very well be a few hours for all I care, as the concept of time no longer registers, the reality of my world somehow shifted without me having a hand in it.

It can’t be. It has to be her. I saw the brief flash of recognition in her eyes. Those violet eyes. Those beautiful, mesmerizing, penetrating eyes.

My hands feel around the air, latching onto the cool metal of my chair before I sit down. My mind finally notices the stilted silence, and I look up, finding Jack staring at me, his brows furrowed in concern. He just asked me a question.

“I must be mistaken. Sorry about that.” I twist my lips into a smile and force out a few chuckles, which don’t even sound convincing to my ears. “Yes, I must be wrong.”

Clutching my chair in a death grip, I compel my muscles to relax and my lungs to expel the air I can’t seem to empty as my body isn’t functioning properly, the electrical wiring short-circuited from the cyclone that appeared out of nowhere .

Letting go of the chair, my hand grasps the cup on the table and raises it in a toast. I can feel the blood slowly returning to my face and I smirk, hoping it will put the others at ease.

“Cheers to you, Jack, for your well-deserved promotion. I can’t wait to see what’s next in store for you and to have you be at my beck and call when I visit. ”

It seems to have worked, as everyone laughs, and Jack says something in return.

But my mind has already drifted back to the goddess with violet eyes, my missing flame on a moonless night.

As abruptly as she vanished nine months ago, she has reappeared in my life, as if a higher power has finally granted me another chance, another wish upon a shining star.

And this time, I’m not letting go.