Erasing the Scar She Left Chapter 1

Vivian Langford and I had been secretly together for five years. Everyone else thought we were bitter business rivals.

Then, at a mutual friend's pre-wedding party, the groom came up with a game. Every single woman was blindfolded while the single men walked past. Each woman had to pick the man whose scent she liked best and claim him as her date for the day.

I deliberately slowed down when I reached Vivian and paused in front of her for half a second.

But when the blindfold came off, the man in her arms was Julian Rourke—her childhood sweetheart, her first love.

"Damn, Vivian! Out of all those men, you grabbed Julian in one shot. Even fate thinks you two belong together!"

Julian's eyes reddened. Vivian looked up at him with an indulgent smile.

Neither of them let go.

I stood a few feet away and suddenly laughed.

Just last night, Vivian had been tracing the scar over my chest and telling me she was going to marry me.

How had she forgotten in the blink of an eye?

* * *

"Looks like fate is finally giving you two a chance to make up for lost time," someone called out. "Vivian and Julian, a couple for the day. Perfect."

"Seriously. Vivian has everything going for her and hasn't dated anyone publicly in years. Don't tell me she's been carrying a torch for somebody this whole time."

Eyes moved back and forth between Vivian and Julian Rourke, thick with implication.

Julian's ears turned red. He gave Vivian an embarrassed little nudge, but she only smiled.

She neither confirmed nor denied anything.

"Enough," she said lightly. "It was all in the past."

Then she added, "I couldn't really identify most of the scents. I picked Julian because he still uses the same clean soap he used in school. Otherwise I might have bumped into someone else here and offended them. I'd never live that down."

The room erupted in knowing laughter.

I laughed too.

It was a quiet laugh, but it burned behind my eyes.

I couldn't even name what I was feeling anymore. My chest felt swollen with something sour and heavy.

Before we came out tonight, Vivian and I had showered with the same body wash.

It was winter cedar, the scent she had used for five years.

Once, I told her it was too cold and sharp and suggested we switch brands. She had wrapped her arms around me from behind and refused.

"I like things that don't change," she'd murmured. "They make me feel safe."

Then she'd tightened her arms around me. "Like you."

I had been stupid enough to melt.

I bought two full cases on the spot. Enough to last eight years.

Now I was standing right in front of her wearing the exact same scent.

How could she not recognize me?

"Adrian," Tristan Bellamy said as he passed by, drink in hand. "Why do you and Vivian smell kind of similar?"

The room went quiet for a beat.

Everyone knew Vivian and I were supposed to hate each other.

For five years, we had fought over projects, clients, acquisitions—everything. In public, it looked like we would happily tear each other's throats out if it meant winning a deal.

But in those same five years, Vivian had pulled her family's company back from the edge of bankruptcy and risen until she could stand across a negotiating table from me as an equal.

Had the rivalry been an act?

All those probing looks landed on me.

Vivian gave a small cough and answered before anyone could press.

"It's one of the most common body washes on the market. Of course people end up smelling alike."

She hated complicated fragrances.

That was why she never bought me cologne. Our home smelled only of body wash and laundry detergent.

Too many mixed scents triggered her nightmares.

On bad nights, she'd wake from those dreams and wrap herself around me like she'd lost her mind.

She wanted me drenched in her scent, every inch of me.

She wanted me to belong to her and no one else for the rest of my life.

Her possessiveness was fierce. Every time, she bit down on my shoulder until I could barely breathe.

Last night had been one of those nights.

And now I was "common."

"You're right," I said. "I'll switch brands when I get home."

The scar over my chest gave a faint ache.

I pressed my fingers against it through my shirt and smiled.

"Wouldn't want to smell like someone that heartless. It's bad luck."

"Adrian, what did you just say?"

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Vivian frowned at me, her gaze hard.

She had always been strong-willed. She hated anything that sounded like I was drawing a line between us.

But tonight she had no right to be angry.

I hadn't put Julian in her arms.

I had just opened my mouth to answer when Tristan hurried over. It was his pre-wedding party, and he clearly had no intention of letting the two most competitive people he knew start a corporate war in the middle of it.

"Adrian, do me a favor. I'm getting married in two days. Don't start anything tonight."

Then he grinned and changed the subject.

"Actually, with standards as high as yours, have you finally found a suitable family match? If not, I know people."

"I have."

I let my eyes sweep around the room. For one second, they passed over the woman sitting quietly in the corner.

Then they landed on Vivian.

I smiled.

"I'm getting engaged this weekend."