Vows of Glass
Chapter One: The One Who Walked Away
By Adele G. Orenzo
The rain wasn't supposed to fall in June, but neither was Dimitri Valeris supposed to be standing at Arabella Monroe's fashion launch. The man who shattered her heart three years ago now stood before her, dripping with audacity and designer cologne.
She saw him before he saw her, his tall, tailored frame drawing attention that made the room hold its breath. The navy blue suit hugged his body like it belonged there. The way he adjusted his cufflinks, like the world waited on his wrist, was annoyingly hot.
Arabella's spine stiffened beneath her crimson gown. "What the hell is he doing here?" she whispered to Sophie, her best friend and PR handler.
Sophie's brows shot up. "Who?"
She didn't need to answer. The moment Sophie turned, she inhaled sharply. "Sweet hell. That's him, isn't it? The Greek god with the devil's record?"
"Unfortunately," Arabella muttered, eyes narrowing. Dimitri's presence wasn't an accident. He calculated every move, and if he was here tonight, he wanted something.
As if on cue, he spotted her. And smiled. God, that smile. Her stomach flipped, not from butterflies but from the sick reminder of betrayal.
Three years ago, he'd left her with nothing but a cold voicemail and a promise never to come back. She should've deleted his number and burned the memories. But no, she wrote a whole damn fashion collection instead — Shattered Silk. Inspired by the pain he left behind.
"Arabella." His voice cut through the chatter and music, smooth as a whip crack in the air.
She didn't move. Didn't blink. He walked toward her like he owned the floor. The crowd parted for him. Like always.
When he finally stood before her, she tilted her chin and met his stormy eyes. "You weren't invited," she said flatly.
He looked amused. "You look beautiful."
She arched a brow. "You look like a mistake I made in my twenties."
The corner of his mouth twitched. "Still sharp."
"Still bold enough to show up uninvited?" She folded her arms, the slit in her dress swaying as she shifted her weight. "What do you want, Dimitri?"
He didn't answer right away. His gaze lingered — too long, too intense. "I came to say congratulations," he said finally. "Your work is... breathtaking."
She laughed, low and bitter. "You don't get to flatter me. Not anymore."
"Arabella—"
"No. Don't 'Arabella' me like you didn't disappear without warning. Like you didn't vanish from my life like I meant nothing."
His jaw flexed. "I never said you meant nothing."
"You didn't have to. Silence says it loud enough."
For a second, silence returned between them. Heavy. Familiar. Sophie slipped away politely, sensing the storm.
Dimitri ran a hand through his hair — shorter now, still sexy, dammit. "I left because I thought it would protect you."
Arabella scoffed. "That's rich. A billionaire trying to protect the poor little designer? Please. You left because it was easier to run than stay."
"You don't know what I was dealing with."
"You didn't let me."
The music swelled behind them, applause erupting as the final model hit the runway. But neither of them looked away from each other.
"I'm not here to reopen old wounds," he said quietly. "You already did."
His voice dipped lower. "I'm here because I never stopped thinking about you."
Her eyes burned — not from longing, but fury. And somewhere buried underneath... heartbreak.
"You don't get to walk back into my life like nothing happened, Dimitri."
"I'm not asking for a reset," he said. "I'm asking for a chance."
"To do what? Break me again?"
"No," he said. "To show you that I've changed. That I never should've left."
Arabella's heart pounded. This was the man who taught her what it meant to love... and what it meant to be left behind. And now, he was back — in the spotlight, in her space, in her blood again.
But this time? She wasn't the girl who waited for him to call. She was the woman who built a fashion empire from the pieces he left her in.
Arabella stepped closer, her lips inches from his ear. "You had your chance, Dimitri. You broke me once."
Then she pulled away, smiled sweetly, and whispered — "Let's see if you can handle me now
He didn't flinch, but his jaw clenched. Hard. That old, cocky glint in his eyes dimmed—replaced by something deeper. Raw. Dangerous.
"I'm not here to play games, Arabella."
She laughed, stepping around him like he was just another guest. "Too late. You walked into the middle of my show. That's already round one."
Dimitri turned, following her as she moved toward the back of the room. The crowd applauded as the models came out for the final bow, but all Arabella could feel was the heat of him behind her.
"Dinner," he said suddenly.
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Have dinner with me. Tomorrow night."
She spun on her heels. "Is that your grand comeback plan? A fancy meal and a smile?"
"No," he said quietly, "It's a start."
Arabella opened her mouth to fire back, but her assistant appeared at her elbow. "You're wanted for photos, Ms. Monroe."
Perfect timing.
She gave Dimitri one last look, her expression unreadable. "Tomorrow night," she said, her tone dry. "If I show up, don't mistake it for forgiveness."
"I won't," he replied. "But I'll take hope."
She walked away before he could say more, her heels clicking like a countdown behind her. If Dimitri thought winning her back would be simple, he clearly forgot who he left behind.
This time, the glass wasn't just shattered.
It was sharpened.