Innocent cravings

Chapter 19 – The Claim

Alice's POV

By the time I dragged myself out of the diner that night, my legs felt like lead. My apron still smelled of coffee and fried eggs, and my hair was sticking to my forehead with a thin sheen of sweat. Sophie had already gone home after helping me through the madness of the day, and for a second I regretted insisting I could close up alone.

The streets were quiet, save for the low hum of a few cars passing in the distance. I hugged my bag closer, telling myself I could make it home just fine.

Then, of course, headlights cut across the sidewalk, slowing down until a sleek black car rolled up beside me.

I didn't have to look twice.

Brian.

Of course.

The window slid down, and his deep voice poured into the night like warm velvet.

"Get in. I'll take you home."

I stopped walking and folded my arms. "I can walk."

His eyes caught mine, dark and sharp, even under the glow of the streetlamp. "Alice. You've worked all day. You're exhausted. Get in the car."

I hated that part of me thrilled at the sound of him saying my name. I hated even more how safe I felt when his gaze pinned me like that.

So naturally, I straightened my spine and shot back, "You don't get to boss me around."

His mouth curved, not quite a smile, more of a dare. "Maybe not. But I'm not letting you walk home at this hour."

Something in his tone left no room for argument, and before I knew it, I was sliding into the passenger seat, muttering under my breath about stubborn men and their control issues.

The car smelled faintly of leather and something distinctly him, clean, warm, intoxicating. The ride was quiet at first, but I could feel his gaze flick toward me every so often, like he was checking to make sure I didn't vanish.

Finally, I broke the silence. "You don't have to keep showing up like this.

"Yes, I do." His response was immediate, firm.

I turned to him, bristling. "Why?"

His jaw tightened. "Because you won't take care of yourself unless someone makes you."

The nerve. The audacity. And yet... the truth of it stung more than his tone.

We pulled up in front of my place, and I reached for the handle before the car even fully stopped. But of course, Brian was out first, circling around to my side.

"I can walk myself to the door," I said flatly as I stepped out.

"I know," he replied, following anyway.

I fumbled for my keys, desperate to end the moment, to put a wall back up between us. But just as I turned the lock, a hand closed gently but firmly around my wrist.

"Brian"

"Enough." His voice was low, controlled, but there was something raw simmering underneath. His eyes burned into mine, and I suddenly couldn't breathe.

"I'm done watching you push me away," he said, stepping closer, his presence swallowing the space between us. "You're mine, Alice. Whether you admit it tonight or tomorrow, I'm not letting you go."

My heart skittered wildly, my body torn between running and leaning in. "You can't just..."

But then his mouth was on mine.

It wasn't gentle. Not really. It was claiming. Demanding. A kiss that stole the air from my lungs and replaced it with fire. His hands cradled my face, tilting me exactly where he wanted, and though I pushed against his chest, my body betrayed me. My lips parted, answering him, hungry and desperate, until the world fell away and it was only him.

When I finally broke free, I was gasping, dizzy, furious at myself and at him. "This-this can't happen," I whispered.

Brian's gaze never wavered, his breathing heavy but controlled. "It already did."

And with that, he stepped back, leaving me pressed against my door, shaken and burning. He walked away without waiting for me to argue again, sliding back into his car with an infuriating calmness.

The engine roared to life, and before I could gather my thoughts, he was gone, taillights vanishing into the night.

I pressed my trembling fingers to my lips, hating the way they still tingled.

God help me, I wanted more.

Brian's POV

Her taste still lingered on my lips as I drove away, a storm coiled tight in my chest. I'd waited long enough, let her hide behind excuses and stubbornness long enough. Tonight had changed everything.

Alice belonged to me.

I'd known it from the first time I saw her, but the kiss? That was confirmation. The spark, the fire, the way her body gave in even as her words resisted, it was all I needed.

Clarissa? A distraction. Convenient, loud, and temporary. I'd let her play her games because it was easy. But Alice... Alice was the real thing. And I wasn't about to let some clingy habit keep me from what I wanted.

She thought she could fight me. She thought pushing me away would work. She didn't know me at all.

Already, plans were forming. I'd end things with Clarissa cleanly, cold, final, no room for misunderstanding. Then I'd focus every ounce of myself on Alice. Breaking down her walls, forcing her to see the truth between us.

She could hate me for it now. She could slam her door, pretend I didn't shake her to her core. None of it mattered.

Because the moment my lips touched hers, she became mine.

And I wasn't the kind of man who ever let go of what was his.

I pressed harder on the accelerator, a smirk tugging at my mouth.

Alice thought she could fight me. But she was already mine. She just didn't know it yet.

Chapter 20 – Beginning of trouble

Alice's POV

The night air outside my window was unusually still. The diner had closed late, my body ached from running plates and refilling coffee cups, but there was no way I could fall asleep. Every time I shut my eyes, I saw Brian. His hand brushing my cheek. The weight of his lips against mine. The way the world seemed to stop for those few moments.

I grabbed my phone before I could talk myself out of it and dialed Sophie. She picked up on the third ring.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" she yawned, her voice muffled by what sounded like a pillow.

"Yes," I whispered, biting my lip. "But I need to tell you something."

"Spill. What happened? Did someone die? Did you kill someone? Did the coffee machine finally explode?"

I closed my eyes, pressing a hand over my face. "None of the above."

Silence. Then a suspicious narrowing of her tone: "Wait. Is this a boy thing?"

I swallowed. "Yes."

That was all it took. Sophie shot upright, at least, that's how it sounded over the phone. "ALICE Monroe" don't you dare pause on me! Tell me everything right now. Is it Brian? Please tell me it's Brian. Did he finally"

"We kissed," I blurted before she could explode further.

There was a beat of silence. Then:

"OH. MY. GOD." She shrieked so loudly I pulled the phone away from my ear. "You-you-okay, breathe, Sophie, breathe. Alice. Alice! You kissed him? Like kiss-kissed him? Not a cheek thing? Not a by-accident brush? A full-on, lip-to-lip, movie-scene, swoon-worthy..."

"Yes!" I whispered harshly, covering my face with my free hand. "It just... happened."

"'Just happened'?" Sophie repeated, scandalized. "Girl, kisses don't 'just happen.' Tripping over a shoelace just happens. Forgetting your homework just happens. Kissing Brian Montgomery, rich, hot, broody Brian who makes you melt every time he looks at you, that's fate. That's fireworks. That's-ugh!"

I groaned. "You're not helping."

"Oh, I'm helping," she said gleefully. "I'm helping by making sure you understand the gravity of this situation. Now tell me every detail. Where? How? Who leaned in first?"

I hesitated, cheeks burning as though she were in the room. "Outside the diner. After work. He walked me out, and then... we just looked at each other. And he kissed me first."

Sophie gasped. "The man finally grew a spine. Hallelujah."

"It's not that simple," I murmured, my voice small. "Clarissa is still in the picture. I don't know what he's thinking, Sophie. I don't know if I'm just-"

"Stop." Sophie's tone shifted, firm but kind. "Did it feel real?"

I shut my eyes, remembering the warmth of his hand against the small of my back, the way his lips lingered like he didn't want to let go. "Yes."

"Then it was real," Sophie said softly. "Don't let Clarissa's claws convince you otherwise. Brian has a choice to make, and honestly, I think he already made it."

A lump formed in my throat. "You think so?"

"I know so," Sophie said. "And if he doesn't, well... I've got pepper spray and a sharp tongue. He won't stand a chance."

I laughed in spite of myself. "You're ridiculous."

"Ridiculously loyal," she corrected. "Now, go to bed before I break into your apartment and force-feed you hot cocoa. We'll figure this out together, okay?"

"Okay," I whispered, feeling lighter already.

But when I finally hung up, sleep still refused to come. Because Sophie might believe it, but I wasn't sure if I did.

The campus courtyard was buzzing the next morning, sunlight spilling across the benches and chatter echoing through the crisp air. I tried to act normal, but my stomach was a tight knot.

That's when I saw her. Clarissa.

Her heels clicked against the pavement like she owned it, her sleek ponytail swaying with every confident step. And as if the universe were cruel, her eyes locked on mine.

"Well, if it isn't the little waitress," she said, lips curling in a smile that wasn't a smile.

I stiffened. "Clarissa."

"You must be confused," she said lightly, though the venom was sharp beneath her words. "See, you might think you've got something going on with Brian, but let me set the record straight."

My heart thudded painfully. "What are you talking about?"

She leaned in slightly, her perfume overwhelming, her voice dropping low enough that only I could hear. "He invited me to dinner tonight. My fiancé. We're celebrating, actually. You see, whatever game you thought you were playing? It's over. He came back to his senses. You were just... a distraction."

My breath caught. Her voice carried just enough to let others overhear, and I could already feel eyes on me.

"You see," she continued, leaning closer as if confiding a secret, "whatever silly fantasy you thought you had going with him? It's over. He came to his senses. Men like Brian don't fall for girls like you. You were just... entertainment."

Her words sliced deeper than I wanted to admit. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

She straightened, smugness dripping from every gesture. "Don't look so shocked. Did you really think you could compete with me? Tonight, when he looks across the table, it won't be you he sees, it'll be me. The woman he's supposed to marry."

The words stung like acid. My fists clenched at my sides, but I forced myself to stay calm. "Clarissa, you don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I know," she purred, tilting her chin. "And soon everyone will. You're not in his league, Alice. You never were."

With that, she walked off, her laughter ringing like glass shards in my ears.

I stood frozen, my chest aching, replaying every syllable until it carved into me like a blade. Sophie's words from last night"don't let Clarissa's claws convince you otherwise", suddenly felt impossible to hold onto.

Brian's POV – Dinner

The restaurant glowed with warm lights, every table dressed in crisp linen and crystal glasses. I'd chosen it deliberately: upscale, neutral, impossible for Clarissa to cause a scene without drawing stares.

She arrived fashionably late, of course. Her dress shimmered with sequins, her hair falling in glossy waves, her smile calculated.

"Brian," she said sweetly, brushing a kiss against my cheek as if we hadn't been drifting for months. "You look wonderful."

I stood, polite, offering her a seat. "Clarissa."

We ordered. She chatted endlessly about her week-shopping trips, her parents' charity gala, the 'stress' of planning for our supposed engagement party. I listened, nodding, but my mind was elsewhere. Alice's laugh. Alice's eyes. The taste of her lips.

"...and I think we should have the floral arrangements flown in from Italy," Clarissa was saying. "Nothing less will do. Don't you agree?"

I set my wine glass down slowly. "Clarissa, we need to talk."

Her smile faltered. "About what?"

"About us."

For the first time that evening, silence stretched across the table. Her fingers tightened around her fork. "What about us?"

I took a breath, steady, certain. "This isn't working. It hasn't been working for a long time. I can't keep pretending."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're breaking up with me. Here? Over dinner?"

"Yes," I said firmly. "Because it's the truth."

She let out a sharp laugh, the sound brittle. "You think you can just throw me away? After everything? After our families...

"I don't care about our families' plans," I cut in, my voice low but strong. "I'm done living someone else's life. I want something real, Clarissa. And this... this isn't it."

Her face crumbled, rage and desperation flashing in equal measure. "You'll regret this. I'll tell my parents. The cooperation will end. Everything we built together..."

"I don't care," I repeated, standing. As long as I'm concerned you only need me to build your social life. I'm done being used by you or anyone.

"Walk away with dignity, Clarissa. Or don't. But this is over."

I left her sitting there, her perfect nails digging into the tablecloth, her perfect smile shattered.

Clarissa's POV

The restaurant spun around me, blurred by fury and humiliation. My hands trembled as I lifted my glass, pretending to sip though my throat burned.

He couldn't mean it. He couldn't.

Brian was mine. He always had been. Our families, our names, our futures, they all aligned. I had planned it for years. I was his future. He couldn't leave me just like that.

And yet... he had walked out. For her.

Alice. The nobody waitress. The girl with tired eyes and a soft laugh.

I slammed my glass down, ignoring the startled looks from nearby diners. No. I would not let this happen.

If Brian thought he could leave me, if he thought he could replace me with someone like her, he was wrong.

I would never let him go.

Never.

Chapter 21 – Chains of Vengeance

Clarissa’s POV

I could still hear the sound of the wine glass breaking. The way it shattered on the marble floor of the dining room echoed in my mind like a cruel reminder of what had just happened.

Brian walked out on me.

Me.

Clarissa stone.

No one walks out on me.

I stood in front of the mirror in my room now, my evening dress still clinging to me, a perfect sapphire silk that shimmered under the lights, but all I could see was how pathetic it looked. I had chosen this dress with him in mind. I had styled my hair into loose waves because I knew he liked it that way. I smiled, laughed, touched his hand at the table, God, I had done everything right.

And yet, when the time came, he looked at me with those cold, unyielding eyes and ended it. Just like that.

My hands clenched into fists at my sides. The mirror reflected not the flawless woman I had been trained to be, but someone undone, someone vulnerable. And I hated it.

With a furious cry, I snatched the vase from my nightstand and hurled it across the room. The porcelain shattered against the wall, shards scattering across the floor. My chest rose and fell, my breath ragged, but the rage inside me didn’t ease. I wanted to scream until the walls themselves cracked.

How dare he.

How dare he throw me aside for… for what?

Her.

Alice.

The name slithered into my mind like poison, bitter and burning.

I remembered the way she looked at him, those quiet stares she thought no one noticed. I noticed. I noticed everything. She had always been there, lurking in the shadows, the poor little scholarship girl who thought she could breathe the same air as us. I should have crushed her the moment I saw the way Brian’s gaze lingered. I should have ended her chances before they even began.

Now it was too late for prevention. Now it was about war.

I paced across my room, heels clicking sharply against the polished wood. My hands shook, not from weakness but from the fury clawing at me. Alice thought she was clever. Sweet. Untouchable because she had Sophie by her side, with that sharp tongue and influential family. But Sophie’s jokes wouldn’t save Alice from me.

Not anymore.

Brian’s voice echoed again in my head, calm but firm as he pushed his chair back and rose from the dinner table. I can’t do this anymore, Clarissa. This arrangement, this facade, it’s over.

Over.

The word cut deeper than a blade.

I had given him everything. My loyalty, my time, my love. Love that had stretched since we were teenagers, since the first time I realized he wasn’t just another boy but someone worth chasing. I had fought for his attention, molded myself into the perfect daughter, the perfect fiancée, the perfect woman.

And he threw me away for her.

I stopped pacing and gripped the edge of my vanity until my knuckles whitened. The face in the mirror was streaked now, makeup smudged from angry tears I hadn’t realized had fallen. I swore under my breath and reached for a tissue, scrubbing at my cheeks. I would not let him reduce me to this.

He could choose her. He could humiliate me. But he would regret it.

I moved to my wardrobe, flinging the doors open, the soft scent of expensive perfumes and fabrics wafting out. My fingers trailed over dresses, silk, satin, lace—all weapons in their own way. My mother always told me appearance was half the battle. “Power,” she said, “is as much about perception as it is about reality.”

And I knew exactly what reality I wanted Alice to face.

She thought she could walk around school with that innocence, pretending she wasn’t involved, pretending she wasn’t seducing him with her doe-eyed stares. Well, innocence only works if no one is looking for the dirt beneath it. And I would make sure the entire campus saw her for what she was.

A homewrecker.

A nobody who thought she could play in our world.

I reached for a fresh dress, slipping into something more comfortable, something that let me move freely. Then I tore the sapphire silk from my body and threw it to the floor, grinding the heel of my shoe against the fabric. “You were supposed to be my victory,” I hissed at it, like the dress could answer for my pain.

For a moment I just stood there, staring at the mess I had made. Shards of porcelain on the floor, the ruined gown, my reflection still trembling with fury. And yet beneath it all, there was something else. Something sharper than rage.

Resolve.

Brian could think he was done with me. He could tell himself he didn’t care about the partnership between our families, about the decades of power and influence that bound us. But he was lying to himself. He would care when everything he worked for crumbled. He would care when Alice was dragged through the mud so deep she’d choke on it.

He’d come back.

They always came back.

And if he didn’t… then at least I would destroy the little distraction that had stolen him away from me.

I sank onto the edge of my bed, pulling my knees up for a moment. The tears came again, unwanted and hot, but I didn’t fight them this time. They weren’t weakness. They were fuel. Every tear was another promise, another vow carved into my bones.

Alice was going to regret the day she crossed me.

And Brian… 

he was going to regret underestimating me.

The knock at the door barely registered at first. My hands were still shaking from the fury that had consumed me, and the room was littered with the evidence of my chaos, the shards of the vase, the torn sapphire silk dress, the overturned chair. I didn’t want company. I wanted solitude. I wanted to scream until the walls themselves shivered in fear.

But the knock came again, firm and deliberate. A presence I could not ignore.

“Clarissa, are you in there?” My mother’s voice, calm but authoritative, filtered through the door. Vivienne. Always poised, always in control. The kind of woman who could enter a room and silence it with nothing more than a glance.

I wiped my face roughly, trying to erase the evidence of tears and rage, and called back, my voice tight. “Yes, come in.”

She opened the door gracefully, her silk scarf trailing behind her. Even in her casual evening attire, she radiated authority, an aura I had inherited but never perfected. Vivienne’s eyes swept the room, taking in the destruction with a sharp, assessing glance.

“Hmm,” she said softly, tilting her head. “Looks like someone has had a rough evening.”

“Rough?” I scoffed. “Rough doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Her lips curved slightly, not in amusement but in understanding. She had a way of listening without judgment, yet reading every line of a person’s pain as if it were a book she had memorized. “Tell me,” she prompted, her tone gentle but commanding.

I fell onto the armchair, exhausted from my outburst, and finally let the words tumble out. I told her everything, Brian walking out, the dinner, the humiliation, Alice’s interference, the way my control over the situation had collapsed. And through it all, mom’s eyes never wavered. No gasp. No flinch. Just that calm, penetrating gaze that made me feel seen in a way no one else ever could.

When I finished, she didn’t speak immediately. She paced slowly, a hand resting lightly on her chin. “I see,” she said at last, her voice even but edged with steel. “It seems you’ve underestimated the stakes.”

I looked up at her, defiance still raw in my chest. “Underestimated? I’ve handled everything before. I’ve always won. And now he throws it all away for that little nobody, Alice. He doesn’t even realize what he’s losing.”

Mom’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Sometimes, my dear, men are blind to the obvious. But a blind man can be made to see, and a fool can be taught his place. That is where strategy comes in.”

“Strategy?” I repeated, the word dripping with venom. “I’m beyond strategy. I want her gone. I want Brian back. I want everyone to understand that he is mine and mine alone.”

Her gaze softened slightly, but the edge remained. “Vengeance without plan is folly. Emotions are powerful, yes, but they are also dangerous if left unchecked. You have the fire; you need the direction. That is why I am here.”

I frowned, sensing the weight of her words. “You mean… you’ll help me?”

Mom smiled faintly, a slow, deliberate curve of lips that promised both comfort and calculated power. “Of course, my child. You have always had the skill, the intelligence, and the resolve. Now you need guidance. Let us turn your fury into precision. Alice may have interfered today, but she has no idea what is coming.”

I felt a surge of hope and excitement mingled with the lingering anger. “What do we do first?”

She walked closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, though the authority in it made my pulse quicken. “First, we observe. Learn her habits, her routines, her weaknesses. Then we manipulate perception. Make her feel exposed without her knowing why. Social ruin can be more devastating than confrontation. People like Alice rely on appearances. We will dismantle them piece by piece.”

Her eyes locked onto mine, and I felt a shiver of admiration and fear. Vivienne’s calm control was intoxicating. “And Brian?” I asked cautiously, aware that even discussing him with my mother carried risks.

“He will come to understand where his loyalties lie,” mom said with certainty. “He may resist, he may be tempted, but a man who has been shown consequences and clarity rarely strays long. Our goal is twofold: remove Alice and reclaim Brian. The latter will be simple once the former is set in motion.”

I nodded, feeling the fire rekindled within me. I could see it now, my plan, guided by mom’s wisdom, sharper than any I had ever conceived on my own. Every slight from Alice, every stolen glance, every step she took in our territory would be cataloged and used against her.

“And Sophie?” I asked, almost reluctantly. “She’s… influential too. Could complicate things.”

Mom’s eyes glimmered. “Complications are opportunities in disguise. She is clever, yes, but she lacks your ruthlessness. Remember, the stronger the opponent believes themselves, the more spectacular their fall will be.”

I smiled, the kind of smile that was dangerous, predatory even. The rage and pain from earlier had transformed into focus, into a plan. Alice would regret ever thinking she could interfere. Brian would be mine. And together with mom, I was unstoppable.

We spent hours plotting, outlining every detail, every potential encounter. Mom guided me through subtle manipulations, teaching me how to bend perception, how to strike without leaving evidence, how to ensure that when the time came, Alice would be isolated and vulnerable.

By the time the night deepened, I felt almost… calm. Not weak, not defeated, but potent, armed with purpose. The storm of my anger had been channeled, refined into a weapon more dangerous than any raw fury could ever be.

Mom rested a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Tomorrow, the plan begins. Patience is crucial. You will watch, learn, and strike only when the timing is flawless. This is not just about Brian. It is about establishing dominance. Do not let your emotions dictate your moves.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of her words settle over me like armor. Finally, I felt in control again. For the first time since that dinner, I felt capable of breathing without the suffocating fear of loss.

“Thank you,” I whispered, though my voice held steel as well as gratitude.

“You are welcome,” Vivienne replied softly. “And remember, Clarissa, power is not taken, it is claimed. And tomorrow, we claim everything.”

The night stretched long, and I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, visualizing Alice’s every move, predicting reactions, and imagining my victory. My mind raced with possibilities, every scenario ending with me victorious, with Brian back where he belonged, and Alice reduced to a cautionary tale of overreaching ambition.

Tomorrow, I thought, t

he game begins. And I will win.