HE'S NOT MINE.

ORION.

Harro's grandmother's 60th birthday celebration was in full swing, having officially commenced two hours prior. The evening had begun with a flurry of photo opportunities, introductions to esteemed relatives and acquaintances, and warm greetings. As the night wore on, we found ourselves swept up in the joyous festivities.

The party arrangements were truly fit for royalty – which, given Harro's grandmother's noble lineage, was hardly surprising. The grand ballroom, hidden away within the estate, was a marvel, effortlessly accommodating the five hundred distinguished guests in attendance. Every aspect of the celebration had been meticulously curated to perfection: the exquisite cuisine, the fine wines, the decadent desserts, and the opulent decorations all testified to the impeccable taste of the hosts.

As I glanced around the ballroom, I noticed a veritable who's who of international dignitaries, aristocrats, and influential figures, all gathered to pay tribute to Harro's grandmother. The rarefied atmosphere was palpable, yet the warmth and joy that permeated the occasion rendered it feel surprisingly intimate and celebratory.

As the evening commenced, Harro remained by my side, and everything felt perfect. However, as the night wore on, he began to mingle, exchanging warm greetings with childhood friends, business associates, and erstwhile lovers. I watched with growing unease as a parade of ex-partners and casual conquests fawned over him, their eyes still burning with desire. The mere thought of him being intimate with them made my skin crawl.

Despite my discomfort, Harro seemed to be reveling in the attention. His chiseled features and piercing eyes sparkled under the crystal lights of the ballroom as he laughed and chatted with the assembled crowd. His white hair, perfectly styled, added an extra layer of sophistication to his already-impeccable appearance. The black suit he wore, identical to mine, accentuated his lean physique, making him look absolutely stunning.

I found myself helplessly drawn to him, my eyes following his every move as he navigated the room with ease. His charisma was undeniable, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of possessiveness. The ache in my chest grew more pronounced with each smile he bestowed upon his admirers, knowing that he had shared intimate moments with most of them.

I attempted to rationalize my emotions, reminding myself that Harro and I were merely engaged in a casual, physical arrangement. We hadn't made any commitments or declarations. Yet, the pain in my heart persisted, refusing to be silenced. I had no claim on him, and the realization was a bitter pill to swallow.

Azalea's voice whispered in my ear, her words sending a shiver down my spine. "You're in love with him, aren't you?" I turned, my eyes wide with a mix of shock and vulnerability, as Azalea's knowing gaze met mine. Her expression seemed to say she had witnessed this phenomenon many times already.

"Don't bother denying it," she continued, her tone gentle but firm. "It's painfully obvious from the way you look at him." My throat constricted, and I swallowed hard, wondering if my feelings had been on display for everyone to see.

"I...I need time to figure things out," I stammered, my eyes darting toward Harro, who was still laughing and chatting with the other guests. Azalea nodded sympathetically.

"For what it's worth, I think you're a good person who deserves someone who'll love you back," she said, her voice sincere. "It's a shame you had to fall for him. He doesn't do love." Azalea's gaze drifted toward Harro, her expression tinged with a hint of sympathy.

I turned back to her, a jumble of emotions swirling inside me. Her words struck a chord, but I already knew the truth. Harro's reputation preceded him, and I had entered this arrangement with my eyes open. Still, hearing Azalea's words was a harsh reminder of the reality I faced.

I'd seen the tabloid headlines and glossy photographs of Harro with a parade of beautiful men and women. The rumors of his exploits, including the salacious whispers about his sharing arrangement with his cousin, had also reached my ears. Despite his assurances that he wanted me, I couldn't shake the nagging fear that my time with him was limited. How long before he grew tired of me and moved on to his next conquest?

As these thoughts swirled in my mind, I felt a growing sense of unease. I knew I had to confront him, to end this affair before it was too late. If I didn't, I risked being hurt even more deeply later on. The ballroom, once a dazzling spectacle, now felt suffocating.

Without a word, I made my way out of the ballroom, casting a fleeting glance at Harro. He was too engrossed in his conversation to notice my departure. I didn't linger, instead making a swift exit.

As I strode through the corridors, my footsteps echoed off the walls. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy, knowing that Harro had been with so many others. I'd been aware of his reputation, yet I'd still allowed myself to fall deeply in love with him.

Now, as I approached the guest quarters, I quickened my pace. I longed to shed the confines of my suit, to strip away the illusion that I was somehow different from the countless others he'd bedded. The bitter truth was that I'd let my guard down, and now I was paying the price.

As I stepped into the room, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and couldn't help but scoff at the absurdity of it all. The evening's events had left me feeling bewildered and frustrated. I shed my formal attire, the weight of the suit and tie lifting off my shoulders as I made my way to the shower.

Under the warm cascade of water, I washed away my frustration, letting the tension seep out of my muscles. But as I stood there, I couldn't shake off the nagging thoughts that had been plaguing me. I'd been so caught up in the intoxicating passion and thrill of being with Harro that I'd neglected to consider the reality of our situation. Tomorrow, we'd return to Alderan, and I'd be thrust back into the chaos of my life – the demands of my company, the pressure of dealing with my difficult father.

The thought of it all was daunting, and I realized that I'd been using Harro as a distraction, a temporary escape from my troubles. But the truth was, our tryst had been just that – a fleeting indulgence. For him, it was likely just sex, a physical release without emotional attachment. The sooner I accepted that and moved on, the better.

I emerged from the shower, dried myself off, and began to pack my bag for the next day's departure. Our flight back to Alderan was scheduled for the afternoon, but I had nothing better to do at the moment, so I figured I might as well get a head start. Just as I was about to start packing, my phone rang, shrill in the silence. I glanced at the screen to see Athena's name flashing, and my heart skipped a beat, I was not expecting her to call me tonight.

I answered the phone, putting it on speaker, and Athena's warm, cheerful voice enveloped me like a soothing balm. "Hi Riri, I thought I should check in on you. How's the party going?" she asked, her tone bright and inquiring.

I winced inwardly at the mention of the party, the memory of Harro's flirtations and my own conflicted emotions still fresh and raw. Athena's perceptiveness kicked in immediately, her voice sharpening with concern. "What's wrong? Are you not at the party?" she pressed, her tone gentle but insistent.

I attempted to reassure her, downplaying my true feelings. "Nothing's wrong, Tina. I just wasn't feeling the crowd, so I came back to the room to relax a bit," I said, trying to sound nonchalant despite the turmoil brewing inside me.

Athena's questions came rapid-fire, her concern for me palpable. "Where is he? Did he do something to you?" I didn't need to ask who she was referring to – Harro's name hung unspoken in the air.

I hastened to reassure her, choosing my words carefully. "What, no! Tina, listen to me, okay? Nothing happened to me or us. I just needed a minute from it all." Technically, I wasn't lying. Nothing had transpired between Harro and me – at least, not in the way Athena was implying. The truth was, I'd been the one to succumb to my emotions, falling deeply in love with him despite the risks.

Athena's skepticism was evident in her tone. "Are you telling the truth? Nothing is really wrong?" I chuckled softly, the sound feeling foreign on my lips – it was the first time I'd laughed since our conversation began. Athena's sigh was audible, a mixture of relief and residual concern.

Just then, a knock at the door interrupted our conversation. Athena's voice was instantaneously alert. "Is that him?" she asked, her question hanging in the air as I made my way to the door, my heart sinking with a sense of trepidation.

"I don't know," I replied, and Athena's urging tone prompted me to quicken my pace. I reached the door and turned the handle, pulling it open to reveal Harro standing in the corridor. But he didn't look like the composed, charismatic individual I'd seen earlier. His breathing was rapid, his tie undone, and a subtle sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead, dampening his white hair. My heart constricted at the sight of him, and I felt a pang of concern. Had he ran all the way here?

Athena's voice cut through the silence, breaking our staring contest. "Well, is it him?" she asked, her tone insistent. I tore my gaze away from Harro, focusing on the phone. "Yes, it's him. I, um... lemme call you back, Tina." I didn't wait for her response, ending the call and returning my attention to Harro as we continued staring at each other.