Aww Seven Exes Begged Cute Blocked novel Chapter 96

96 /107

**A Promise Written on the Rusted Edge of Time by Dael Rowan Sire**

**Chapter 96 – Five Years Later: I’m on Stage, You’re Watching.**

The clock strikes 3 a.m., and the world outside is cloaked in a heavy silence, punctuated only by the rhythmic patter of rain against the window. My phone buzzes insistently, pulling me from the depths of my thoughts. It’s Jaxson Cole—my boss, my confidant, and, if we’re being honest, my fuck buddy. The combination is as complicated as it is thrilling.

“Hey, can you drop off those condoms?” His voice, rough and gravelly, cuts through the quiet of my apartment like a knife.

I glance down at my drenched clothes, the fabric clinging uncomfortably to my skin. “Yeah, sure,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

As I hand him the small bag, I can feel his gaze linger on me, a mischievous glint dancing in his deep-set eyes. “The 0.01 ultra-thin ones you asked for,” I say, trying to keep my tone light despite the tension crackling in the air.

He takes the bag from me, his thumb deliberately brushing against my knuckles, sending an unexpected thrill coursing through my veins. “You know,” he begins, a teasing lilt to his voice, “she’s not here yet. How about we use them first?”

I blink, momentarily taken aback by his suggestion. But before I can fully process what he just said, he bursts into a mocking laugh. “Kidding. Relax.”

My heart sinks a little. “I set you up on a blind date for next Wednesday,” he continues, his tone shifting slightly, becoming more serious. “You’ve been sleeping with me for three years—I don’t want to shortchange you.”

The weight of his words hangs in the air. “You’ll go, right?” His question seems casual, but the intensity in his eyes suggests otherwise.

I know I have no choice.

Since when did my casual fling morph into some kind of matchmaking endeavor? Oh, right—his precious first love is about to return to New York, and he’s desperate to erase any trace of me before she arrives.

My fingers curl into fists, a mix of frustration and confusion swirling within me. I force myself to meet his gaze, my voice steady despite the turmoil in my heart. “Just send me the address, sir.”

I notice the change in his demeanor immediately; his brow furrows, a flicker of concern crossing his features. I rarely address him with such formality.

Cold droplets of rain continue to trickle down my hair, pooling at my collarbone, sending shivers through my body. “It’s late. I should go,” I stammer, desperate to escape the intensity of this moment.