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Love Me Like Before Novel Cover

Love Me Like Before

Seraphina’s three-year marriage to billionaire Elias ends in heartbreak when he chooses his first love over her. She grants the divorce but vanishes while secretly carrying his child. Five years later, she resurfaces as a powerful, successful woman. When their paths cross again, a remorseful Elias is desperate to atone for his betrayal and reclaim her heart. Now, he must face the consequences of his past choices to win back the family he lost.
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Chapter 1

The flashing lights of Club Velvet made red shadows on Selina's face as she walked through the crowded dance floor. Her head was spinning. The sweet drink she took from James Harrison, the man she was supposed to go out with tonight, tasted weird from the first sip. Now, thirty minutes later, her skin felt like it was on fire.

"Excuse me," she said quietly, pushing past dancing people who gave her dirty looks. Her vision got blurry at the edges, with dark spots in front of her eyes. This wasn't just being drunk. Something was wrong.

Selina held her purse tighter, her shaking hands looking for her phone. The screen was too bright, making her close her eyes as she tried to call Michelle.

The music got quieter as she walked to the hotel hallway. Her heart was beating so loud in her ears, she couldn't even hear the music from the club below. The hallway looked like it was moving and changing before her eyes.

Three rings, then Michelle's voice, sharp and cold.

"What the hell have you done?"

Selina leaned against the wall, her free hand pressed against her burning head. The expensive wallpaper felt cool against her hand.

"Michelle," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Something's wrong with me. I think James put something in my drink."

A mean laugh came from the other end. "Are you seriously playing victim right now? James Harrison just called me. You slapped him? In front of everyone?"

The memory came back to Selina's mind - his hand moving up her leg, his dirty words getting worse and worse, his fingers grabbing her wrist when she tried to move away.

"He wouldn't stop touching me," Selina said, each word hard to say as the hallway started to tilt. "Please, Michelle, I need help. I can't see straight. Everything's burning."

"Do you know what you've done?" Michelle's voice got louder, full of anger. "That connection took me months to make! Do you know how many girls would kill for that chance? And you throw it away because he touched your leg?"

Selina's knees got weak. She slid down the wall, her silk dress bunching up around her legs. "Please," she begged, her throat feeling like sandpaper. "I don't know what he gave me. I feel like I'm dying. Can you come get me?"

"You can't even handle one simple job," Michelle said angrily. "One night playing escort to help your so-called 'best friend' when I needed you most. Now my reputation in Manhattan is ruined because of your small-town morals."

Tears hurt Selina's eyes, making her vision even worse. "Michelle, please, I think I need a hospital."

The call ended with a click.

Selina stared at the screen, watching it swim in front of her eyes. Michelle's betrayal hurt more than the physical pain in her body. Michelle had promised it was just dinner with a business friend, not whatever this was supposed to be.

Using the wall for support, Selina pushed herself up. The hallway seemed to go on forever in both directions, with identical doors that looked like a nightmare. She needed to find her room before she fell down completely.

Room 1504. Or was it 1405?

The numbers were blurry as she walked forward, one hand on the wall for balance. Her skin felt too tight, her dress like a second skin that was choking her. Sweat formed on her forehead, running down her neck.

Selina tried a door handle that looked familiar. To her surprise, it opened. Relief washed over her as she stumbled inside, her strength finally giving out.

She fell forward onto what she thought was her bed, but hit something solid and warm instead. Strong arms caught her before she could fall to the floor, holding her against a broad chest that smelled of expensive whiskey and something darker.

"Who the hell are you?" a deep voice asked, the words a little slurred.

Selina tried to focus, but could only see the outline of broad shoulders and a sharp jaw in the dim light from the curtains. The room was spinning, her lungs burning with each breath.

"Hot," she gasped, pulling at the high neck of her dress. "So hot... I'm burning up. Help me. Please."

The man moved under her, his breathing changing. She felt his muscles get tense as he breathed in deeply, smelling her perfume - jasmine and vanilla, a birthday gift from her adoptive mother that came with the usual mean comment: "Maybe if you smelled like a woman instead of a library, you'd bring home something other than perfect grades."

"Aren't you playing with fire, woman?" he whispered, his voice rough with alcohol and something else that sent a different kind of heat through Selina despite her foggy state.

Her head fell back, showing the delicate line of her throat. Even in her confusion, she could tell he was as drunk as she was, but in a different way. The room smelled of expensive liquor and quiet desperation.

"I know you want to earn money, Michelle, you shouldn't have done this," Selina mumbled, her thoughts scattered like broken glass in her mind. "Don't you think this is harsh? Using me like this?"

The man went stiff for a moment before a low, humorless laugh came from his chest after hearing her mention money. His hands, which had been holding her shoulders, moved down to her waist.

"Ladies these days will do anything for extra cash," he said quietly, his breath hot against her ear. "Even come to a man in his own hotel room. Tell me, do you even know who I am?"

Selina didn't understand his words, couldn't understand why he was talking about money. All she knew was that his touch brought relief to the fire burning inside her. She leaned into him, her hands grabbing at his shirt.

"Help me," she begged, her words slurring together. "I can't. I feel like I'm dying." She pressed against his neck.

Something in him changed. His grip on her waist got tighter, pulling her closer to him.

"I can help you," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. One hand moved to tangle in her hair, tilting her face up toward his. "I can make the fire stop," he said in a drunk voice.

Her last clear thought was that she should be afraid of this stranger, of being helpless, of the heat building between them that had nothing to do with whatever drug was in her system.

But fear needed a clear mind, and that had left her hours ago.

His lips found hers in the darkness, tasting of whiskey and reckless abandon. Her body responded to his touch even as her mind screamed warnings she could no longer hear.

The fever had taken her completely.

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