Note:
Long chapter ahead.

My fingers stay on the piano after I finish playing Clair de Lune. The sound of raindrops against the window makes a soft smile form on my lips.

It's perfect -- playing this song while the rain is pouring outside tonight. I guess that I never quit being melancholic.

I get up from the bench, staring at this breathtaking white grand piano that Vaughn has bought for me after he purchased this new house. Our house.

I still can't believe that we're getting married next month. We just got back in Perth after staying in California for Jake's wedding, and now it feels surreal that the same day will happen to me.

But then, I don't have any doubt about whom I want to spend the rest of my life with.

Stepping back into the dim-lit living room, I notice that Vaughn is having a phone call, standing at the doorway leading to the back patio of our house.

Quietly, I approach him from behind, and that's when I hear his conversation with the person from the other side of the line.

"I want the birthday cake ready on the table when we arrive," he orders. "Yes, I told you about the flowers. She loves garden roses. And make sure that nobody else is going to be there. I didn't book the whole damn place just to have some clueless person barging in."

My heart flutters after hearing what he said. I think that it's something that I shouldn't have heard.

Tomorrow will be my birthday, and now I know that Vaughn is preparing something for me. A surprise.

But not anymore, because this stupid girl just had to eavesdrop on everything.

After ending the call, Vaughn turns around, and when he sees me, he's taken aback. "Shit."

Uh oh. I'm just standing here, studying his expression, watching as the color drains from his face. Silence creeps in.

Vaughn's eyes squeeze shut as he rakes his fingers through his hair. "Fuck," another curse is blurted out, frustration skating all over his face. When he opens his eyes again, he looks at me with a serious expression. "How much did you hear?"

This is the time when I should play along and say something like 'nothing', just for the sake of saving him. But stupidly, I say, "Well, it's something about a birthday cake..." I trail off. "Something about arranging a table, flowers and booking the entire place--"

"Goddammit." He snaps his body around, his back facing me, and more swear words come out from his mouth.

"Vaughn?" I call him softly, amused. When I try to reach him, he stops me with his hand without even looking at me. He's still facing our back garden, one hand balled into a fist on his side and the other one covering his eyes.

"I fucked up," he mutters to himself.

I have to suppress my laughter, because he's just too adorable. While he's still mourning his mistake, I step back into the living room and turn on the phonograph.

Soon, the soothing sound of saxophone fills the room, slow music playing in the background.

Vaughn finally turns around, staring at me, and I plaster my most innocent smile.

"Dance with me?" I beg him with my eyes.

He still looks angry at himself, but his eyes soften as he approaches me. I put my hand on his shoulder, my other hand connected with his, while he places his other hand on my hip.

Soon, we're slow dancing to the music, the sound of the rain outside making the atmosphere more intimate. I lay my head against his chest, enjoying his signature scent. He just got back from work, and he's still wearing his office attire, but he always smells so damn good.

"So what was that all about?" I smile, my voice a whisper. "Now that I've heard it all, you can tell me everything."

"Melanie," he groans in irritation, and I know that he's rolling his eyes even though I can't see it.

"Vaughn." I chuckle. "I'll still love every bit of it even if it's no longer a surprise." I look up at him, raising my eyebrows. "Come on. Tell me. Are you preparing a birthday cake?"

He sighs in defeat. "It's a part of a candlelight dinner."

My smile is getting bigger. "With flowers?"

He scoffs. "I should spill everything now that I failed it, shouldn't I?" But as he sees the anticipation in my eyes, a smile curves on his lips. "Lots of garden roses. Your favorite flowers in your favorite colors."

My heart melts even more. "In a romantic restaurant?" I keep going.

"Jemme. Favorite spot."

I gasp. It's the best fine dining restaurant here, the most difficult one to book, especially for the favorite spot overlooking the entire city.

Vaughn's cocky smirk creeps on his lips as he notices my eyes sparkling with excitement.

"You don't have to do it all." I sigh, laying my head back on his chest. "It's too much." He makes me feel so grateful.

None of us says anything -- we're just enjoying our comfortable silence, still slow-dancing. When I step back, Vaughn holds my arm up and twirl me around. When I return to him, I collide with his chest, and both of us chuckle as he engulfs me in his arms.

Every second I spend with him is precious.

I look up at him as we resume swaying. "Have you ever thought of going back to our country?" The question leaves my lips out of the blue.

Vaughn gives me a questioning look. "Why are you suddenly asking about that?"

"I mean, the reason why you came here in the first place was me," I whisper. "Have you ever thought about coming back home? Don't you miss your parents?"

Maybe I shouldn't ask this question now. I know that Perth has become our second home. We've even decided to hold our wedding here.

Vaughn has bought this brand new house for us. He also enjoys his job here -- he just got promoted. Everything is perfect here.

"In the future, maybe yes," Vaughn says. "But not anytime soon. I already have a very settled job here."

I nod. That's right. I just want to make sure of that.

Now that I think about it, we haven't made any celebration for him getting promoted. Maybe I should do something about that.

I stare into his eyes, drowning in those beautiful ambers. "I just want to let you know that I'll support you, wherever it is, Vaughn. I don't want to be a hindrance to you. I don't fear my past anymore."

Vaughn brushes his fingers against my cheek while still pulling me closer to him by the waist. "You don't know how much you mean to me, Mel." His voice is filled with so much emotion, and I can see that he's trying to control it.

I think that I know how much I mean to him. Three bullets are enough to make me think that I am his everything, right?

But why is he always speaking like I'll never understand the depth of his love?

Vaughn's lips brush against mine, and I close my eyes, circling my arms around his neck. His kiss washes away all my thoughts -- I can't think of anything else but him and only him.

I glance at my wristwatch. 5 PM.

Good thing that the meeting ends early. I can't wait to get home, because today is Melanie's birthday. Yes, I've prepared a romantic dinner for the two of us at one of the best restaurants in town.

Everything would be perfect if I didn't fucking ruin the surprise. I should have expected that she would eavesdrop on my call after I heard her stop playing the piano yesterday. I was too caught up with planning everything perfectly.

I sigh as I finish signing all the documents on my desk. Fiona, my secretary, collects all the papers with a big smile on her face -- I bet that she can't wait to go home early. She has three kids waiting for her at home.

"About next week's meeting schedule, do you want to arrange your business meeting with--" her words are cut short when we hear a knock on the door.

To my surprise, Melanie stands in the doorway, draped in a long coat. I have no idea why she's here, because we've agreed that we'll meet at home.

Fiona is about to open her mouth to continue her sentence, but she knows better to drop the subject once Melanie comes into the picture. We can still discuss work first thing on Monday morning. Fiona knows so well that Melanie always comes first before work and that she's my priority.

One time, she saw me taking Melanie's call in the middle of an important meeting. It turned out that Melanie only wanted to ask about what I wanted to have for dinner, and now everybody in this office knows that I'm obsessed with my fiancee's cooking.

"You can leave now, Fiona," I say, and she walks off.

Melanie watches her leave before turning to me. "Are you sure that I'm not interrupting your schedule? I mean, I can wait."

I let out a chuckle. God, I missed her. "Come here."

A soft smile touches her lips before she approaches me. She looks so beautiful -- she always looks beautiful -- but today, something is different.

The way she has put her makeup on, with those sultry smoky eyes and those kissable glossy red lips, makes me think that she has glowed up for tonight event.

I pull her into a hug, sighing in contentment. When we pull away, I lean to kiss her, but she steps back, making me raise my eyebrows in question.

Melanie walks back toward the door and locks it. When she drops her coat to the ground, I freeze.

There standing before me is Melanie wearing a black dress that is beyond sexy. The off the shoulder part is so low, leaving her skin bare -- except for her breasts, stomach and the rest of her arms that are only covered by sheer lace patterns.

The dress has phenomenally high slits, reaching up to her upper thighs on both sides of her legs.

That fucking dress can't be fucking legal.

Fuck.

What day is it today? As far as I remember, it's Melanie's birthday. Not mine.

And it is not Christmas either.

What the fuck is going on?

Not that I'm complaining.

I'm too starstruck to think clearly. Melanie slowly approaches me, and the predator in me begs to be unleashed.

Knowing that I'm not in the right state of mind to form any words, Melanie starts, "You know, since you've got promoted a few days ago, we haven't made any celebration. So, I was thinking that..." she falters, touching my chest. "I've been wondering what you would like..."

You. I growl in my heart.

Fuck. It's you, Melanie. I want nothing else but you.

You know damn well what I love the most.

Fuck.

I've lost count on how many curses I've blurted in my head.

Without warning, I pull her and corner her against my desk. Melanie's eyes widen as she stares into the desire burning in mine.

What did she expect? She should have known that she would make me go crazy by wearing this fucking dress. It's funny that my reaction to her invitation always makes her taken aback no matter how confident she was in the first place.

Melanie.

She always underestimates the power she holds on me.

The more I press my body against her, against this desk, the more I see that frantic thoughts begin to consume her mind.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask, my voice low.

She swallows, while my eyes are locked on her lips.

"Well?"

"I'm hungry."

Oh, you don't know how fucking hungry I am right now.

"Hungry?" I lean closer to her, making her back touch the desk.

She slowly nods.

"For what?"

"Seafood."

For fuck sake.

That's not the answer that I expected.

"Really?" I push her.

"Yeah," she says, breathless. "I..." She looks confused, but then the look in her eyes lets me know that she's not kidding. "I don't know why, but I'm really hungry for seafood right now."

I frown. I realize that I didn't order any seafood for our candlelight dinner later.

Now this has turned into an important issue that takes my mind off our compromising position for a while.

"Well, we can order it later at the restaurant," I say.

Melanie shakes her head. "We don't have to."

"But you said that you're craving for it."

"I don't want just any seafood," she says, making me wonder. "I know that this is weird, but I'm thinking about the seafood from the restaurant that we went to with Mom and Dad last year. The one in Sydney."

I freeze again. "You want that seafood?"

"They serve great fish and chips, just the perfect amount of spice."

I study her expression. She looks like she's indeed hungry for food, not for me. She's wearing this insane dress, burning under my fingertips, and she's thinking about that food. Fuck me.

"We can go there tonight," I say, dumping all the perfect plan I've prepared in one of the most romantic restaurants in Perth.

"To Sydney?" she echoes, her eyes wide. "But we can't. You've got everything prepared for our dinner tonight." She sounds panic.

"I already ruined my perfect plan yesterday," I say truthfully. "Besides, the food you want to eat isn't there."

We stare at each other in silence, before I realize that what I said didn't make sense.

"Shit," I curse. "It's a four to five hours journey by flight to Sydney, so the restaurant may have been closed once we arrive. It will have passed midnight. We may have to wait until tomorrow." I don't know if she can hold her craving.

"They open 24 hours during the weekend," Melanie says. Noticing the surprise on my face, she adds, "I looked it up."

Fuck. She even googled it. We're definitely going there. Period.

"We're going there, birthday girl," I state. "You're going to have that fish and chips."

"You're crazy," she echoes.

I throw my head back and laugh. She's right. Here we are, in my office, me towering her and about to rip her dress to devour her, but we're talking about a goddamn fish and chips.

Goddammit, this woman is the death of me.

"I'm not kidding." I smirk. "We're going there tonight." Seeing her jaw drop again, I add in a low voice, "After you changed your clothes. No one can see you in this fucking dress except me." My voice is still full of desire.

Melanie stares at me in disbelief. "So we're just going to pack real quick and fly to Sydney?"

I nod. This is going to be our weekend getaway. "It's going be a long journey, though. We may have to grab some snacks at the airport. I don't want you to starve."

"I can hold it," she blurts out. "I'm hungry, but not that hungry, if you know what I mean."

She's stumbling upon her words, and I find it freaking cute.

"I just want to taste that fish and chips--" she stops when she slaps her forehead, covering her eyes. "Oh, God. I sound like a madwoman." When she opens her eyes, worry crosses her expression. "What about you? What if you're already hungry? And five hours will be so torturing--"

Her sentence stops short when I lift her and drop her on my desk that she's now fully lying on it. The hunger in my eyes says it all. I watch as the muscles of her neck move when she swallows.

She knows damn well what I'm craving right now.

"I'm having my meal now."

Chicken Cordon Bleu.

We've flown all the way from Perth to Sydney, to this exact restaurant where she can have her favorite fish and chips, and now I'm looking at her eating her Chicken Cordon Bleu.

I watch as she takes a bite of the food slowly, avoiding my gaze. "It looked good on the menu," she says, her voice filled with guilt.

I chuckle. She can have any food she wants. I just want her to have a happy tummy.

The restaurant overlooks the water and the beautiful scenery of the city, but what makes it perfect is her. Travelling with her is one of my favorite things to do, and I like it when she's being impulsive once in a while.

Halfway through finishing the food, Melanie's hands shoot to her mouth that she drops the dining utensils onto the plate. I stop, watching her.

"I--" She looks like she's about to throw up. "I feel nauseated--" She stands up and rushes to the washroom.

Concern immediately strikes me. I stand up and strides behind her. When I hear her throwing up inside the cubicle, panic begins to fill me.

She's coughing heavily. I knock on the door, but it's locked from inside.

"Melanie!" I shout, trying to open the door. "Are you okay?"

After I hear the sound of water flushing, the lock is unlatched, and Melanie steps out, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She's panting, her face pale.

And my heart sinks. I pull her into my arms. "Shit. Are you not feeling well?"

She hugs me back, and when I pull away, I notice that she's deep in thought, like she doesn't understand what's happening to her body.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, looking into her eyes, cursing silently at myself. "I didn't know that you're not feeling well. The journey was indeed tiring."

She seems to be at a loss for words.

"Do you want to rest now? Let's go to the hotel," I say.

And she just nods in return.

I wake up, feeling the loss of warmth in my arms, and my mind is on alert. I was hugging Melanie to sleep, but now, the bed beside me is empty.

Abruptly sitting up, I look around. The clock on the nightstand shows that it hasn't reached dawn. I get off from the bed. "Melanie?"

I pass the bathroom, but it's empty. When I notice that the door to the balcony is opened, the curtain flowing through it, I frown. I step toward it, and there before my eyes, I see Melanie leaning against the railing, staring at the magnificent view of Sydney, her back facing me.

Even though she's now wearing a bathrobe to