Swipe Right For Love

Chapter 1

Nadine

The winter sun slants through the boutique's windows, casting long shadows across the empty shop floor. My phone buzzes with the notification from the temp agency – a half-day's pay is better than nothing.

"You sure you don't mind, Nadine?" Jessica, the shop owner, wrings her hands. "I hate sending you home early when you came in last minute."

"Trust me, an afternoon off is exactly what I need." I adjust my bobby pin, securing a stray dark wave back into place. "Besides, gives me time to surprise someone."

My old Toyota Carola grumbles to life in the parking lot. I reach up to the sun visor, touching the worn photograph tucked there. Mom's white dress, Dad's proud smile – their wedding day preserved in fading colors.

I press my fingers to my lips then to their photo. It's my ritual, my way of carrying them with me.

The drive to Damien's place takes twenty minutes. His building rises above the others, all gleaming glass and modern angles. The security guard nods as I pull into the visitor's spot.

The elevator whispers as it climbs to the twentieth floor. My reflection in the polished doors shows my smile, and I straighten my collar. Four months of dating, and sometimes I still can't believe it. Damien could have anyone – models, socialites, women who don't juggle five different temp jobs just to make rent. But he chose me.

His spare key slides into his lock, and I step into a luxury of hardwood floors, pristine furniture and a view that makes me feel like I belong here with the elite of California. The sunset paints the Pacific golden, and the whole city spreads out below like a carpet of lights just starting to twinkle awake.

My fingers trail along the marble countertop as I set down my purse, and that's when I spot them – Damien's keys, tossed carelessly next to an empty wine glass.

I wasn't expecting him to be here, but if he's home, then I may as I well surprise him in the best way I know how.

Not seeing him in the kitchen or den, I slowly start to unbutton my blouse ready to surprise him with an early evening delight. I start to head towards his room, but then I hear the shower running. I peak over at the bathroom door and notice steam curling from underneath. I could slip in, surprise him...

A moan echoes off the tiles, followed by a feminine giggle that freezes my blood. My eyes catch on something red and lacy draped over the back of his Italian leather chair. A bra. Not mine. Never mine.

"Right there," a woman's voice purrs, and my stomach drops. I know that voice. Sarah from the temp agency, the one whose shift I covered today.

A crumpled pencil skirt lies under the dresser like a snake shedding its skin. My bobby pin digs into my palm as I clench my fists. The bathroom door looms ahead, steam seeping beneath it like poison gas instead of an invitation now.

Another moan. Damien's this time. The sound drives bile up my throat, burning worse than the tears threatening to spill.

My hand trembles as it reaches for the doorknob. The metal's cool against my palm, a stark contrast to the heat flooding my face. The hinges don't make a sound as I push – they never do, not in a place this expensive.

Steam billows out, and through its veil, I see them. Through the glass shower door, two figures merge into one, all wet skin and betrayal. The water beats down, but it can't wash away what I'm witnessing.

My throat closes around words I can't form. The bathroom tiles spin beneath my feet as nausea rises, threatening to bring up the lunch I shoved down in between jobs. Between covering for her.

The bathroom door slams behind me, cutting off their moans. Water squeaks off. My heart pounds against my ribs like it's trying to escape what my eyes just witnessed.

Damien's wet head pokes out, droplets running down his stubbled jaw. His gray eyes find mine, not a hint of shame in them.

"Oh, uh, hey Nadine."

"I covered Sarah's shift." My voice cracks. "Because she said she was sick."

Sarah emerges behind him, wrapping herself in his Egyptian cotton towel. Her face flushes red, but she doesn't meet my eyes.

"I worked a double shift for you." The words taste like acid. "While you were here, with him?"

"Look." Damien steps out, not bothering with a towel. "You're making this bigger than it needs to be."

"Bigger than it needs to be? We're dating? I came here to surprise you and… and… you said you loved me. I thought—"

He shrugs, water dripping onto his imported tiles. "Nadine, come on. I just said what you wanted to hear."

My breath leaves me completely. My fingers find the counter's edge, steadying myself.

“Seriously? But the time you spent with me, the things you told me… That was all just an act?”

“Pretty good, huh?” He doesn’t smirk, but his cockiness says it all. “Listen, you had to have known this was coming. I wanted to experience other things and I had chocolate, now I wanted some vanilla,” he says with a head jerk towards Sarah who’s still standing there watching us in her towel. My towel.

“I can’t believe you–”

"Chill the fuck out, Nadine." He runs a hand through his wet hair. "What did you expect? That this was going somewhere? Come on. You're a temp and I’m Damien Lynx. We could never really be together."

I don't even know what to say to that. Of course I thought this was something more, why wouldn't I? But the words stick and all I can do is grab my overnight bag from his closet, shoving in the few things I'd left here. A toothbrush. A spare dress. Foolish dreams.

As I gather the last of my stuff, I finally find my voice. "This was all an act then? You were so doting, caring—"

Again, he shrugs. "Well yeah, the sex was good, wasn't it?"

I can't believe how easy this is for him. I feel like a fool for thinking he could be with someone like me. For believing him. It was all just for sex? I can't bear to look at him anymore, I need to leave.

"Don't take it personally. We had a good time, but I have needs." His words follow me down the hallway.

The elevator doors can't close fast enough. I need to get out of here.

My tires squeal against asphalt as I peel out of there. Streets blur past, neon signs bleeding into each other through my tears. The sun's almost gone, painting everything in shades of betrayal.

A red light flashes ahead. I slam the brakes too late. Metal crunches. My body jerks forward, then back.

Through my cracked windshield, I watch a tall figure unfold from the BMW I just hit.

Could this day get any worse?