Prove Me Wrong by Gemma Hart Page B

light.
                  I irrationally thought of the board game Monopoly. The man looked so richly tailored that all I could see was dollar signs. He was clearly a wealthy man. What was he doing here?
                  I was about to call out, asking if I could help him when I heard a woman’s voice murmur from his side. I skipped a step before cautiously continuing towards the front. Who were this unknown man and woman?
                  “…you could’ve just bought a new one,” I heard the woman sniff in a clear and elegant voice that spoke of born entitlement. “I don’t know why you insist on tracking this one down.”
                  I finally rounded the corner and said in my normal cheery customer greeting, “Hello! Can I help you with—”
                  My words stuck to my throat before I could finish my question.
                  Standing in front of me was Jonah.
                  And yet…it wasn’t Jonah at all.
                  I had never seen him this polished looking. He looked like a gleaming piece of obsidian, hard and black.
                  Standing tall, he wore the tailored black suit like a second skin. When I had met him, he had been wearing a black leather jacket and jeans and while they had been clearly expensive clothes, they were still casual and rough.
                  But in this suit, Jonah looked like god himself. Every aura of power and authority that surrounded him was magnified. The crispness of the white shirt highlighted the bronze of his taut skin. The black stubble looked even blacker against the white.
                  He looked taller, broader, bigger, and just more…powerful.
                  He was almost unrecognizable.
                  I stood, mouth agape, as I stared at him.
                  But it wasn’t the suit or the slicked back hair that made him unrecognizable. It was his eyes.
                  The dark eyes looked at me with a cold unfamiliarity that made me almost shiver in response. After days of having me tucked in his embrace, feeling his cock drive passionately into me, and his lips roughly kissing mine, seeing his look of cold dispassion made me take a step back.
                  The awkward cool pause between us was broken by a frustrated sigh.
                  I looked over Jonah’s shoulder and saw a tall woman standing next to him. With short sleek black hair and sharp cheekbones, she looked like a French supermodel. Wearing a fitted cream dress that showed off her lean arms and ungodly long legs, she raised a thin brow at me.
                  “Hello,” she said in the shortest, most curt voice I had ever heard. The word sounded less like a greeting in her voice and more like a demeaning call. “My fiancé left his phone here apparently. Do you happen to know if you have it?”
                  I swallowed hard, feeling the world swim around me. My eyes immediately darted up towards Jonah but all I was greeted with was that same cool look.
                  “Fiancé?” I croaked, my heart shattering like a cracked mirror. I could feel each fracture worming their way through my heart. It was then that I noticed Jonah’s arm around the woman’s waist, holding her close and familiarly. It made my throat clamp up to see it.
                  I remembered how it felt to be held like that. By him.
                  The woman looked at me impatiently. “Yes,” she said. She made a small gesture towards Jonah. “I’m sure you must remember if someone like Jonah Lowell makes it into a store like this.” She gave the small place a disdainful look over.
                  Oxygen seemed to be leaking out of my lungs, leaving me breathless.
                  “Lowell?” I whispered.