Hearts in the Dark

By Kaitlyn Hawthorne

Hearts in the Dark

On Christmas Eve, two strangers find themselves trapped in the tallest office building in the city, sparking an unexpected love story that will captivate your heart.

After leaving behind a painful past in New York, she moved to Los Angeles seeking a fresh start, never expecting to fall in love again. He always believed that grand things weren't meant for him, content with his quiet, uneventful life. But fate has other plans.

When a blackout leaves them stranded on the twenty-seventh floor of R&Stafford Law Firm, the two solitary coworkers, alone and illuminated only by the stars, discover that sometimes the darkest moments can reveal the brightest possibilities.

"Hearts in the Dark" is a tale of love and new beginnings, where the unexpected twists of fate bring two souls together. Will one night be enough to redefine their feelings and change their lives forever?

Discover the magic of a Christmas Eve blackout in Los Angeles, and let "Hearts in the Dark" light up your heart with its unforgettable romance. Perfect for fans of heartfelt love stories and serendipitous encounters, this book will leave you believing in the power of new beginnings.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kaitlyn Hawthorne
• Release date: May 20, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224595242

Kaitlyn Hawthorne

Born in 1995 amidst the lush landscapes of Ireland, Kaitlyn Hawthorne is a versatile author known for her captivating romances and adventurous forays into other genres. With each story, she transports readers to enchanting worlds filled with passion and intrigue, leaving a lasting impression on hearts and imaginations alike.

Book preview

Prologue

Letting go is an act of protection and self-care, especially when staying hurts more. When staying hurts daily.

My psychologist asked, with her calm yet always incisive voice, what my decision would be faced with these two paths, or if I would try a third way. Would I stay hurt, let go even knowing the consequences, or find something in between.

I had always been dedicated to the things I wanted. I was never the top of the class, not even the standout student, but I worked hard to be right behind them.

Even so, I spent months looking for that third way, because I didn't want to admit to myself that leaving was the best choice.

But my heart seems to no longer bear staying, it no longer seems to bear being so hurt, so deluded.

So needy and deprived.

Maybe the universe had warned me before, but I always preferred not to listen. I made countless mistakes because of this.

However, I've reached the edge of the cliff, and I'd rather throw myself off to see if I have wings or not, than stay here just thinking about the fall.

The ring on my finger shines, big and beautiful. A monstrosity made for show.

Everything I ever wanted.

My greatest trap for myself.

I swallow my tears because I'm tired of crying over the best decision.

I'm tired of crying, quietly, without anyone hearing.

I'm tired of living a life that isn't mine, of being a person I'm not.

I pull the solitaire along with the other two rings that make up the ring holder, observing the mark they leave on my finger.

The larger ring has two stones flanking the main one, and they always hurt my finger, leaving small deep marks.

It seems like the right ring to symbolize our engagement, or his love. The kind that hurts and doesn't even care about that fact.

I thought for a while that I might not care about that either, until it became unbearable, became dirty and cruel.

In a game of chess, I was always the pawn, easily discarded from the games, the one most affected by others' moves. A means to an end. But the exhaustion of this position has come, and I don't even want to play anymore.

I leave the three rings on the kitchen counter, on top of the letter I wrote during the night. I get up from the stool and walk to the door, taking my two suitcases and putting them outside.

I lock the door behind me and in one more act of self-love, I take the key off my keychain, pushing it under the door.

I don't want to have this access.

I don't want to be this person I'm leaving behind.

I don't want to be the pawn, or play chess.

I no longer want to stay here, if it means continuing to hurt myself.

So, I let go.

Everything.

Chapter One

Angel

Ilisten to a podcast about something that could collide with Earth in a few days, if not for the self-destruction that befell it – quite promising – while drafting the thirty-sixth contractual clause for the purchase of shares in a winery at GreenLight, a sustainable technology company. They are one of the firm's biggest clients, and being in charge of this process has been exciting, besides taking up more than half of my waking hours each day, which makes it even more worthwhile.

Distractions, life is made of them. It's up to you to choose how to determine each one as good or bad.

A short silence between episodes makes me hear people singing in the building next door and also notice the music playing on the street.

I didn't expect a limbo for Christmas Eve, but Los Angeles showed me more excitement than expected.

Even though nothing beats New York.

My fingers freeze on the keyboard, and I close them, stretching them again, wanting to escape my thoughts. I need to finish this contract today to stay within the goals I set for working during this holiday. It will be signed only at the beginning of next year, but I want to review everything a few times, besides looking for any inconsistency that might put us in a bad position.

I can't spend my time looking at the Statue of Liberty souvenir my colleagues bought to test me last week. I never thought I'd get past twenty-four and still have to deal with bullies. Not that I dealt with them in school, I just believed that in adulthood people would mature.

I was wrong, it's a usual thing for me.

I am the New York around here, a nickname that's not at all affectionate, just to make it clear that I'm an outsider. At least they stopped using Miss Hawthorne. That was even more annoying. As if I were royalty, and in New York, I am part of one, but I'm the Prince Harry of my legacy. I decided to leave, to abandon the crown.

They know nothing, I keep myself stuck in this thought and look again at my computer screen.

I'm halfway through the last sentence, rereading it to regain my train of thought when everything goes dark. Including my screen.

Fuck, I hope I didn't lose the latest changes.

I said they should buy stabilizers for this crap.

I try to focus on this, focus on my anger over the process, over the changes I might have lost because of the power outage rather than on the darkness itself. But my breathing gets heavy and I feel my pulse quicken.

No, Angel, come on, I say to myself. I close my eyes and try to do my breathing exercises.

I can't panic now, but it's not like I have much choice.

I rest my hands on the glass table, feeling its smooth texture under my fingers, focusing on the scent of the diffuser I keep in my office. It's a small place, a little room that fits a wide glass table, my president-style chair, and two others in front of the table, plus some shelves. All the offices here are tiny, except for the gigantic ones belonging to the partners.

I dreamed of this position in the past, but I discovered that I prefer to stay on the edges rather than attract the wrong attention.

Damn it, this isn't helping, I whisper, opening my eyes and trying to breathe despite the tightness in my chest.

If I had worked from home, this wouldn't be happening.

I get up suddenly and grope for the doorknob blindly, only with the small slits of the blinds open. Damn automatic blinds, I could open them, but they don't work without power. Apparently, nothing here works.

The hallway is darker than inside, but I see one of the emergency lights on at the end of the corridor, which leads to the central area of the floor.

My feet are sweaty inside the pumps, but I refuse to take them off and walk barefoot. I still have a shred of dignity amid my fear of the dark. My legs tremble as I walk, with an unjustifiable fear of all the horrors that can hide in the dark.

It's irrational, but that's how fear works.

I regain some of my breath when I reach the more open part of the office. It's the entrance hall. The elevators are on one side, near the hallway that leads to the staff pantry and a larger kitchen where our lunch is prepared. The floor is a small labyrinth divided into five partners' offices, numerous corridors with the associates' divisions by sectors, a cafeteria, access stairs to the terrace, and we occupy four floors of this building.

I walk to the middle of the open area, the heart of the company. Several secretaries' desks are placed at the edges, a small bar with cold and hot drinks is near the elevators, and armchairs are scattered here and there. Everything is now lit by the five emergency lights and also by the external light coming through the glass that covers an entire wall on one side.

It's a bit scary at first, but now I appreciate this pompous architecture that allows the room to be more illuminated.

I run my hands over the pants of the black two-piece suit I wear, though I ditched the blazer hours ago, and pat my pockets.

Great, in my little panic, I didn't even grab my phone.

But it's not like anyone would text me. Clients rarely seek to give us work on holidays. Work for us means a headache for them, and no one wants a headache on Christmas.

It's not like my father or mother would want to remember me on a holiday either.

I sigh, running my hand through my hair and letting it down from the bun made with a pen, letting my blonde strands fall