Echoes of Unrequited Love (Hogan Zade) novel Chapter 2

Chapter 2 

I glanced down, casually withdrew my gaze, and reached out to press the elevator button. 

Neither of us spoke. 

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over me, a strong reek of alcohol enveloped me, and I felt a tight grip around my waist as Hogan pulled me into his embrace. 

His husky voice tickled my ear, “Xaviera, you still care about me, don’t you?” 

As he spoke, Hogan gently nuzzled my neck, his tone laced with a hint of charm. 

This was something I hadn’t experienced in the past six years. 

I couldn’t help but think of how he’d been sweet–talking Ms. Irwin at the party an hour ago. 

Care about him? 

That was Cecilia’s thing. 

The heavy scent of booze was a dead giveaway that he was plastered. 

I lifted my head wearily and reminded him, “Sorry, I’m not Ms. Irwin.” 

Hogan, still holding me, froze for a moment. 

When our eyes met, I tactfully stepped aside, catching a glimpse of his stiff expression from the corner of my eye. 

The atmosphere turned awkward for a second. 

With a “ding.” the elevator reached the floor, and I walked out with an expressionless face. faintly aware of his gâze that seemed to follow me. 

I walked briskly into my apartment, but as the door was about to close, Hogan suddenly barged in, pinning me against the foyer wall. 

His long legs encroached decisively, and in an instant, I was trapped in his little world. 

“Xaviera, you live here?” 

Hogan’s voice was chilling, a coldness enveloping him. 

It was the same apartment we’d shared two years ago. 

I told him the truth, “The landlord said, ‘Old customers get a $30 discount each month.“” 

Thirty bucks, for us corporate drones, every penny counts. 

Hogan clearly wasn’t happy with my answer, sneering. “On purpose?” 

I flicked on the light and pointed to the newly rearranged interior, retorting, “Does it look like it?” 

Chapter 2 

His preferred minimalist style had been replaced by a lively design, completely the opposite. 

Hogan looked away, furrowed his brows, and after a two–second pause, said, “You need to move out, I’ll cover the difference.” 

I wasn’t sure what Hogan was still hung up about. 

All those corners we’d slept in and lived in were long gone, and besides, he wasn’t coming back was he? 

The next second, Hogan cleared up my confusion, “Cecilia lives upstairs.” 

Well that explained it. 

Talk about a small world. 

No wonder we’d bumped into each other; he must have just seen Cecilia home. 

He’d gone to great lengths to avoid any misunderstandings on her part. 

“The solution’s pretty simple,” I glanced at the apartment’s dated fixtures and suggested, “You could get Ms. Irwin a better place.” 

Hogan could easily afford a swanky high–rise suite in the CBD with a view of the city lights at night. 

Money was never an issue for him. 

Hogan ignored my suggestion, refusing, “I don’t want her to be misunderstood.” 

His tone was firm, and had I not witnessed it, I’d have never imagined the aloof Hogan could be so considerate of someone. 

A sting of pain brushed my heart, and after a moment, I calmly responded, “Sorry, I don’t want to move.” 

This place was near the university area, cheap, with a subway line directly to the office – very convenient. 

But to avoid any unnecessary friction, I said sensibly, “Don’t worry, Ms. Irwin and I won’t cross paths.”