I turned back to my mint chocolate. I felt my heart thump, just a little, like a knot I'd been holding for weeks giving a single thread of slack. And then, because it made room for other things—things I'd been carrying alone and hadn't meant to put down in front of anyone—the words came out before I could stop them.
“It’s my sister.”
He looked at me, waiting.
“Her custody battle.” I stared at my ice cream cone because looking at him while saying this felt like too much. “Her ex-husband’s family has money. They’re using the restaurant’sdestruction as evidence of financial instability. Vicky’s income was tied to Sazón because she invested in it. When the restaurant went down, so did her documented earnings. And now Greg’s team is arguing that Eloise would be better off with him.” I swallowed. “That’s part of the reason I was so angry.”
“I’m sorry.” He said it quietly.
I looked at him. “I’m not telling you so you could apologize. I just…”
Wanted to speak about it to someone. Wanted someone to listen.
I caught myself before I said those parts out loud. Heard what I was saying. Who I was saying it to. “I shouldn’t be telling you this. It’s not your problem. You don’t have to listen to my family’s mess.”
“I’m your contract husband.” He said it evenly, looking at me with those blue eyes that gave nothing away and everything at the same time. “The least I can do is listen to my contract wife’s problems.”
I smiled. I couldn’t help it.
“Pretty sure listening to my family drama isn’t in our contract.”
“Neither is eating ice cream together on a sidewalk in Coral Gables.” He held my gaze. “So go ahead, Miley. You can tell me everything.”
My breath caught. His gaze held mine steadily.
Christopher Vale.
He was flawed. He was capable of great cruelty and unexpected kindness in the same breath.
And I was falling for him so hard that the impact was going to leave a mark.
I didn’t trust it. But Ifeltit.
And for the first time since this whole mess started, I didn’t tell myself it was fake.
CHAPTER 17
Miley
I didn’t mean to pack him lunch. I just made extra.
That’s what I told myself while I arranged braised chicken and roasted vegetables into a leather lunch bag at noon. I told myself the same thing while I added a side of rice pilaf because the chicken needed a base. I told myself again while I wrote a sticky note with two smiley faces and tucked it inside, and by the time I zipped the bag shut and set it on the counter, I had told myself I didn’t mean to pack him lunch approximately seven times, which is about six times too many for someone who genuinely didn’t mean to.
Trisha had called the night before. She said the optics of the CEO’s wife visiting the office were excellent. She said it casually, like she was suggesting lunch plans and not orchestrating a public relations move.
So here I was. Walking toward Vale Industries in a dress Christopher had bought me the last time we went shopping, a green wrap dress that fit like it was cut specifically for my body and made me feel like someone who belonged in tall buildings with glass doors and security desks. The heels were new. They were also trying to kill me. Every step on the lobby’s polished floor felt like negotiating a peace treaty with gravity.
The building was sleek and sharp, radiating corporate energy that made me feel like I’d accidentally wandered onto the set of a drama I hadn’t been cast in.
People crossed the lobby with purpose, eyes forward, talking into headsets, all of them running on caffeine and the fear of God—the same fuel as any Friday dinner rush, except no one was sweating and nothing in the air smelled like food. I badged through security with the visitor pass Trisha had arranged and smiled at the receptionist, who clearly recognized me from the internet and was trying very hard to act normal about it.
I headed for the private elevators as instructed and caught my reflection in the polished doors while I waited. The dress Christopher had bought me. The heels that were actively plotting my death. The leather lunch bag that had braised chicken and roasted vegetables.
The elevator arrived. I stepped in and pressed the button for the executive floor. The doors started to close.
A hand caught them.
Manicured nails. Gold bracelet. The doors reopened and a woman stepped inside.
