Page 31 of Not His Bride

His forehead creases. “Was I supposed to?”

“No.” A laugh slips out before I can stop it. “That’s the point.”

He seems to understand because his expression softens.

“I figured if you needed something, you’d ask. It’s yours, Lilith. I wasn’t going to come in here and start throwing my name around so people thought otherwise.”

I get an overwhelming warmth. The store is full of people celebrating something I built, and suddenly, I want Gallagher closer.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I set the candle down and cross the space between us. Gallagher barely has time to react before I throw my arms around his neck.

I mean to hug him normally, but I don’t. Hug him normally, that is.

Momentum carries me into him hard enough that his hands snap around my waist, and I end up half off the ground with my arms locked around his shoulders.

Gallagher freezes when I hit him. Then his arms tighten around my waist until there’s almost no space left between us. My cheek presses against the side of his neck, and I can smell his cologne.

I’m still hugging him when the boutique’s chime sounds. I don’t know why I glance at the door. It’s been going off all morning, and this is the first time it’s grabbed my attention. It’s as if my body knows why before my brain does.

My entire family files through the door: Mom, Dad, and Debbie.

Debbie’s in black, which is new for her. Her hair is pulled sleek, and for once, her expression is neutral.

Dad is all business suit and tight jaw. Mom’s hair and makeup are immaculate, but the lines around her eyes are deeper than I remember. Annoyance hits first. Suspicion follows right behind it.

The Jovi Group has not made a single attempt to congratulate me since I quit. I didn’t invite them to this launch.

After pulling away from Gallagher, I brace my hand against the display, flexing all five fingers.

If Portugal is really melting down, then I expect they’re here to try to leverage Ziterweigen or poach suppliers, or maybe try to undercut my reputation. That’s fine. I would prefer an actual fight to the usual passive-aggression.

Gallagher tracks the situation instantly, his posture shifting from observer to alert. He draws in a slow breath and waits for a cue.

My family keeps coming, my dad leading them in, until they’re nearly at the center display. The weight of three years of “supportive Jovi sister” headlines collapses into this one point in space.

Before my dad reaches me, he checks where Maison is standing and whether the boutique owner is with him. He opens with the veneer of professionalism, like this is merely another merger, not an ambush at my candle display. Gallagher moves in before the Jovis reach the shelf. He closes the gap in five steps, putting himself at my shoulder, half a pace behind.

Dad stops. “Lilith,” he says, like he’s escalating a meeting agenda. “Congratulations. This is an impressive launch.”

My mother steps in, glassy smile already fixed. “Really, darling, we’re very proud.”

“The display is beautiful,” my sister says. “Your branding is everywhere today.”

I answer flatly, because I’m not sure I believe they mean their words. “Thank you.”

Gallagher’s hands come out of his pockets, but he stays half a step behind me to give me space.

I give the smallest shake of my head. Stay. With Gallagher staying put, I face my family.

Dad goes next, dropping the small talk. “Okay, I’ll be direct. Jovi Group has had a difficult quarter. Since you left, the Portugal partnership has become a daily problem. Operational issues that should have been handled at the manager level are now my problem. Debbie does what she can, but it’s not enough.”

I don’t give him the sympathy he’s waiting for. “Sounds rough.”

“We replaced you with three people,” he says. “They can’t keep up. I don’t know how you did it alone.”

Debbie joins in without the defensive snap I’m waiting for. “I genuinely didn’t know how many fires you put out before they reached me. When you were here, I basically got a summary, but now I get it all—and every little thing is a crisis.” Her fingers keep worrying the seam of her sleeve while she talks.

Dad nods. “I always said you were talented, Lilith. What I didn’t realize is that you ran the business.” He glances at the display, then at me. “You didn’t handle a project… You were the project.”