Chapter 4

It felt like a bomb went off inside my head.

Three years ago. Before I quit my job and married into the Cross family, I had been working as a VP at a corporation — but I never once met the owner. Every part of my onboarding had been handled through the HR director.

"You didn't know your boss's last name was Thorne?"

"I signed an NDA when I joined. The company used a code name."

"Mm." He let out a soft, indifferent sound. "That was my requirement."

My fingers gripped the agreement. My knuckles went white.

"So from the very beginning, you knew I was Damon's ex-wife."

"More than that." He walked around the desk and came to stand right in front of me, looking down at me from above. "I know he cheated on you for two years. I know his mother looked down on you for coming from an ordinary family. I know that at the Cross family, even the servants felt entitled to treat you like dirt."

"You—"

"I also know that on the day of your divorce, you stood outside your ex-husband's office building for three hours — and then left alone in a cab."

My eyes stung instantly.

That was the most humiliating day of my life. After Damon signed the divorce papers, he didn't even bother to see me out. I stood in front of his building for almost an hour waiting for a cab. The wind was brutal. I was wearing heels, and they'd rubbed my feet raw until they bled.

"How did you know that?"

"I happened to be in a meeting in the building across the street that day." His voice dropped. "I saw you crouch down by the curb and take your heels off. You stood there barefoot on the pavement."

"…"

"From that moment on, I knew — I was going to make you my wife."

He said it the way you'd state a fact. Calm. Certain. Like it had already been decided.

"Marcus, are you out of your mind?"

"Not even a little." He pulled another photo from the drawer and slid it across to me.

It was the two of us at a contract signing event three years ago. I was in my work suit, head down, reading through documents. He was standing slightly behind me and to the side, his gaze resting on me.

That look in his eyes — soft in a way that didn't seem like him at all.

"I noticed you at that signing." He tapped the photo with his knuckles. "But you were married then, so I didn't do anything."

"So now you're—"

"Now you're divorced, and I'm single." He cut me off. "I waited three years for this chance, Sloane. Do you really think I'm going to let it go?"

I stepped back. My back hit the edge of the desk.

"This isn't love. This is obsession."

"Call it whatever you want." He picked up the prenuptial agreement and held it out to me. "But it's all right here in black and white — pre-marital assets stay separate, and everything you own after marriage is fully protected by law. I'm not Damon. I won't let you get burned."

"But this whole marriage is a setup!"

"A setup?" He laughed — cool, humorless. "You showed up to a speed dating event and tossed out your ex-husband's name as your secret passcode. Who were you looking for, Sloane? Were you waiting for him to come back?"

That stopped me cold.

"You don't even love him. You just can't accept how it ended." He cut right to the heart of it. "What you need is a marriage that lets you stand back up. And I can give you that."

"What exactly can you give me?"

"Respect. Equality. And—" He paused. "A place that's actually worthy of you."

My heart skipped a beat.

The office lights were bright, throwing his features into sharp relief.

It hit me all at once — this man had woven himself into the edges of my life three years ago, and I had never even noticed.

"I'll give you three days to think it over." He slipped the agreement back into the drawer. "If you still want out after three days, I'll sign."

I stood there and watched him turn and walk toward the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The city glittered outside.

He stood with his back to me, his voice drifting over his shoulder: "Sloane, you need to ask yourself — are you running away from a person, or are you running toward a life?"

I had nothing to say.