“Yeah, well, I’d hate to disappoint my husband,” I said dryly, the word “husband” tasting strangely foreign, but also somehow right.
His brows rose. “Ah, right. I heard about that. Marco Grey. You know, if I’d realized all it took to get you to the altar was a contract, I’d have offered you one myself ages ago.”
I scoffed, rolling my eyes dramatically. Sebastian’s arrogance always bordered on charming, until it didn’t. Until I had a different standard to compare it to.
“Please. You and marriage? We’d have killed each other in a week. Great sex, sure, but let’s face it—you’re even more of a disaster than I am. You’d drive a good girl crazy, let alone me.”
He laughed again, softer this time, taking another drag. “Maybe you’re right. Still, you’re wasting your talents playing housewife with Grey.”
I hummed. “But I quite like playing housewife with Grey.”
“What does he offer you?” he wondered.
Good question. Great question, actually, and one I’d avoided asking. I knew what Marco didn’t offer—no promises, no romantic gestures, nothing sappy enough to put in a greetings card—but what he did offer felt dangerously intangible.
What did Marco Grey offer me?
Stability, for one. And not the boring kind—the kind that made chaos feel manageable, even when my life was stillobjectively a mess. Protection too. And care. Quiet, restrained care that somehow felt deeper than loud declarations ever could.
But Sebastian definitely didn’t get to hear that part.
“Too late for you to one-up him, Sebastian.”
He shrugged. “I could have it annulled.”
“It’s cute you think paperwork’s the only reason I’d choose him over you.”
“And it’s cute you think he’d still be here without it.” He laughed softly, bitterness barely hidden.“You always did confuse security for sincerity.”
I rolled my eyes. “And you always did confuse arrogance with honesty. At least Marco knows how to pick one.”
“Calling your own husband arrogant?”
“Do not pick a fight with me,” I argued, snatching the cigarette from his fingers.
“I’m just wondering, because it certainly isn’t honesty.”
I stared back at him blankly. What the hell was he implying? Marco was plenty of things, but dishonest?
That wasn’t Marco.
Marco was the opposite. Marco was the guy who lectured me about honesty with his eyebrows alone. No—Marco wasn’t dishonest. He waspainfullyhonest.
Obsessively so.
I’d built my barely-there trust around that relentless transparency. Hell, I’d practically made it my emotional support animal—something I could pet and pretend was real until I inevitably got bitten. And god, right now, standing here, Sebastian’s look felt like teeth grazing skin.
My heart gave a sudden squeeze, uncomfortable and annoying and very badly timed. Because it felt like Sebastian had something huge, something ugly, and I really wasn’t ready for ugly. Not again. Not today. Not sober.
“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”
He studied me for a moment. God, I hated him in that moment. It felt like he was about to rip the rug out from under my feet, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for whatever was hiding underneath it.
“Let’s take a drive,” he suggested.
“Let’s not and say we did. Saves us both the regret.”
“This isn’t for me, Valentina. Trust me. My day would be a hell of a lot easier if I left you out of it.”
