Page 97

The gala had been long, loud, and filled with too many fake smiles. I’d barely made it out before midnight, slipping away the second the speeches ended.

I loosened my tie in the back of the car and let my head rest against the cool window. The city lights flickered past like ghosts I didn’t care to chase. Shadows and motion—nothing I wanted to follow.

On the short ride home, my phone buzzed twice. Security alerts. Someone had used the main gate code. Then, just seconds later, the private elevator access.

My first thought? Elena probably forgot something stupid—again. Eggs, or mint, or whatever else she’d decided my kitchen was missing. I didn’t check. I was tired, and she knew the codes anyway. It wasn’t unusual.

When the driver parked in the garage, I noticed the private elevator was still in motion. The glowing floor indicator blinked slowly, making my gut tighten without a reason.

Instead of waiting, I took the public elevator, which for once was miraculously free. The last floor, I climbed. Three steps at a time. No reason why.

Maybe instinct.

The moment I pushed the door open—quietly, cautiously—the breath left my lungs.

Her.

Sierra.

I froze in the entryway, my hand still on the doorknob like I forgot how to let go. I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Time slammed to a halt and shattered at my feet.

She stood there like a ghost I’d spent months thinking about. Not in a dream. Not on a screen. In my damn living room.

Hair a little messy from the wind, like she’s been standing outside too long. Eyes wide, glassy, taking everything in and giving nothing back. Shoulders tense like she’d either bolt or break apart if I so much as breathed wrong.

The silence rang in my ears louder than anything the gala had thrown at me.

What was she doing here?

My heart pounded so violently I was sure it would echo in the room. Not from anger. Not even shock. Something heavier. Older. More dangerous.

I closed the door slowly, not wanting to disturb whatever the hell was unfolding in front of me. I didn’t want her to vanish.

I should’ve said something. Her name. Anything. But all I could do was stare, because for the first time in months, I couldn’t tell if I was still angry or just… fucking wrecked from missing her.

Just as I took a quiet step toward her, Elena’s voice floated out from the kitchen.

“Nick. You’re home? That’s great. I’ve been waiting for you.”

And Sierra… she turned to stone.

Her shoulders locked in place, her spine straightened like someone had just yanked a wire through her back. She didn't move. Didn’t even breathe.

God.

She thought I was with someone else. She thought Elena was the woman I had replaced her with. The one I was sharing my life—my nights—with.

For fuck’s sake.

We aren’t even divorced. I still wore the damn ring—not that she’d know that. But she knows I never filed again. She never signed the first papers. Never sent them back. And me? I didn’t have the guts to send more.

I told myself I did—told myself I shouldn’t care. But the truth was I was terrified. I sent those papers out of rage… but underneath that was fear.

And now she was here. In my home. Standing frozen like someone had just ripped her heart out—because she thought I had moved on.

And honestly? I couldn’t even blame her. If I were her, I’ll probably think the same. Hell, anyone would.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t piss me off. That she still believed that about me. That even after everything we’ve been through, she could still picture me in someone else’s bed. Like I was just some fucking cliché playboy who didn’t give a fuck.