The car ride back to Manhattan was quiet. Not the comfortable silence they'd shared before, but something heavier, weighted with unspoken questions.
Emma kept replaying Sophie's warning in her head. He had his heart broken once, and he swore never again. The words circled like vultures, picking at the fragile thing growing between her and Alexander—whatever that thing was.
"You're thinking too loud." Alexander's voice cut through her spiral.
Emma turned from the window. "Sophie said something to me. In the bathroom."
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Let me guess. She warned you about my tragic past and told you I'm emotionally unavailable?"
"Something like that."
"Sophie means well. She's just—" He stopped, ran a hand through his hair, messing up the careful styling. "Protective. After Victoria, she appointed herself my personal guard dog."
There it was. The name Emma had been waiting to hear all day. Victoria.
"Your mother mentioned her too," Emma said carefully. "The 'dreadful Victoria business.'"
Alexander's expression shuttered. "My past isn't part of our contract, Emma."
"No, but it's part of you. And if I'm supposed to be your wife—"
"Contract wife."
The words stung more than they should have. "Right. Contract wife. Who apparently isn't entitled to know why her husband flinches every time someone mentions love."
"I don't flinch."
"You absolutely flinch." Emma twisted the wedding ring on her finger—that beautiful platinum band engraved with words that felt more real every day. "Look, I'm not trying to pry. But your family thinks we're madly in love, and I'm walking blind here. What if someone asks me about Victoria? What if she comes up at one of these events?"
"She won't." But something flickered in his eyes. Uncertainty. Fear.
"How can you be sure?"
"Because she's been in Europe for five years. She has no reason to come back."
Emma wanted to push, wanted to demand the full story. But the look on Alexander's face—carefully controlled but brittle underneath—stopped her. He'd shared his nightmare about his brother. Given her pieces of his past in the darkness. Maybe that was all he could offer right now.
"Okay," she said quietly. "But Alexander? If this arrangement is going to work, we need to be able to talk to each other. We don't have to share everything, but complete silence isn't going to cut it either."
He looked at her for a long moment, his gray eyes searching her face for something. "You're right. I'm sorry. It's just—talking about Victoria feels like opening a door I spent five years boarding shut."
"Then we don't have to talk about her tonight." Emma offered a small smile. "One hour at a time, remember?"
His almost-smile appeared. "One hour at a time."
They spent the rest of the drive in actual comfortable silence, and when they arrived at the penthouse, Alexander surprised her by asking if she wanted to have dinner together instead of retreating to their separate spaces.
"Nothing fancy," he said, looking almost nervous. "I can order from that Thai place you mentioned liking. We can just... talk. About things that aren't contracts or families or the past."
Emma's heart did a dangerous little flip. "I'd like that."
They ate pad thai and spring rolls sitting on the floor of the living room—Alexander's idea, surprisingly—and talked about inconsequential things. Favorite movies (his: The Godfather, hers: Pride and Prejudice). Worst job ever (his: filing clerk at his father's office at sixteen, hers: every single one of her three jobs). Dreams they'd had as kids (his: astronaut, hers: building treehouses for a living).
It was normal. Almost domestic. And terrifying in how much Emma enjoyed it.
But that night, alone in her room, Sophie's words wouldn't stop haunting her.
Emma pulled out her laptop.
She'd promised Alexander she wouldn't Google him before their first meeting. But they were married now. Living together. And she deserved to know what she was walking into.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for only a moment before she typed: Alexander Sterling Victoria Ashford
The results exploded across her screen.
"Sterling Heir Jilted at the Altar"
"Billionaire's Wedding Day Disaster"
"Ashford Leaves Sterling for Business Rival Kane"
"The Wedding That Broke Wall Street's Heart"
Emma clicked on the first article, dated five years ago, and her stomach dropped as she read.
In a shocking turn of events, socialite Victoria Ashford failed to appear at her own wedding to tech mogul Alexander Sterling yesterday afternoon. Sources close to the family report that Ashford sent a text message to Sterling just hours before the ceremony, revealing she had eloped with his business competitor, Dominic Kane.
"Alexander is devastated," a family friend shared. "He thought Victoria was the love of his life. To be humiliated like this, in front of everyone, it's unconscionable."
The ceremony was set to take place at the Sterling family estate in Greenwich, with over 300 guests in attendance. Sterling reportedly waited at the altar for over an hour before...
Emma couldn't finish reading. The image was too painful—Alexander standing there, waiting, hoping, while everyone watched his heart break in real time.
She clicked through more articles. Photos of Alexander and Victoria together, both impossibly beautiful, looking like they'd stepped out of a magazine. His face in those pictures was so different—open, young, actually smiling. Before the walls went up.
One article detailed Victoria's relationship with Dominic Kane, Alexander's competitor in the tech industry. Apparently, she'd been seeing Kane for months while still engaged to Alexander. The betrayal was public, brutal, designed to cause maximum damage.
"Kane is reportedly attempting a hostile takeover of Sterling Industries," one business journal reported. "The marriage to Ashford, originally Sterling's fiancée, is seen as both personal and professional warfare."
Emma's hands were shaking by the time she reached the last page of results. Then she saw it—the article dated just two days ago.
"Victoria Ashford Returns to New York After Years Abroad"
Her blood went cold.
Socialite Victoria Ashford, known for her infamous jilting of billionaire Alexander Sterling five years ago, has returned to Manhattan. Sources say Ashford has ended her relationship with Dominic Kane and is looking to "reconnect with old friends."
When asked about Sterling's recent marriage to architect Emma Laurent, Ashford smiled and said, "I'm so happy for Alexander. I hope to meet his new wife very soon. I'm sure we'll have a lot to talk about."
Emma slammed the laptop shut, her heart racing.
Victoria was back. In New York. And she wanted to meet Emma.
This was bad. This was really, really bad.
Emma stood, paced her room, tried to process what she'd just learned. Alexander's coldness, his need for control, his absolute insistence on keeping emotions out of their arrangement—it all made horrible sense now.
He'd loved Victoria. Really loved her. And she'd destroyed him in the most public way possible.
No wonder he wanted a contract marriage. No wonder he needed everything spelled out in legal terms with a clear end date. The man was terrified of being vulnerable again.
Emma should knock on the connecting door. Should tell him what she'd found. Should ask him directly about Victoria's return.
But something stopped her. The look on his face when he'd said my past isn't part of our contract. The way his whole body had tensed at the mention of his ex's name. He wasn't ready to talk about this. Maybe he never would be.
Emma climbed into bed, but sleep was impossible. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw those photos—Alexander smiling at Victoria the way Emma wanted him to smile at her. Real. Unguarded. In love.
She was being ridiculous. This was a business arrangement. She wasn't supposed to care who he'd loved before. Wasn't supposed to feel this hot, sick jealousy at the thought of Victoria Ashford's perfect face and her casual cruelty.
But she did care. God help her, she cared.
Emma was still awake at 3 AM when her phone buzzed. Maya.
Can't sleep. You up?
Unfortunately, Emma typed back.
How was meeting the family?
Complicated. His sister hates me. His mother loves me too much. His father thinks I'm a gold digger. And I found out about the ex-fiancée who destroyed him.
Yikes. Want to talk about it?
Emma did. Desperately. But what would she even say? That she was developing real feelings for her contract husband? That the thought of his ex coming back made her want to scream? That this fake marriage was starting to feel more real than anything she'd experienced?
Tomorrow, she typed. I need to process first.
Okay. But Em? Be careful. I can hear it in your texts. You're falling for him.
I'm not—
Yes, you are. And I'm scared you're going to get hurt.
Emma stared at the message for a long time before responding.
So am I.
She set the phone aside and pulled the covers up to her chin, listening to the quiet sounds of the penthouse settling around her. Somewhere on the other side of the connecting door, Alexander was sleeping—or trying to. Was he dreaming about Victoria? About the wedding that never happened?
Did he ever dream about Emma?
She must have eventually drifted off, because when she woke, early morning light was streaming through the windows and the smell of coffee was drifting through her door.
Emma pulled on her robe and padded out to the kitchen. Alexander was already there, dressed for work in charcoal slacks and a white shirt, sleeves rolled up. He was reading something on his tablet, a cup of coffee in his other hand.
Another cup sat on the counter. Made exactly how she liked it—cream and sugar.
He'd noticed. He always noticed.
"Morning," Emma said, her voice still rough with sleep.
Alexander looked up, and something flickered in his expression when he saw her—hair messy, face makeup-free, wrapped in the plush robe. "Morning. There's toast if you want it. And I picked up those almond croissants you mentioned liking."
He'd gone out to get her croissants. While she'd been up all night reading about his ex-fiancée, he'd been thinking about what she liked for breakfast.
Emma's chest ached. "Thank you."
They ate in companionable silence, the kind of quiet that felt earned rather than awkward. Alexander kept glancing at her like he wanted to say something, but whatever it was stayed locked behind his carefully controlled expression.
Finally, he set down his coffee cup. "I have to fly to Boston today. Merger meetings. I'll be back tomorrow evening."
"Okay." Emma tried not to feel disappointed. This was normal. This was his life. "Will you need me for anything? Any events?"
"Not this trip. But Emma—" He hesitated, and she could see him choosing his words carefully. "About yesterday. About what Sophie said. She's wrong. About you, I mean. You're not going to get hurt. I won't let that happen."
"Alexander—"
"I mean it. This arrangement, it's clean. Defined. When it ends, we both walk away better than we started. That's the deal."
Emma heard what he wasn't saying: Don't fall for me. Don't expect more than what's in the contract. Don't break my carefully constructed walls.
Too late, she thought. Way too late.
But out loud, she just said, "I know. One hour at a time."
He nodded, relief crossing his features. "Exactly. One hour at a time."
He left twenty minutes later, and the penthouse felt cavernously empty without him. Emma threw herself into getting ready for her own day—she'd started at a small architecture firm the previous week, and the work was actually interesting. Challenging. The kind of projects that mattered.
Her phone buzzed as she was leaving. Unknown number.
Emma Sterling? This is Victoria Ashford. I got your number from Caroline—she's so sweet! I'd love to take you to lunch this week. Welcome you properly to the family. Wednesday at Le Bernardin? My treat. xx
Emma stared at the message, her stomach churning.
Victoria Ashford. The woman who'd broken Alexander's heart. The ghost he couldn't talk about. And she wanted to have lunch.
Emma should decline. Should tell Alexander. Should do anything except what she was about to do.
She typed back: Wednesday works. Looking forward to it.
Because if Victoria was back in New York, if she wanted to "reconnect with old friends," Emma needed to know what she was dealing with. Needed to understand the woman who'd turned Alexander Sterling into a man who could only love by contract.
And maybe, just maybe, needed to protect the heart he insisted he didn't have.
Even if protecting him meant walking straight into enemy territory.
Emma sent the message and immediately wanted to take it back.
But it was too late. Three dots appeared, then:
Perfect! Can't wait to meet the woman who finally tamed Alexander Sterling. See you Wednesday, darling. xx
Emma set her phone down with shaking hands.
What had she just done?
Her phone buzzed again. This time, it was Alexander.
Forgot to mention—my mother is planning a family dinner next Saturday. Just immediate family. Hope that's okay.
Emma typed back: Of course. Looking forward to it.
Another buzz: Thank you. For yesterday. For playing your part so well. My mother really likes you.
It wasn't all playing, Emma typed, then deleted it.
Instead, she wrote: She's lovely. Have a safe flight.
I will. And Emma?
Yes?
Three dots appeared and disappeared several times. Finally:
Nothing. See you tomorrow.
Emma pocketed her phone and headed out, her mind spinning with everything she'd learned in the last twelve hours. Victoria was back. Alexander was in Boston. And Emma had just agreed to have lunch with the woman who'd destroyed her husband's ability to trust.
This was either the bravest or stupidest thing she'd ever done.
Probably both.
But as she stepped into the elevator and watched the penthouse disappear above her, one thought crystallized with painful clarity:
She was falling for Alexander Sterling.
Falling for a man who'd built his entire life around never falling for anyone again.
And Victoria Ashford's return was about to test whether those walls were as impenetrable as Alexander believed.
Or whether Emma had already started to crack them without even trying.
One hour at a time, she reminded herself.
But some hours felt like walking into a minefield blindfolded.
And Wednesday was only two days away.