Chapter 5 - The Real Forever
The next morning, the sun rose over the Hudson River, flooding the Tribeca penthouse with brilliant, golden morning light.
There was no cold Chinese food in a cardboard box. There were no bitter tears shed over wedding photographs posted by a cheating ex-husband.
Instead, I sat at the marble kitchen island drinking artisanal coffee while my phone buzzed incessantly on the counter.
It was a text message from an unknown number.
Ryan: Mia... please. Can we talk? I saw the photos from the Met Gala. We need to catch up.
I looked at the screen, then at the trash can where I had effortlessly tossed my old life weeks ago. I didn't feel anger. I didn't feel the burning need for revenge anymore. I felt lighter than air, entirely unburdened by the past.
I blocked the number without a second thought.
Footsteps echoed softly on the hardwood floor behind me. Strong, warm arms wrapped around my waist from behind, and Julian rested his chin on my shoulder, looking down at my phone screen before I could lock it.
“Trouble?” he asked, his voice a low, gravelly rumble against my neck.
“Just spam,” I murmured, leaning back into the solid warmth of his chest. I turned my head and kissed his jaw. “Ryan sent a text.”
Julian’s grip tightened possessively around me, a dark flash of protective possessiveness crossing his features. “Do I need to ruin his company's marketing contracts?”
“Only if you want to be excessively dramatic,” I laughed, setting my coffee cup down and turning around in his arms to wrap my hands around his neck. “Though considering you waited four years just to trap me in a fake marriage contract, I suppose dramatic is your default setting.”
“It worked, didn't it?” Julian murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips before rising back to meet my eyes with absolute, unwavering devotion.
“It definitely beat eating lo mein for breakfast,” I whispered.
May you like
Julian pulled me flush against him, sealing the distance between us with a deep, slow, breathtaking kiss that swept away every remaining shadow of the past.
We didn't need a fairy tale. We had something much better: a four-billion-dollar empire, a lifetime of Manhattan sunsets, and a contract that had no expiration date at all.
