Chapter 9

NINE

AURORA

Morning came and I found Foster’s arm possessively wrapped around my middle. Wrapped up in this gorgeous man, I felt like I was in a safe cocoon. It was like I was living someone else’s life.

My bladder urged me to get out of bed.

My heart urged me to stay.

I couldn’t believe how amazing it felt to finally do what I wanted, to say yes to myself, and to contentment. All it took was a surprise marriage to show me what my life could be.

We still had eleven days before Foster was supposed to sign the annulment. I would gladly enjoy our time together until then.

Maybe I’d even ease up on the pranks in the meantime. No way was I easing up on Codename Hot Pursuit. That one was serving me very well, just ask the pleasant soreness in my thighs.

And then after?

Would we go our separate ways? That’s what I wanted, wasn’t it?

I realized now that I’d given him the chance, I actually liked my fake husband.

It wasn’t just the amazing sex, either. It was the way he played along and took my pranks in stride. It was the ease that fell between us in conversation and in action when we both let it. Foster was fun.

What happened after he signed was a problem for later. I had plenty of time to think things through, plenty of time to find a job, too, before I was out in the wilderness fending for myself again. The thought caught in my throat. I almost choked on it.

The problem for now—I still really had to pee.

I climbed out of bed, did my business, and headed to the kitchen where I started up the coffee machine that my husband bought just for me. The gift didn’t feel frustrating this morning.

I put in a pod that my husband bought just for me.

I cracked open the box of muffins that my husband bought just for me.

These weren’t gestures a person did when they hated someone, even a little. These were the sweet kinds of things a person did when they cared.

If not for Foster and his marriage bargain, I wouldn’t have a roof over my head while I searched for a new job. I wouldn’t have the little luxuries that made me smile even when my life had gone so wrong.

I took a bite of my lemon poppyseed muffin, letting the happy flavors dance across my tongue.

Today, I’d thank him.

Today, we’d begin our fresh start as friends-with-benefits instead of enemies sexily drawn to one another. Maybe there was a chance that we could be more.

A ding drew my attention to the counter, where Foster’s phone was plugged into the wall.

Another ding.

Then another.

Whoever was texting him—it must be urgent.

I unplugged his phone to take it to him. That’s what sex friends with a side of fake marriage did, right?

But the screen lit up with another message. I realized the notification wasn’t a text, but an untraceable messaging app.

One word was on the screen.

I froze.

Shard.

My stomach churned.

It was wrong to read someone else’s messages.

It was wrong to question the man who’d shown me nothing but kindness despite the ways I’d tormented him.

He was probably looking into the whole exhibition debacle on my behalf, because he was a lawyer, because he cared.

I had run into him on North Pole Island on the night my whole life was thrown into a maelstrom. But it had to be a coincidence that Foster and Shard were there at the same time. Foster had been there to do a favor for someone, not for work.

I took another step toward the bedroom, willing myself not to look. The screen went black, making it easier.

But another text lit up the screen and I couldn’t look away.

I love your artwork. I can’t wait to….

A wave of nausea hit. My stomach churned.

The rest of the text was hidden behind the screen lock. It didn’t matter, I’d seen enough.

Chaotic thoughts collided together. My head reeled.

This couldn’t be happening.

Foster could never be Shard.

I raced into the bedroom and slammed the phone down on the pillow beside his head.

His eyes shot open—midnight blue orbs crinkled with confusion and concern.

“Tell me it’s not true.” My ribs grew tighter, crushing my lungs. “Tell me you’re not Shard.”

He sat upright in the bed, letting the blankets fall to his lap.

I waited for him to explain how I’d misinterpreted the message. I waited for him to fix this so we could laugh off my confusion, laugh off this horrible situation that absolutely could not be happening.

He hunched his shoulders. The color drained from his face. He tightened his jaw and furrowed his brows.

And he dropped his gaze to his hands in shame.

It was true.

He couldn’t even look at me.

Foster was Shard. He’d pretended he wanted to help me. He pretended we had a connection when secretly he was lying to me this whole time. Nothing that had happened between us was real.

Who even was this man I’d thought I knew?

He looked at me, pain in his dark eyes. Was the pain from regret that I’d figured him out? Or maybe his reaction now was as fake as everything else.

I didn’t know him at all.

“It didn’t happen how you think,” he said.

There was nothing he could say that would change anything.

Foster was a liar, a manipulator, a betrayer.

“I was going to tell you,” he said.

I wanted to ask him when, but I held my tongue.

My vision blurred with unshed tears as I stared at the man I’d let myself fall for. I blinked rapidly, praying that when I opened my eyes, everything would be back to the way it was an hour ago. But it wasn't. It never would be.

I needed to be anywhere but here.

I couldn’t stand looking at him.

“You ruined my life,” I said.

“I’m sorry I hurt you. I never meant to.”

I tried to breathe as I gathered my things. No way was I going to leave a reason to come back here ever again.

“You did this,” I said. “You knew what you did to me. You knew how much your actions hurt me. And you actively chose not to tell me who you were.”

I felt him following me as I went into the bathroom and threw my toiletries into my bag.

In the mirror, I caught him pressing his lips together.

“I screwed up,” he said. “But I didn’t ruin your life. It was a misunderstanding. I was supposed to paint on those canvases. It was a collaboration set up by Bertram.”

His words hit like a punch to the gut. All the air whooshed from my chest, leaving only fire to fill my lungs.

“Everything you say is a lie.” The tears began to fall. I couldn’t hold them back. My whole body trembled. “I can’t trust you.”

He flexed his fingers into fists, but he said nothing.

I went to pass him, but he stood in the doorway.

“I should have told you. I wanted to. I was trying to fix it first. I would never purposefully hurt you.” His voice was pleading, his expression devastated. “I love you, Aurora.”

Those three little words.

If he’d said them an hour ago, maybe I’d have been tempted to say them back. Now, all they did was stab another dagger into the remains of my obliterated heart.

“I hate you,” I said. “Move.”

He stepped aside.

I hurried out of the penthouse and didn’t look back.