Chapter 494

Chapter 494:

“That’s what friends are for, darling. To burst your bubble when you get cocky and slap some sense into you when you’re being blind p>

I breathed in the night air, scented faintly with lilacs and wisteria. “Fine. I’ve not really been paying attention to the wedding. There, I said it. But it doesn’t mean I’m getting cold feet, all right p>

“You trying to convince me or yourself p>

My gaze drifted toward the street, and I paused.

A car had pulled up outside the building. Not Ashton’s red convertible, but it was definitely him stepping out of the front passenger seat.

Then the driver stepped out too.

A tall, curvy blonde in a fitted red dress that made it impossible to pretend she wasn’t stunning. Even from eight floors up. Even in bad lighting.

I couldn’t see her face properly, but the way she carried herself—the clothes, the heels, the way she moved—made it painfully clear she was the kind of woman who didn’t get ignored.

And right now, that goddess was wrapping her arms around Ashton’s waist and looking up at him like she was expecting a kiss.

“Hello? Mira? You still there?” Waine said through the phone. “Don’t tell me you’re playing the bad signal card again. You’re not in a tunnel. Don’t dodge the subject p>

“I’m not. I’ll call you back.” I hung up.

I didn’t know what possessed me, but I raised my phone and snapped a photo of Ashton and his mystery woman.

Something was off.

I knew it the moment I walked in.

Mira wasn’t curled up on the sofa binge-watching dramas or tucked in bed with her phone. She was sitting at her desk, back to me, staring at her computer. But the real giveaway was that she didn’t kiss me when I came through the door. That had become our thing since the engagement.

Exclusive updates available at gⱯlnσνeℓs․cøm

I bent down for a kiss.

She turned her face away.

“You smell like wine. Go shower, brush your teeth, get ready for bed. It’s late p>

“I had a couple of drinks,” I admitted.

She made a vague sound that meant absolutely nothing.

Even after I came out of the bathroom—freshly scrubbed, de-wined, and slightly hopeful—she was still at her desk.

“Aren’t you coming to bed? It’s nearly eleven.” I glanced at the screen. Not jewelry design software, just lines of numbers. “You’re reading financial reports now p>

She finally turned to face me. “About that… I’ve got a favor to ask p>

“Sure. And stop calling it a favor. You know I’d do anything for you. We’re married p>

“Are we, though p>

“What?” I pulled back.

Something was definitely wrong.

“Are we really married? I mean, in the eyes of the public p>

“The announcement went out weeks ago. Don’t make me dig out the certificates p>

I studied her face.

She was blinking too fast, biting her lower lip—she always did that when she was stressed or unsure.