Page 58

Goals. Tasks. Concrete things I can assess, measure, attain. This is what I excel at. Not emotions or social engagements or marriage. This whole mess also proves that the philosophy I’ve lived my life by is accurate; alone is best.
I reach the other side of the street.
It’s time to remind her what she has to lose, both with her flagrant affair and her ridiculous request.
Tessa glances my way as the man releases her, then does a double take. Her eyes widen, but there’s no panic or shame in the golden-brown depths. Just surprise. Anger jolts through me at her lack of remorse.
“Bonjour, Mrs. Drakos.”
Her lips thin into a tight line. “Hello, Rafael.”
Touché. I despise my full name, and she knows it. I also despise how I have to intentionally bite back a smirk of admiration.
“Is this your husband?”
I turn my attention to the blond buffoon who’s looking back and forth between us like he’s at a damn tennis match.
Cold anger fuels my next words. “I am.”
Instead of turning and running like any sensible man would when confronted with their lover’s spouse, the idiot reaches out and grabs my hand.
“It’s great to meet you. Your wife is amazing. Just amazing.”
He’s gushing like an overexcited teenager. Annoying as it is, it gives me a moment to reassess the situation. I’m not sure what I witnessed on the sidewalk. But a tender embrace between lovers seems less likely given his enthusiasm.
I pull my hand out of the man’s clammy grasp. “I think so, too.”
Tessa’s quiet snort surprises me, as does the arched look she gives me when I glance down at her.
“I don’t even know if I’d be doing this without her,” the man continues, seemingly oblivious to the tension between Tessa and me. “I thought about the Eiffel Tower, but Tess thought the gardens were better, and they really are.”
Theos, does the man ever shut up?
“She even helped me pick out the ring.”
The pressure in my chest eases as I realize Tessa is helping this man propose to someone else. A pressure that surges back seconds later as I glance down and realize Tessa’s left hand is bare.
I think back to my brother Gavriil’s wedding. Our one interaction was brief. I never looked at her hands. How long has she not been wearing her ring?
It shouldn’t matter. But it does. Another symbol of her intention to break our agreement.
Our eyes meet. Pink suffuses her cheeks, but she doesn’t look away. I pointedly glance down at my hand and the silver ring glinting in the last rays of sun streaming down the street. She follows my gaze, her nose wrinkling in a frown when she sees the ring.
“God, sorry.” The man shoots me an embarrassed smile. “I’m Nathan. Nathan Jones. Katie’s boyfriend.”
The last puzzle piece falls into place. Katie, Tessa’s sister, also disappeared the night of our wedding. I struggle to contain my irritation. It had taken just one phone call to find out Katie had accompanied Tessa to Paris. My sister-in-law was not in my good graces.
“Hopefully fiancé before the night’s out.” The smile Tessa gives Nathan pokes at me like an irritating insect. “Which speaking of, you’re going to be late if you don’t get going.”
Nathan glances at his watch and swears. “Off I go!” He kisses Tessa’s cheek again, pumps my hand before I can step back. “Nice to meet you, Rafael.” He’s gone before I can correct him.
Leaving me alone on the sidewalk with my wife, who’s biting down on the insides of her cheeks to keep from laughing.
“You couldn’t have corrected him?” I narrow my eyes at her. “You know I despise Rafael.”
“It’s an elegant name,” she counters.
I never realized the sharp disparity in our height before. Gavriil’s wedding was a blur, one where I fought dual demons of trying to crack my heart open just enough to stop my brother from rushing into a marriage of convenience with his sworn enemy while keeping my distance from Tessa. Simply seeing her had unsettled me. Given that I had just tried to have a heart-to-heart with Gavriil for the first time ever, I needed time to retreat and stitch myself back together. But that had meant a quick greeting from several feet away.