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The server with a pencil pierced through her messy bun greeted us and gestured to a table in the corner.“I’m Lulu, and I’ll be back.”

Still looking annoyed, Nessa pulled out a chair, sat down, and grabbed the menu. I sat across from her, placed the yellow envelope on the table, and stared at her.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, even though I already knew.

She flicked me a look and placed her menu down. “I should be the one asking you that question. You barged into my studio, demanded lunch, and coerced a social media influencer to be outside my studio for photo ops.” She leaned into the table. “I thought we had a deal.”

“We do.”

“It’s not a deal if you’re doing things without telling me. You obviously have a plan. I need to know all the details. If I don’t, I might do something that would derail this marriage before it even happens.” She blew out a breath. “And please warn me the next time you have your ex involved in this. It’s weird.”

“Why is it weird? She has a wide reach that can help us.”

“Maybe it’s not strange to you, but it’s strange to me.” I rolled my eyes. “Especially when she still wants you.”

I studied Nessa. Initially, I thought her annoyance stemmed from my unexpected visit to her studio and the disruption it caused to her work. But now I wondered if her moodiness resulted from jealousy.

No, it couldn’t be. My attraction to her lived quietly within me. Was she also attracted to me?

This fake marriage had just gotten more complicated. However, I could be wrong about my assumption.

“Miranda doesn’t want me,” I said.

“Whatever you say,” Vanessa replied, dropping her gaze to the menu.

Lulu returned, beamed, and asked, “Do you need a few more minutes?”

“Yes,” we both said simultaneously.

Lulu nodded. “Take your time.”

“Do you know Miranda?” I asked.

Vanessa lowered her menu. “It’s not important.”

“It’s damn important if it’s causing a rift between us.”

“I know her, but she doesn’t remember me.” She huffed out a breath. “And that’s all I’m going to say about this topic.”

I had to find out, but not today. I didn’t know why I felt the need to explain. “We only dated for a few months. Nothing serious. Besides, that was two years ago.”

“It’s serious enough that she’s still attracted to you.”

I wasn’t going to win this war. “How do you know?”

“I can tell, Attikus.” She leaned into the table again.

I did the same and clasped her hands in mine. “How?”

“A woman just knows. I can sense it.”

“Really?” I rubbed a thumb over her hand. “What else can you sense?”

“That you have an intricate plan, and you’re not sharing it with me.”

That wasn’t the answer I was hoping for. I wanted her to admit she was jealous. I wanted her to ask more about my relationships.

You value your privacy. Why are you asking for trouble?