Chapter 1: Her Boyfriend Has a Girlfriend
Katerina Morley had been Alaric Harlow's secret for years.
Then, finally, he made her a promise: on her twenty-fifth birthday, he would make them official. Public. Real.
Five days. She had five days left to wait.
She'd been savoring every one of them.
She never got to see him keep that promise. What she got instead was the sight of Alaric tangled up with her stepsister.
She picked up her phone before she'd even finished processing what she'd seen.
"Mom." Her voice was steady. "I'll do the arranged marriage. I'm ready to sign the paperwork today."
She was out of Alaric's place before the day was over. By nightfall, she'd married his worst enemy.
******
"Kat, my uncle's got a girlfriend!"
Katerina was still coming down from the anesthesia when her best friend Magnolia Harlow's call came through. She'd just had an emergency appendectomy, and the world still had soft, blurred edges.
Magnolia was Alaric's niece. She'd always called him uncle.
In the beginning, Katerina had called him that too — just following Magnolia's lead. But once she and Alaric got together, the word stopped fitting. She stopped using it.
Magnolia still had no idea they'd been together for years. Alaric had made sure of that. He'd forbidden Katerina from telling anyone. They were a secret. No one knew.
Katerina pushed herself upright against the hospital pillows, ignoring the pull of pain low on her right side. Had Alaric finally told his family about them? Was this it — the beginning of going public?
Maybe he'd decided not to wait for her birthday after all.
She'd been quietly stewing because he hadn't answered any of her messages before she went into surgery. Now the sting of that faded a little.
She opened her mouth, guilt already creeping in. "Maggie, I — "
"You're his secretary, you must've known." Magnolia didn't let her finish. "He's been single forever, and it turns out he was just waiting for her the whole time. Can you believe it? He and Genevieve Prescott are together!"
The name hit her like a door swung into her face.
Genevieve Prescott.
"I really can't stand her, honestly," Magnolia went on, voice dropping into a familiar complaining tone. "She's so dramatic, always performing. I have no idea what my uncle sees in her."
A moment ago Katerina had been terrified of being found out. Now she sat very still, the fear replaced by something colder. Because the girlfriend Magnolia was describing wasn't her.
The incision throbbed. She pressed her lips together and pushed through it. "Maggie — are you sure? Could you have gotten it wrong?"
He had held her every night before he left the country. How did someone go from that to someone else?
Magnolia made a sharp, dismissive sound. "I'm looking right at them. We're on the same ski trip."
A photo came through a second later.
"Look at them. He's warming her hands. He kissed her right in front of me."
Alaric had told Katerina to wait five days. Five days until her birthday, and he would finally let the world know she existed.
Instead, she was in a hospital bed with a fresh surgical wound, watching him kiss someone else.
Genevieve wasn't a stranger. They didn't share blood, but they shared a household — after Katerina's father died, her mother had remarried into the Prescott family. Genevieve was her stepsister.
Katerina's whole body had started to shake.
"You know what's funny?" Magnolia said. "Genevieve kind of looks like you. If my uncle has a type and it's basically you, he might as well just date you — I'd actually be thrilled."
Katerina closed her eyes.
She made an excuse and ended the call. Then she looked at her phone, and there it was — a new post from Genevieve on Twitter.
【My personal trainer. 😊】
The photo was the same one Magnolia had sent her.
Three years. Katerina had spent three years with Alaric and he'd never once let her put a photo of them anywhere. Every time she asked, he had a reason. She'd believed every single one.
She understood now. It was never about the photos.
In the image, Alaric wasn't looking at the camera. His eyes were on Genevieve — low, soft, full of something Katerina had thought was hers.
A new comment loaded beneath the post.
【Alaric Harlow: My Princess Ginny. 】
She stared at the username. His account. She'd never known he even had one.
She clicked through to his profile, and the scroll killed her one post at a time.
Valentine's Day. Christmas. New Year's.
Every late night. Every business trip. Every time he'd said he was stuck at the office.
All of it. Every single absence — he'd spent it with Genevieve.
Each word on the screen was a blade, and she just kept scrolling.
The cold seeped into her bones until breathing hurt.
So that was what she'd been. A stand-in. A placeholder for her own stepsister.
Enough.
She pulled up her messages and typed to her mother, Isadora Langford.
【Mom. I'll do the arranged marriage.】
Isadora, who was never warm, who had barely spoken to her in years — she replied almost instantly.
【Good. I'm sending you the address. Go meet him now.】
A short, bitter sound escaped Katerina's throat. Of course. Her mother couldn't wait to trade her away for the right connection.
She waited until her IV drip finished, then flagged down a car and gave the driver the restaurant address.
—
Alaric and Genevieve had come in from the slopes when he noticed the missed calls from Katerina — several of them. He frowned and was about to call her back when Genevieve's voice pulled him around.
"Alaric, my boots are soaked through!"
He locked his phone. The frown smoothed into something easy and warm. "Hold on, sit down. I've got it."
Katerina was home, safe. Whatever it was could wait.
Chapter 2 "How About We Get Married Right Now?"
Isadora Langford was never going to arrange a good match for Katerina Morley.
After her mother remarried, every scrap of warmth went to Genevieve Prescott. Katerina had long since made peace with that.
She took a slow breath and pushed open the door to the private room — and stopped.
This was Young Master Clifton?
The man stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, phone to his ear. Nearly six-three, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, one hand tucked lazily in his pocket. When the door opened, those cold dark eyes slid toward her without urgency — just a flicker of surprise, one sharp brow lifting the slightest bit.
She had to admit it: the Clifton family's son had a face that had absolutely nothing wrong with it.
Katerina pressed her lips together, let the door close behind her, and pulled out the chair across from him. She sat and waited for him to finish his call.
He hung up and turned around, settling into his seat with a look that said her presence genuinely puzzled him. "You're here because..."
"My name is Katerina Morley. I'm here for the arranged marriage. If you agree, we can get married immediately."
Alaric Harlow's cruelty had taught her everything she needed to know about men.
Marriage was marriage. It didn't matter who the man was — love was never part of the equation anyway.
The corner of his mouth curved up, his confusion somehow deepening. "Married?" he asked, like the word amused him.
She steadied herself. "Obviously. An arranged marriage exists for one reason — to actually get married. I don't care what you do outside. But if you get someone pregnant, don't expect me to play stepmother. The best I'll do is look the other way."
"What I'd prefer is a one-year arrangement. I play the role of your wife for twelve months, and when the year is up, we go our separate ways."
"Don't worry — since this is arranged, I have no interest in your family's money. You can have a prenup drawn up if you want. I'm fine signing whatever agreement makes you comfortable. Does that work for you?"
She felt she'd been more than reasonable.
Word was that this Clifton heir was a notorious playboy — not particularly good-looking, apparently, but generous with women. Yet the man in front of her was clearly, undeniably handsome. The rumors had clearly missed the mark.
Then again, a man who looked like this would have women lining up regardless. A wandering eye made sense.
He studied her with dark, probing eyes, and her heart gave a small, startled lurch.
"Sure," he said. His voice was lazy, faintly rough at the edges. "It's still early. How about we go get that marriage license right now?"
******
At five-thirty, Katerina walked out of city hall with the man and a marriage certificate in her hand.
She didn't even look at it — just shoved it into her bag. It still didn't feel real.
That was it? They were married? That was fast...
He was watching her, a faint smile at the corner of his mouth. "Second thoughts?"
"None." She shook her head. "I have somewhere to be. I'll head out."
"Hold on." He reached out to stop her. "What's your number?"
Fair enough.
They were husband and wife now. Not exchanging numbers would be a little ridiculous.
She recited her number. He called it.
She realized she hadn't looked at his name on the certificate.
"Royce," he said.
She nodded. "Okay. So — back to our own places for now?"
She needed to get to Alaric's apartment and move her things out.
Royce Dalton gave a slight nod, his tone even. "Need a ride?"
"No, I'll grab a car. I'm fine."
They went their separate ways. A few minutes later, a WhatsApp contact request landed on Katerina's phone from her brand-new husband.
The note he'd attached was blunt: Your husband.
Warmth crept into her cheeks. She accepted it without thinking.
When it came time to add his contact name, she paused — then typed: Husband.
They'd agreed to play the part of a loving couple for a year. He'd gotten her out of a corner, and she'd hold up her end of the deal. A contact name was nothing.
Alaric Harlow, pinned at the top of her chats for three years, still hadn't called.
She let out a short, self-mocking laugh, unpinned his contact, and blocked him.
******
Katerina turned the marriage certificate over in her hands and called her mother.
"Mom. I'll get married — on your terms. But I want every share of the hotel Dad left in his name, and Genevieve needs to move out of Bellemont Villa."
The hotel had been her father's. Her mother had been managing it since his death. Bellemont Villa was the small house her parents had shared when they first married — every memory Katerina had of her childhood lived inside those walls. After her mother remarried into the Prescott family, she'd handed it over to Genevieve, who had filled it with her own things.
Every last piece of her father's that remained in that house — Katerina was taking it back.
"Kat." Isadora's voice went tight. "Don't you think you're being a little greedy?"
Katerina's laugh was soft. "Mom, Dad's estate was left to both me and Grandma. It's all been in your hands. How is asking for what's mine being greedy?"
Isadora's tone shifted. "Once your engagement to the Clifton family is official, I'll transfer everything. You have my word."
Katerina hung up. She wasn't afraid of her mother backing out.
If Isadora tried, Katerina would divorce her brand-new husband without a second's hesitation.
Chapter 3 Moving Out
Royce Dalton pulled up to the family estate in his flashy Bugatti.
He barely made it through the front door before his father, Edmond Dalton, was in his face, expression locked and loaded. "Royce Dalton! You are getting married before the end of this year!"
The Dalton family had roots in the military, generations of officers before the family pivoted to business and built what was now a sprawling empire. Dalton Group had its hands in real estate, tech, finance, healthcare — you name it.
"That Harlow boy," Edmond said. "Alaric Harlow. Word is he's already arranging a marriage alliance with the Prescott girl — Genevieve. So what about you?"
The Daltons and the Harlows had been at each other's throats for as long as anyone could remember. They competed over everything — whose portfolio was bigger, whose family was larger, and now, apparently, whose son would make it to the altar first.
Royce smiled, lazy and amused. "Already done, actually. Just happened. Marriage certificate is still warm — want to see it?"
Edmond's expression shifted. "Done?" His eyes went wide. "Show me."
Royce handed it over.
Edmond turned it over in his hands, skeptical. "You didn't fake this just to mess with me, did you?"
"I'm not that bored. Don't believe me? I'll bring your daughter-in-law by sometime."
Edmond studied the photo in the certificate and gave a slow nod. "She's beautiful. You're out of your league."
Royce's smile took on a knowing edge. "Then you'd better make a good impression when you meet her, Dad. Can't have her getting scared off."
He kept that thought to himself, though — the other part of it. The part where he wondered when exactly Katerina Morley would figure out she'd married the wrong man. That her arranged marriage partner was never him to begin with.
He almost looked forward to seeing her face when she realized it.
******
Katerina Morley wheeled two suitcases out of Alaric Harlow's villa. The housekeeper was just coming back from the market and stopped short at the sight of her.
"Ms. Morley, are you heading out on a work trip?"
Katerina smiled. "Something like that."
"Oh, and I just bought groceries too. Send me a message when you're back and I'll cook all your favorites."
Back.
She smiled again, softer this time. There would be a new woman running this house soon enough. She wouldn't be coming back.
"Thank you," she said. "Take care of yourself."
The housekeeper watched her go, a vague unease settling in her chest. Something felt off, though she couldn't have said what exactly.
When she went inside, she noticed it — things were missing. Decorative pieces, small personal touches, gone. She climbed to the second-floor walk-in closet and pulled the doors open. The clothes were still there, at least.
What she didn't know was that everything Katerina had left behind were gifts from Alaric. She hadn't taken a single one of them. Everything she'd packed was hers — bought with her own money, belonging only to her.
The unease was enough that the housekeeper picked up the phone and called her employer in Switzerland. "Mr. Harlow, Ms. Morley came by today and took quite a few things with her."
Alaric went still. A small frown crossed his face. "Where did she go?"
"She said a work trip. Just a few days."
A work trip. He was out of the country. She was his personal secretary. Where exactly was she supposed to be going?
He was reaching for his phone to message her when he heard Genevieve Prescott cry out from the kitchen.
He set the phone down and went to her.
"What happened, Genevieve?"
She was holding her finger, a small cut bleeding from where the knife had slipped while she was cutting fruit. Her expression was sheepish. "Alaric, I'm so clumsy. I just wanted to cut something for you."
He grabbed the first aid kit and wrapped her finger himself, then touched the top of her head with the kind of fond exasperation reserved for someone you adore. "I love that about you."
She ducked her head, a shy pout on her lips. "That's mean..."
Then, softly: "Alaric, when we fly home tomorrow — can I invite my sister?"
He knew exactly who she meant. Katerina Morley was Genevieve's sister in name only, and he was well aware of that distinction.
"I thought things between you two weren't great."
Genevieve looked up at him, eyes bright and earnest. "They're not. That's exactly why I want to try. Things between Mom and my sister have been tense because of me — I want to do something about that."
Alaric smiled at her, warm and indulgent. "You're too kind, Genevieve. Let's hold off on that for now — when we land tomorrow, I want to throw you a welcome-home dinner first."
Her eyes dimmed, just for a moment. "Okay."
She'd always known. Katerina was nothing more than a stand-in — a placeholder while she was abroad. Once, she'd caught a message thread on Alaric's phone and understood immediately that the two of them had been seeing each other in secret. After that, it hadn't taken much. A little effort on her part, and Alaric was flying out to see her.
The post she'd put up on Twitter two days ago? That was deliberate.
Tomorrow, the real one was coming home. Which meant the substitute was done.
******
The next morning, Katerina went to the office to hand everything over.
Mandy looked at her with genuine regret. "Kat, are you sure you won't reconsider? If it's about compensation, I can go to bat for you."
Go to bat with who — Alaric Harlow? Katerina almost laughed.
"Mandy, it's not that. It's personal."
Katerina was the only woman among all of Alaric's secretaries. Every female candidate who'd come through before her had come with an agenda — angling for something more — and one by one, Alaric had turned them away. Katerina was the one who stayed. She was careful, quick on her feet, and handled every detail without having to be asked twice. Mandy, as Alaric's executive assistant, had come to rely on her more than she let on.
She was sharp, she knew her place, and she never overstepped. Mandy respected that. But she wasn't going to force anyone's hand.
"All right. I'll approve your resignation on my end. Whether Mr. Harlow signs off on it — that'll have to wait until he's back from this trip."
Katerina nodded.
Chapter 4 "Who Told You We Were Ever Together?"
Katerina Morley slipped into the break room for a cup of water and walked straight into the middle of an HR gossip session.
"Oh my God, did you hear? Mr. Harlow didn't actually go on a business trip — he went to bring his girlfriend back!"
"Seriously? I thought Mr. Harlow wasn't into women like that. I've worked here for years and never heard a single rumor about him."
"Please. The Harlow family and the Prescott family arranged this whole thing ages ago. Our Mr. Harlow's just been waiting for her to finish school and turn eighteen."
Katerina didn't notice that she'd missed the spout entirely. Boiling water poured straight over the back of her hand.
"Sss—"
She yanked her hand back. A wide patch of angry red bloomed across her skin, and the pain bit deep.
"Oh God, Kat, how are you so clumsy? Go run it under cold water, now!" someone said, noticing her hand.
Katerina gave a small nod. "Yeah. I'm going."
She stood at the bathroom sink with cold water running over the burn, the conversation replaying in her head while something sour and heavy settled in her chest.
So he and Genevieve Prescott were already at the talking-about-marriage stage. And she had been sitting here like an idiot, waiting for him to tell the world she was his girlfriend.
Her phone lit up on the edge of the sink. A message from her best friend, Magnolia Harlow.
[Kat, my uncle's throwing a welcome-back dinner tonight for his girlfriend. I really don't want to go alone. Come with me?]
Katerina blinked back the sting in her eyes. So he was already back in the country.
[Can't, Maggie. I have to work late.]
******
She was getting ready for bed early that night when Mandy called in a panic.
"Kat, I'm so sorry to do this. My daughter's running a fever, but there's a document that has to get to Mr. Harlow tonight — it needs his signature. Are you anywhere near the office? I'll owe you huge, I promise."
There was no saying no to that. "It's fine, Mandy. I'll head in now and pick it up."
Document in hand, Katerina made her way to the private dining room where Alaric Harlow was hosting Genevieve Prescott's welcome-back dinner. She stopped just outside the door. Then, after a moment, she walked up to it anyway.
It was half-open. Laughter and voices spilled out into the hallway.
"Genevieve, now that you're back for good, you and Alaric are going to start talking about the wedding, right? He's so much older than you — practically your uncle's age — can you really see yourself with him?"
Inside, Alaric was lounging in his chair with that effortless, untouchable ease of his, one arm draped over the back of Genevieve's seat like he owned every inch of the space around her.
Genevieve poked him in the side and buried her face behind her hands. "Stop it! Alaric, they're all laughing at me!"
Alaric glanced down at her, a quiet smile on his lips. "Nobody's laughing. Unless — you don't want to?"
Out in the hallway, every muscle in Katerina's body locked up.
That part of her heart she'd worked so hard to numb — she felt it get cut open again.
She raised her hand and knocked.
"Yeah? Who is it?" Someone turned around.
Katerina pushed the door open and walked in, one steady step at a time, until she was looking straight at him.
"Mr. Harlow. This document is time-sensitive. I need you to sign it now."
One of the guys at the table leaned back with a lazy grin. "Well, well. Alaric, is this your secretary? Way too pretty to be stuck fetching paperwork."
The way he looked at her made her stomach turn.
Alaric's dark eyes sharpened for just a fraction of a second — like he hadn't expected her to be the one walking through that door. Then the moment passed, and his expression went smooth and indifferent. "Come here. Give it to me."
Katerina held the document out. He signed it with a few clean, decisive strokes, not the least bit rattled, and handed it back without looking up. "Take it and go."
Genevieve had been watching Katerina the whole time. Now she tilted her head and spoke up, her voice soft and sweet. "Alaric, why don't you let her stay and hang out with us?"
She was already smiling when she reached over and wrapped her hand around Katerina's — right over the burn.
"It's been so long, hasn't it? Stay and have fun with us."
The pain was white-hot. Katerina's eyes went glassy before she could stop it, and she wrenched her hand away.
"Don't touch me. You guys enjoy yourselves. I'm going back to the office."
The room went quiet.
Alaric's brow drew together. His voice dropped. "Genevieve was just being friendly. What is your problem? Apologize."
Katerina pressed her fingernail into her palm — hard — and held herself together. "I have nothing to apologize for. If that's grounds for termination, Mr. Harlow, then so be it."
She walked out. One more second in that room and she was going to fall apart completely.
Alaric felt something unnamed and irritating twist in his chest. He stood and said to the table, "Give me a minute," and followed her out before anyone could respond.
The room exchanged glances.
"Looks like that little secretary of his is in trouble," someone said, smoothing things over with a laugh. "But Genevieve — why were you calling her 'sis'?"
Genevieve gave a short, hollow smile and didn't bother answering. Her eyes stayed fixed on the hallway where they'd both disappeared, cold and unreadable.
Out in the corridor.
"Katerina Morley. Stop." Alaric caught her by the arm from behind.
She made herself look calm. "Is there something else you need, Mr. Harlow? You've been out here a while. I'd hate for your girlfriend to get the wrong idea."
Something in his expression shifted. "I've told you before — don't call me that when it's just us. Your hand. What happened to it?"
So he had noticed.
Katerina let out a short, humorless laugh. "Not your concern. We broke up, didn't we?"
"Broke up?" A cold, contemptuous smile crossed his face. His voice went flat. "Who told you we were ever together?"
Chapter 5 "Alaric Harlow, I'm Going Home to Get Married."
A sharp, searing pain radiated from her chest and spread through every inch of her body. Katerina Morley bit down hard on her lip. "I understand. Don't worry — after this, we're nothing to each other."
Alaric Harlow's expression darkened. Those words landed wrong, stoking a slow, simmering fury. "What did you just say? Nothing?"
She didn't answer. She turned and walked away. He lifted his foot to follow — and then Genevieve Prescott's soft, lilting voice floated out from behind him. "Alaric... aren't you coming back in?"
He drew a slow breath. Turned. Smiled. "Coming, Genevieve."
That was it. The last wall inside Katerina crumbled, and the tears she'd been choking back broke free all at once.
She stood outside the hotel, her back against a stone pillar, too drained to hold herself upright. Her shoulders trembled. She didn't notice the shadow drifting toward her until it was already there.
A hand pressed against the pillar beside her. He leaned in close, and a low, lazy voice murmured right at her ear. "Looks like my wife just got her heart broken."
The night was dim. Royce Dalton crouched beside her with an easy, unhurried slouch, one hand braced against the pillar. He tilted his head and brought his ear close to her lips, waiting.
Katerina stiffened. Her brand-new husband had appeared out of nowhere, and the awkwardness of it cut right through her misery. She couldn't cry — not now — but she couldn't stop the small, hitching sobs either. Her nose scrunched with each one, a little pathetic, a little unbearably cute.
She sniffled hard, voice thick, and redirected. "What are you doing here?"
Royce's dark eyes glinted. A slow, careless grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "What else? I saw a beautiful woman crying and couldn't walk past. Had to find out who hurt her that badly." He stretched the words out, utterly unhurried. "Didn't expect it to be mine."
Katerina's brows pulled together. She fixed him with a sharp, guarded look. "Mr. Dalton, please keep your distance. This is an arranged alliance between our families. We barely know each other."
Silence fell.
Royce stepped back, just one easy pace. Those ink-dark, bedroom eyes narrowed slightly. "Arranged or not," he said, "you're still my wife."
He clicked open his ridiculous purple Bugatti and crooked a finger at her. "Get in. Where do you need to go?"
Katerina pressed her lips together. Whatever faint, bruised feeling had been sitting in her chest a moment ago — it was gone now. "I'm fine, thanks."
A soft click of his tongue. "Come on. I'd rather not be all over the news tomorrow because my wife was spotted crying over another man. That would put me in a bad mood."
She had no real argument against that. And she was in no state to be alone with her thoughts on a street corner. She got in.
She'd never been in a car like this. Alaric was steady, deliberate — he drove sedans and SUVs. He had a sports car or two in his garage, of course, but that was never a world Katerina had been allowed into.
She turned her face to the window. Royce caught a glimpse of her in his peripheral vision — those eyes still wet, the corners still faintly red.
"Heartbreak?" This time the teasing was gone from his voice. He sounded almost genuine.
Katerina glanced at him. Her gaze drifted briefly to the tattoo peeking out along his collarbone before she looked away. "Something like that. But don't worry — he's already my ex. He won't cause any problems for you." She kept her tone even. "And we agreed, remember? We don't interfere in each other's lives. You can date whoever you want, fall for whoever you want. I don't care."
Not that the Dalton family's youngest had ever needed permission. His reputation preceded him by a mile.
Royce pulled up in front of her apartment building. "An hour enough for you? Pack what you need and come home with me."
"Home?" she repeated.
"Unless you want to live separately."
Oh. That home. Katerina blinked. "There's no rush. We should wait until our families have met. I can move after that."
The shares hadn't transferred yet. She wasn't in any hurry.
Royce pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek. "Fine. Up to you."
She stepped out of the car, and the ostentatious purple streak of it vanished from sight almost immediately.
She stared after it.
Was he annoyed?
******
At eleven o'clock, Alaric's driver brought him back to the villa.
The Clearwater Cove villa — the place he'd set up for Katerina. He hadn't specified this destination, but the driver had brought him here all the same. The entryway light was on.
He tugged at his tie and called out her name on instinct. "Kat. Make me some hangover tea."
Nothing. The villa swallowed his words and gave back only silence.
Right. He'd driven her off tonight.
He dropped onto the sofa and draped an arm over his eyes. A moment later, he heard footsteps, and a small smile touched his lips.
No matter how harsh she got, she couldn't stay away. She'd be right here, same as always, waiting for him to come home.
He lifted his gaze — and his expression went cold. "Why is it you?"
The housekeeper faltered. "Sir, of course it's me. Ms. Morley is on a work trip, she hasn't come back yet. I heard you come in, so I thought — sir, you've been drinking. Let me make you some tea."
Alaric made a short, dismissive sound. Work trip. She'd been at that hotel causing a scene not two hours ago. She was sulking, nothing more.
In a day or two she'd show up saying she'd been wrong, asking him to forgive her for being difficult. He'd seen it enough times. He was used to it by now.
"Don't bother," he said, cutting her off. "Go to bed. I'm going up."
The housekeeper pursed her lips as he disappeared up the stairs. She knew — the only hangover tea he'd ever drink was the kind Ms. Morley made. She'd never understood that particular quirk of his.
Alaric stood in his room, pressing his fingers against his temple, and pulled out his phone. He opened his chat with Katerina.
Every message in the thread was from her. She sent, he read. He almost never replied.
He stared at the empty text field and typed: Where are you?
Then he thought about what she'd said at the hotel — that they were nothing to each other — and a fresh flash of irritation moved through him. He deleted the words one by one and put his phone away.
He'd been too lenient with her. That was the problem. She'd gotten so used to it that a single argument was enough to make her act like this.
One fight, and she couldn't even come home.
******
The next morning, Katerina showed up to work with dark circles carved under her eyes.
She walked in looking like she hadn't slept, because she hadn't. Today was her last day.
"Hey," she said, stopping by her colleague's desk. "My mom's been pushing me to come home and get married. Today might be my last day — I already sent everything to your email for the handoff."
Mandy stared at her. "That fast?"
"Yeah."
"What about your last paycheck?"
Katerina gave a thin smile. "I don't need it."
Mandy thought for a second. "Give me half a day. I'll talk to HR and get them to write you a proper termination letter. You'll need it for your next job."
Katerina considered that. Half a day was nothing. "Okay. Thank you."
She went to her desk and started sorting through her personal things. What she hadn't expected was for Alaric to come in that morning.
She kept her eyes on what she was doing. She felt his stare burning into the back of her head, heavy and unblinking, and she didn't look up. Not once.
Until his shoes stepped into the edge of her vision.
Alaric stood over her, unhurried and unbothered, and tapped the surface of her desk with one finger. "Secretary Morley. My office."
He turned and walked away without waiting.
Katerina looked at the potted plant on her desk and had a very specific thought about his face. She let it go. They were almost done. There was no point making it ugly.
She pushed open his office door. "Mr. Harlow. You wanted to see me?"
He tilted his chin toward the door behind her. "Close it. Come here."
She left it open a crack and stayed where she was, a solid ten feet between them.
"Mr. Harlow. What did you need?"
A thin, mocking curve touched his mouth. "You used to beg me to hold you to sleep at night. Now you can't stand within ten feet of me?"
"I've resigned," she said, her face perfectly calm. "I'm almost not your employee anymore. Is there something wrong with keeping my distance?"
The amusement died. Something cold moved through his eyes. "Resigned? Who authorized that?" His voice sharpened. "Don't play games with me, Katerina. Playing hard to get doesn't work on me."
"I'm not playing anything. I don't have time for that."
"Then why?" His voice cracked with urgency. "Is my pay not enough? Is there another company out there offering you more than Harlow Holdings?"
Katerina looked at him. And slowly, clearly, she smiled.
"Alaric Harlow," she said. "I'm going home to get married."
