The rain began as a whisper — a soft tapping against the glass — but by the time Emily stepped out of the town car, it had become a downpour.
She didn't bring an umbrella.She didn't care.
The day had been too long. The charity lunch with Alexander's board members had been exhausting. Smiling through veiled insults, nodding at hollow compliments — she had done her job, played the role. Again.
But tonight, she needed air.And a moment without eyes on her.
She walked through Central Park, heels clicking on the slick pavement, her coat clutched around her. Thunder grumbled above like a warning. She didn't stop.
Only when the water soaked through her dress and her hair clung to her face did she realize she had no idea where she was going.
And no idea who she was anymore.
Back at the penthouse, Alexander stood at the window, brows furrowed.
Emily hadn't returned.
She never said where she was going after the event. She had simply stepped out of the car halfway through the ride home, muttering something about needing space.
He waited thirty minutes.Then an hour.Then ninety minutes.
Damn it.
He pulled on a coat, grabbed his keys, and left.
He found her near the Bethesda Terrace, sitting on the edge of the fountain, rain pouring around her like curtains.
She looked up, startled.Then scowled. "Are you following me?"
"No," he said. "I'm retrieving my wife."
"I'm not a missing pet, Alexander."
"You're soaked."
"You noticed."
She turned her face away, blinking back whatever emotion danced behind her eyes.
He moved closer. "You didn't answer your phone."
"I didn't want to."
He exhaled, rain trickling down his brow. "You can't disappear like that."
"Why?" she snapped. "It's not like you'd miss me."
"I did."
The words silenced her.
He stepped into her space now, his voice low. "You can hate me. You can ignore me. But you are my responsibility, Emily. I promised to protect you — even if this marriage is built on paper and lies."
She looked up at him. Her mascara was smudged, cheeks flushed from the cold, but her gaze burned. "I don't need your protection. I need… I need to feel real again."
They stood inches apart. The rain soaking them both. Their contract forgotten in the thunder.
Alexander reached out, brushing a wet strand of hair from her cheek.
"Then feel this," he whispered.
He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers — slow, careful, as if asking permission.
Emily froze.
Then melted.
Her fingers curled into his coat. His hands settled at her waist.
The kiss deepened — no cameras, no expectations, no audience. Just two broken people holding each other like the storm might swallow them whole.
When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathing hard.
Alexander spoke first. "We should go."
Emily nodded, unable to trust her voice.
Back at the penthouse, she changed into dry clothes, wrapped in a blanket on the couch.
Alexander poured two cups of tea.
Silence lingered again — but now it was softer.
"I'm sorry," she said finally. "For walking off. For acting like a child."
"You're not a child."
"I feel like one. Lost. Angry. Constantly proving I'm not the weak woman they think I am."
He sat beside her. "You're stronger than any of them. Than most people I know."
She laughed bitterly. "Coming from the coldest man in Manhattan, that means something."
He didn't smile. "I wasn't always cold."
Emily turned. "What happened?"
He hesitated. Then: "I trusted someone once. She betrayed me. Cost me my company's first contract and nearly everything I built."
"Your ex?"
He nodded. "She sold my designs to a competitor. Left a note. Said I was 'too calculating' for love."
Emily shook her head. "People are cruel when you stop fitting their fantasy."
He looked at her. "You're not a fantasy, Emily. You're... real."
Something in her chest cracked. She didn't want it to — didn't want to feel — but it did.
"I'm scared," she admitted.
"So am I."
She looked at him. "What happens now?"
Alexander's answer was simple. "We rewrite the rules."
That night, she didn't sleep in the guest room.
She didn't sleep with him, either. But she fell asleep next to him — the space between them small, yet filled with a thousand unspoken truths.
And for the first time since signing that cursed contract…Emily felt warm.