Amara's POV
Morning light spilled through the tall windows of the guest wing as I fastened the last button of my dress. It was a simple cream sheath with a soft belt at the waist, but it fit perfectly, skimming my body in a way that felt both professional and unapologetically feminine.
After the disaster of my first night in the kitchen, I needed armor that looked like ease. The mirror confirmed it: hair sleek, makeup subtle, dress immaculate. I looked like someone who belonged in this house, even if I still felt like an intruder.
Downstairs, voices floated up the marble stairwell. Trey's low baritone, threaded with something sharper than usual. Another voice, smooth and unfamiliar, answered him. I hesitated, then followed the sound, heels clicking softly against the polished floor.
When I reached the foyer, Trey stood at the bottom of the stairs with Tessa and a man I'd never seen before. He was tall, dark haired, sun bronzed, his jacket slung over one arm like an afterthought. Something about his posture, relaxed but watchful, made him seem like he'd stepped out of a photograph and into the marble hall.
His gaze flicked up first, and when it landed on me, something changed. He straightened a little, eyes brightening as if he'd been waiting for this moment without knowing it.
But it was Trey's reaction that I felt in the pit of my stomach. His head snapped toward Adrian, catching the way the man's eyes lingered on me, and for a split second his mask cracked, a flicker of agitation, a tightening of his jaw, a muscle jumping in his cheek.
I descended the stairs slowly, palms brushing the rail as though to steady myself. "Good morning," I said, aiming for neutral.
"Morning," Trey said curtly, then gestured between us. "Amara, this is Adrian Rousseau, my best man and best friend in college. Adrian, this is Amara Castillo, our wedding coordinator."
Adrian's smile widened, slow and deliberate, his gaze never wavering from mine. "Wedding coordinator," he repeated softly, as though rolling the words over his tongue. "You make it sound like she's just a title, Trey." He leaned forward slightly, eyes glinting with mischief.
"For a second, I thought she was the bride. And I have to say…" his voice dipped lower, richer, "…I'm glad she's not. Because that means I can actually look at her without feeling guilty." His eyes flicked over me once more, unapologetic. "You're far more than a title, aren't you?"
Heat crept up the back of my neck before I could stop it. I pressed my lips together, trying to control the bloom of color rising to my cheeks. This was not the time to blush. I managed a polite nod, forcing my voice to stay even. "Just doing my job."
"Told you she's a knockout when she's not buried under seating charts and floral samples."
Trey's fingers flexed at his side, his voice tightening. "We should go over the schedule before the vendors arrive."
Adrian didn't move. "Of course. But first…" his smile tipped a little higher, "…I'm glad to finally meet the woman keeping this wedding from falling apart."
I forced a small smile, as if I hadn't noticed the shift in the air, but my pulse betrayed me. The dress was supposed to be armor. Instead it felt like a match in a powder room, sparking off every look in the foyer, and Trey's gaze burning hottest of all.
The east dining room was flooded with pale sunlight, the long table already laid with coffee, fresh croissants, fruit, and silver pots gleaming like small moons. Adrian had taken the seat closest to the window, sleeves rolled, a watch glinting at his wrist. He looked like he belonged in some glossy travel spread, the kind of man who steps off a plane from Europe and makes the room shift without trying.
"Try the apricot jam," he said as I sat. "It's the closest I've found to what I had in Provence last week."
I arched a brow, letting a small smile flicker. "You flew in from Europe and your first concern is jam?"
"Jam," Adrian said, eyes catching mine, "and finally meeting the woman Tessa's been talking about nonstop since I landed."
Tessa laughed from the other end of the table, stirring her coffee. "It's true," she said brightly. "I couldn't wait for you to meet my best friend. I've been telling him about you for days."
Adrian's smile tilted, slow and deliberate. "Best friend? That explains a lot. I was starting to think she'd made you up."
I dipped my spoon into my coffee, letting the steam rise between us. "You're easily impressed," I said, tone light but teasing. "You haven't even seen my work yet."
"Don't ruin the mystery," he murmured, leaning a little closer. "I like imagining you exactly as you are right now."
Tessa let out a laugh. "Oh, wow. You're laying it on thick."
I tilted my head, letting my smile linger just enough. "Subtlety doesn't seem to be your strong suit, does it?"
"Only when the food is terrible," Adrian countered with a smirk. "But with women like you? I say exactly what I think." His voice dipped lower, rich with mischief. "I bet the bride hesitated before hiring you. Gorgeous, sharp, commanding… you're the kind of woman people lose their footing around."
Across from us, Trey had gone very still. His coffee sat untouched, his fingers resting against the mug but not moving. His gaze flicked from Adrian to me and back again, dark and unreadable, a muscle jumping once in his cheek. He looked like a man holding back a storm.
Adrian reached for the jam, spreading it on a croissant with lazy precision. "So," he said, "will you be the one giving me the grand tour of the estate? I'd rather see it through your eyes than a brochure."
"I might be busy," I said lightly, enjoying the faint thrum of tension under my skin. "But I'll see what I can do."
He grinned. "I'll take that as a yes."
Tessa choked on her coffee and fanned herself. "You two are killing me," she said, eyes sparkling. "This is better than breakfast TV."
I took another sip of my coffee, deliberately unhurried. The dress was supposed to be armor, but with Adrian leaning in and Trey's silence thick as smoke, it felt more like a fuse.
Adrian leaned back at last, unfazed. "Go ahead with your meetings. I'll take a tour of the gardens. Maybe Ms. Castillo can show me later?"
Trey's fingers tightened imperceptibly around his mug until his knuckles whitened. He didn't speak, didn't blink, but the tension radiated from him like heat from a stone.
Before anything else could be said, I excused myself, scooping up my tablet. "I'll set up in the study."
As I left, I could feel Trey's stare at my back, silent, contained, but burning.
The study was cool and dim after the bright dining room, the scent of leather and polished wood grounding me. I'd just set my tablet on the table when the door closed behind me with a quiet, deliberate click.
Trey.
He didn't move at first. He just stood there, shoulders squared, the soft glow from the window cutting across his face like a blade. For a second he looked like he was fighting himself, but then the mask snapped and the voice came, low and edged.
"You had a boyfriend," he said, each word measured. "And you were flirting with my best friend at my table."
I turned slowly, letting the pause stretch just long enough to make his irritation simmer. I tilted my head as if I were analyzing a particularly complicated budget line. "Flirting," I repeated softly, a faint smile ghosting at the corner of my mouth. "We were talking about jam."
His eyes sharpened immediately. He took one step forward. Then another. A storm gathering in silence.
"Do not play dumb, Amara." His voice was low, almost dangerous. "Adrian could not take his eyes off you. And you…" his jaw tightened, "you were letting him."
The air thickened between us. I let the silence settle until it became heavy. Then I smiled. A real smile this time. Soft, unbothered, and just a little triumphant.
"You do not have to worry," I said lightly. "I broke up with my boyfriend yesterday. I am single now."
That made him blink. It was quick, but I saw it. The crack in his composure. The flicker of something raw and unguarded. His hand gripped the back of the nearest chair, knuckles turning white.
"You are still immature," he said, voice tightening around each word. "Breaking up with someone that easily. Like flipping a switch."
I lifted my chin, letting the challenge show in my eyes. "No. I was mature enough to admit I made a mistake. I refused to waste someone's time when I already knew my heart was not in it."
His jaw clenched again. He did not like that answer. He did not like a lot of things lately.
"Besides," I continued, my tone steady and determined, "I finally get to choose. I have options now. I can build the life I want. I can date men who actually want me." My gaze slid over him slowly, deliberately. "Men who do not treat me like a foolish little girl."
His fingers curled tighter. A muscle in his cheek jumped. He looked furious but also strangely at a loss. As if he did not know where anger ended and something else began.
"Funny, is it not," I added, lightly. "I never imagined I would be the type of woman your best friend would notice."
Trey's nostrils flared. His eyes darkened. Beneath the anger, something hotter simmered. Possessive. Territorial. Something he refused to name.
"Be careful," he said at last, voice dropping to a ragged whisper. "Adrian is a playboy."
I raised an eyebrow. "Then maybe that makes us compatible. Because I am done being the good girl. I can take care of myself, Mr Alvarez."
His name on my lips felt dangerous. It made something flicker in his gaze.
"And do not worry," I added evenly. "I learned my lesson. I will not make the same mistake again."
His shoulders went rigid. His eyes locked onto mine.
The confession I once made. The one I regretted. The one he never even acknowledged.
"It was something I said because I thought it was real," I murmured, my voice soft but cutting. "I was foolish enough to believe it meant anything. I will never embarrass myself like that again. Not in a million years."
The silence that followed pressed down on me. It felt thick, like the air itself wanted to choke me for daring to imply I had ever mattered. Trey stayed where he was, expression carved from stone. No flicker of guilt. No hint of surprise. Nothing. Just that quiet, impossible restraint that always made me feel like I was the only one drowning in memories.
He finally spoke, unbothered and cold. "Stay away from Adrian."
I forced a smile that tasted like bitterness. "Then maybe you should tell your best friend that. He seemed very interested." I tucked my hair behind my ear, trying to look composed, like everything in me was not cracking open at the seams.
"And since I am single," I continued lightly, "I can go anywhere and be with anyone I want. I do not owe explanations to anyone. Certainly not you."
He said nothing. His jaw tightened for a second, but maybe I imagined that. I needed to stop assuming there was anything left to see in him. If he had felt even a fraction of what I once confessed, he would have shown it long ago. He would have stopped me. He would have said something. Anything.
Instead he stood there like a statue. Untouched. Unmoved.
Like I was just another employee in his office.
I turned back to my tablet, letting my hair fall forward to hide the way my breath hitched. I tried to focus on the glow of the screen, on numbers and schedules and anything that was not Trey. My fingers looked steady, but my heart was pounding painfully against my ribs, each beat a reminder of everything I should have let go.
Maybe I was the only one who ever cared.
The room felt too warm, but he did not seem affected at all. If anything, he looked bored. Detached. Like this was just another meeting he could not wait to end.
I swallowed the ache rising in my throat. I told myself I was over him, it was all in the past, and I told myself he never wanted me anyway.
But when I felt him glance my way again, the truth whispered cruelly under my skin. I was still tangled. Still burning. Still hopelessly yearning for a man who was already gone.