Chapter 3

NYLA

The sound of heels clicking against the marble floor outside our bedroom door was the only alarm clock I needed to know that Paisley was here.

The heavy weight of Aeron’s arm was gone, but the heat he’d left behind on my skin felt like a permanent brand.

The door swung open, revealing Paisley. She was dressed in a bright yellow pantsuit. Her straightened hair swished low behind her back.

"Nyla, why are you still asleep? Have you not seen the news? The tabloids are going crazy," she informed me while pulling the curtains wide open.

I narrowed my eyes against the blinding sunlight streaming into the room. "What?" I croaked out.

"Where the hell is Smithers? Why didn't he wake you up?" She continued, pulling back the blankets.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips, her gaze slowly raking over my body.

"Lingerie?" She mumbled before curiously checking her surroundings. "Aeron's tie, Aeron's pants, Aeron's shirt... did you have sex with your husband last night?" She asked, smirking in my direction.

I sat upright, running a slow hand through my hair. "Ex-husband," I corrected her, grabbing my phone off the nightstand.

A message from Aeron was the first thing I saw. He never messaged me. Not unless it was an emergency.

I clicked on the message. And found a short message.

Breakfast at 8:00. Dress for the press. We have a leak to manage. Meet me at L'Eclat.

"Alright, run me through it. Who leaked what to the press?" I asked as I made my way into the bathroom.

Paisley followed me inside, running the shower while I got undressed. "Elodie was seen leaving the mansion last night. Now, people are accusing Aeron of adultery."

We haven't made our divorce public yet. In their eyes, we were still happily married. So, in a way, their suspicions made perfect sense.

"Understood," I said, shaking my head in disbelief.

The message was clear. Elodie wasn't going anywhere without a fight.

I stepped out of the shower, wrapping a crisp white towel around my body. An elegant, short white dress lay on my bed.

Paisley was sitting in the corner of the room, her eyes glued to her iPad screen.

I did my makeup before I did my hair. Once I was done, I carefully pulled on the dress. "Isn't this a little too short?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at Paisley.

"Not short enough," she scoffed. "Last night clearly failed. You should show some more skin today, present yourself as irresistible," she calmly advised.

I slipped my feet into a pair of designer high heels. Paisley got up from her chair, grabbing my purse along with hers.

She walked me to my car. "Call me if you need anything. I'll be at the office, putting out fires all day," she uttered before walking over to her own car.

Smithers opened my car door for me. "Mrs. King," he started in a thick British accent. "Are you okay to drive by yourself, or would you like me to call one of the chauffeurs?"

"No, Smithers, I'll manage on my own. I'll see you when I get back," I assured him, kindly rubbing his arm.

I carefully climbed into my car and drove off in the direction of the restaurant Aeron mentioned in his text.

After a fifteen-minute drive, I parked my car in the VIP section of the parking lot. The maître d’ met me at the door.

"Mrs. King," the man uttered with a respectful nod. "Welcome to L'Eclat, please follow me to your table."

I simply nodded before following him inside. Heads turned in our direction as soon as we stepped inside.

People curiously whispered my name under their breaths, some took pictures, while others pretended not to know me.

Aeron was waiting for me at one of the tables on the rooftop. He was looking at something on his phone, a light frown creasing his forehead.

I didn't wait for the maître d’ to announce me. I walked toward his table, the heels of my stilettos clicking like a countdown on the marble floor.

Aeron looked up, his eyes narrowing as he took in my short white dress.

As I reached him, I didn't wait for a greeting. I leaned down and brushed my lips against the corner of his mouth, staying far enough to keep him hungry.

"Missed me?" I whispered, my scent of vanilla clouding his senses.

Before I could pull away, his hand shot out, his fingers hooking firmly around my waist. He didn't just hold me; he hauled me toward him.

"You're late, Nyla," he rasped, his voice loud enough for the nearby table to hear, sounding like a doting, possessive husband.

He leaned in, his nose brushing mine for the cameras, but his eyes were ice.

"Keep me waiting again, and I’ll make sure the press hears exactly why you were busy this morning."

Envious whispers came from the next table. I felt the blood rushing to my ears and cheeks as memories from the previous night flooded my mind.

Aeron smirked as I sat down across from him. He impatiently pulled the velvet chair closer to him until I was sitting between his legs.

His eyes softened on me as he gently took my hands in his. "Do you still want to meet your father today?" He asked, seeming genuinely curious about my decision.

Just as I was about to speak, Elodie appeared on the rooftop. She walked up to us, confidently pulling out a chair to join us.

"People should start calling us a throuple," she laughed before taking a seat across from us. "Aeron, can we go over the designs for the 50th King Collection? I worked my fingers to the bone last night."

Aeron leaned back in his chair, sending her a sharp look of frustration.

"Leave your designs on my desk. At the office. I'll go through them before the end of the day," he blankly stated.

"As you wish," she chirped out, her eyes lingering on him for a second too long. She finally turned to look at me.

She placed a hand on her chest. "I'm so sorry about the scandal I caused last night. All I wanted was to check in on Aeron, and now look," she sighed, hopelessly throwing her hands in the air.

"Don't worry, I know my husband would never cheat on me with you," I laughed in her face. "I mean, you're like an older sister to both of us."

Her hands balled into fists. "Really? I didn't realize you held me in such high regards," she said, offering me a tight-lipped smile.

"How could I not? You're always... lurking," I told her with a smile on my face.

I turned back to Aeron, ignoring the way Elodie’s face twisted into a mask of pure loathing.

"I have to go to the restroom," Elodie whispered before leaving the table.

For the first time in three years, I had Aeron's full attention.

His thumb traced a slow, rhythmic circle over my knuckles, and the heat of it made my breath hitch.

"You've changed, Nyla," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "I'm starting to wonder if I ever knew you at all."

"You didn't," I whispered, leaning in. "But you have eighty-nine days left to—"

My phone shrieked on the table. The screen lit up with a name that made the blood drain from my face.

LUCIFER

A text notification popped up right under Aeron’s watchful gaze.

Stop playing house with the King boy. Meet me at the office in twenty minutes or I’ll tell the press exactly why your perfect marriage was a fraud from day one.

The air in my lungs vanished. I snatched the phone away, but it was too late. I saw the shift in Aeron’s eyes, the suspicion growing in them.

"Is there something you need to tell me, Nyla?" he asked, his grip on my hand tightening until it hurt.

"I... I have to go," I stammered, shoving my chair back. The chair screeched against the floor.

"We're in the middle of a press recovery, Nyla. Sit down," he commanded, his voice a low, dangerous warning.

I didn't listen. I couldn't. If my father talked, the ninety days wouldn't matter. I’d be ruined before noon.

"I’m sorry, Aeron," I breathed, grabbing my purse and turning toward the exit. I didn't look back, but I could feel his gaze burning into my spine.