002

CHAPTER 2

Sophia's Point of View

A low, gravelly chuckle vibrated through the speaker, instantly warming the small, enclosed space of my car.

"Always," Daniel murmured, his voice dropping into that slow, intimate register he reserved for moments when it was just the two of us. "But you're the one who deserves to be spoiled if you actually managed to pin Langford down. Did he give you a hard time?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle," I said, a faint, secret smirk touching my lips. "Let's just say he signed exactly where I told him to. But enough about business. What are you doing right now?"

"Sitting on the edge of our bed, thinking about what you're wearing under that blazer."

My breath hitched instantly. "Daniel..."

"Are you wearing those lace ones? The black ones I bought you in London?" His voice became a deliberate silk drag. "Because if you are, Sophia, you need to pull over right now. Tell me what you're doing."

"Stop, Daniel," I gasped out, my hand tightening on the steering wheel. "I'm in the car. At least wait until I get home, and then I'll show you just how active I can be."

He chuckled again, deep and satisfied. "I'm going to hold you to that. And oh, baby? I also have a surprise for you."

"Oh, really? For me? It's your birthday, you're not supposed to be giving me gifts."

"Trust me, this is something we've needed for a long time. It's going to change everything for us."

The cryptic words sent a pleasant shiver of anticipation down my spine. Change everything? Maybe he'd finally agreed to that vacation in Santorini I'd been suggesting, or perhaps he'd decided to take a step back from work like we'd discussed. Whatever it was, the promise in his voice made my heart race.

"I'll be home soon then," I said, unable to keep the sheer joy out of my voice. "Don't start without me."

"Drive fast, Sophia."

I ended the call and pulled the car into gear, the tires crunching over the gravel as I drove out into the Texas traffic. The whole drive home, I found myself smiling at nothing, replaying the low pitch of his voice, thinking about the ten years since we'd met at a charity gala neither of us had wanted to attend. Everyone in his family's circle had told me back then how lucky I was to have caught a Hawthorne. I'd never once thought of it that way. I'd thought I was lucky to have found someone who looked at me like I was the only interesting person in a room full of important ones.

My first stop was the bakery in Houston to pick up the three-tier red velvet cake I'd customized weeks ago, filled with Daniel's favorite dark chocolate ganache — a small indulgence at two hundred dollars, but worth every cent for the look on his face. The baker, a soft-spoken woman named Renee who'd made every one of our anniversary cakes, walked it out herself, fussing over the sugar flowers along the top tier. "He's a lucky man," she said, and I'd laughed and told her I was the lucky one. I believed it completely in that moment.

Next came a quick run to a premium gourmet store for the specific ingredients I needed for his favorite steak dinner: aged ribeye, fresh rosemary, imported butter, and those tiny fingerling potatoes he loved. Every errand felt effortless, the kind of happy fatigue that only comes from loving someone with your whole chest.

By the time I pulled through the heavy iron gates of the Hawthorne Estate, the night had grown deep and quiet, the moon low over the palm trees. I carried the cake box into the kitchen and set it carefully onto the marble island, planning to slide it into the fridge once I'd said hello.

I walked upstairs, the sound of my heels muffled by the thick runner on the staircase. I shed my blazer on the way, tossing it over the banister.

"Baby? Daniel?"

The distinct hum of the shower ran behind the frosted glass door of the master bathroom. I stripped out of my clothes and stepped into the steam-filled bathroom. The glass door slid open with a soft click. Daniel stood under the spray, his back to me.

I stepped inside, reached around his waist, and pressed my front against his warm, wet back.

He jerked away violently, his elbow almost clipping my chin as he spun around. "Fuck, Sophia! Why would you do that?"

I stumbled back a step, startled. For a moment, he looked almost guilty. But I quickly covered my confusion with a pout, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"I wanted to give you a surprise. And I missed you," I whined.

Daniel stood rigid for a fraction of a second before his posture softened, a slow smile pulling at his lips. But something about that smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days."

"Happy birthday," I whispered, pushing away the uneasy feeling that had briefly flickered through me.

He grabbed my chin and kissed me, hard and searching, hungrier than usual. There was something different about it, something almost desperate, but I was too caught up in the moment to analyze it. He lifted me against the tile wall, and neither of us said another word until the water ran cold.

Afterward, dressed in a simple silk slip, we ate the steaks I'd seared downstairs, sharing a bottle of wine in a quiet, comfortable rhythm. It felt perfect. It felt like the marriage I'd spent five years building.

When we finished, I carried the plates to the sink. Daniel came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, pressing a lingering kiss to my pulse point. I giggled, leaning back into him. "What is it, birthday boy? Let me finish up so we can go back upstairs."

He didn't laugh. His grip tightened for a second, almost painfully, and then he pulled away completely. The kitchen felt instantly colder.

I turned to look at him. His hands were shoved deep into his sweatpants pockets, his face wiped clean of the warmth from dinner. "I have to tell you something," he said, his voice flat.

"Okay..." My smile died. "You're acting weird. What's the surprise?"

He looked me dead in the eye, unblinking.

"Le

t's have an open marriage, Sophia."