SIX

MELODY'S POV

The moment the plane touches down in San Francisco, I decide that Vegas was a fever dream. I tell myself it didn’t happen and even if it did, it was a mistake. A bad decision that will be left behind in a city designed to swallow people whole. I’m good at compartmentalizing. Always have been. That was why I did well at my job so I'll treat this situation just as I would a job I do not want.

I will file it under: Do Not Repeat.

The plan is simple. I’ll get an annulment, delete his number that he put on my phone, pretend none of it happened, and focus on salvaging what’s left of my life.

Easy peasy. Except nothing’s ever easy.

San Francisco feels colder than I remember or it might just be me.

The whole buzz of bad decisions and reckless freedom I felt on the street of Vegas is gone and replaced with an ache in my chest and a headache I can’t shake off. I get home from the airport, drop my bag, and crawl into bed without unpacking.

My phone stays off.I don’t want to see messages from anyone. Not my friends, not the bridal train I ghosted, and definitely not Rick. I already know what they’ll say.

Some will ask: What happened? Are you okay? Are you really married?

My reply will be: I have no idea. No. No and technically yes.

I don't want to hear any of it.

I sleep for twelve hours straight, wake up on Sunday, and pretend it’s any other weekend. I do my travel laundry, scrub the bathroom, order Chinese takeout and eat it straight from the box. Normal things. Safe, familiar, boring things.

I don’t think about anything and most especially about Alexander Kincaid.

I don’t think about the way his mouth felt against my skin, or how it sounded when he said “Good morning, Mrs. Kincaid.”

I definitely don’t think about the look in his eyes when he told me he wasn’t undoing the wedding because it’s over.

What happens in Vegas, stays there. Vegas rules don’t follow you home.

Monday morning comes too quickly and I put on my best outfit. A high-waist black trousers, a silk blouse and high heels sharp enough to pierce egos. My hair’s smooth, my makeup flawless enough to hide my eye bags and I put on some red lipstick.

Nobody will know about the war going on inside of me. I’ll walk into that office like nothing happened, like my fiancee didn't embarrass me a few hours to our wedding and like I didn’t get married to a near-stranger in a roadside chapel while drunk on Dom Pérignon and spite.

By 9 a.m., this will all be behind me, I think but I only make it as far as the office lobby.

The first thing I notice is the tension in the room. No one was talking but the silence was loud. Eyes dart to phones and other people but no one is saying anything. Something is definitely wrong.

The receptionist, Dana, looks pale when she glances up from her screen.

“Good morning,” I say, forcing a casual voice but she doesn’t answer. She just swallows hard and flicks her gaze back to her computer.

Rude but okay.

I head for the elevators, balancing my coffee in one hand and my phone in the other. I finally turned it back on this morning, and it immediately blew up with a backlog of texts and emails I haven’t read yet.

The elevator pings and I step inside with a group of coworkers, including Marcus from product development and Naomi from HR. Nobody’s talking. Naomi’s practically vibrating with nerves.

The doors start to close.

“Wait!” someone shouts, and a guy I don’t recognize sprints inside.

Must be a new guy. Rick's replacement perhaps.

He looks half-dead, pale and sweating, clutching his phone like it personally betrayed him.

I hit the button for the 14th floor. Nobody else moves.

Then, Marcus clears his throat. “Did you guys see it?”

Naomi nods, biting her lip. “The email?”

My stomach forms a thousand knots.

“What email?” I ask, too casually.

Naomi stares at me like I just announced I don’t believe in gravity.

“You didn’t check?” she whispers.

I unlock my phone and open my inbox.

It’s there in my mail. Bold and stamped with the company’s official logo.

From: Corporate Communications

Subject: Executive Announcement

I click it open.

The words hit me like a slap.

"Effective immediately, Alexander Kincaid, general CEO will be taking over direct operations."

Oh my God. I grip the railing of the elevator to stop the floor from spinning beneath me. Alexander will now be my direct boss.

But it does not end there. It gets worse.

"Additionally, effective today, Rick Browning is no longer employed with this company due to conduct unbecoming of our most esteemed company. We wish him the best in his future endeavors."

A sound escapes my throat. I think it’s a sob or maybe a laugh.

Marcus whistles under his breath. “Yeah right. Dude got nuked.”

Naomi glances around before leaning in, concern in her voice. “I heard there’s a video.”

I already know there’s a video. I saw it. Lived it.

I remain quiet while the elevator slows down and the doors slide open.

And there he is.

Alexander motherfucking Kincaid.

Stepping out of another elevator across the lobby like he owns the building which, apparently, he does. Dark suit, crisp shirt and not a hair out of place. Just like he looked the first time I saw him at the mixer. Just as he looked on our wedding night.

Our eyes meet and the corner of his mouth curves in a way that makes my stomach flip. He crosses the lobby without hesitation, moving through people like they aren’t even there. Conversation dies. Phones lower. Everyone feels the shift in the air that his presence exudes.

He stops in front of me.

“Hello, wife.”

I think I stop breathing. He didn't just say that in front of everyone did he?

Marcus lets out a strangled cough and Naomi chokes on the shock. The other guy in the elevator makes the sign of the cross.

I manage to find my voice. “What are you doing here?”

His smile makes me even more nervous “To my office. Now.”

He turns on his heel and walks away, not bothering to see if I follow and for half a second, I consider running for the elevator and just going home but that will be unlike me. I wasn't weak and I refused to let this situation make me weak.

I adjust my jacket, lift my chin, and step out of the elevator. Naomi following rapidly like a dog

"Did he just...”

“Yeah,” I mutter just to keep her away and I hear Marcus whistle low behind me. “Holy shit, Melody. What did you do in Vegas?”

I don’t answer and I keep walking. Everybody's eyes are on me. Conversations stopping when I get closer. Staff pretending to be glued to their screens. I felt like I was in hell but I kept my chin up until I get to the executive suite.

“He’s expecting you,” his assistant says before I could say a word. I nod and push the door open, saying a quick prayer before I step inside.