Chapter 2

Harvey shouldn't have imagined Isabella naked, especially not while she was calmly sipping her cocktail as though she hadn't just planted an image in his head that now refused to disappear.

He knew perfectly well she'd been joking. Her tone, her smile, and, above all, the sheer audacity with which she'd suggested he could fuck her senseless to give their spouses a taste of their own medicine had left no room for doubt.

Isabella had tossed the provocation onto the table as casually as she might have commented on the weather, probably expecting to scandalize him a little before returning to her lunch.

The problem was that Harvey could no longer approach their conversation in quite the same way.

Until that moment, he'd managed to think of Isabella exclusively as the wife of the man sleeping with Theresa. She was a piece of a problem he needed to solve, a stranger he'd invited to lunch to deliver some unpleasant news and who, with any luck, might help him obtain the evidence he needed.

But now he was looking at her as a woman, and she was a fucking attractive one.

He'd just imagined her beneath him, and no matter how hard he tried to banish the image, his mind seemed particularly determined to hold on to it.

Harvey clenched his jaw and held her gaze across the table. Perhaps what unsettled him most was that the desire hadn't been born from her provocation. Her words had merely given a name to something that had been developing ever since Isabella had responded to the worst news he could possibly deliver with a sip of her cocktail and the absolute composure of a woman who could no longer be humiliated by something she no longer cared about.

That was what had thrown him off balance.

He'd arrived expecting to find another person wounded by the same betrayal he'd only recently discovered. Instead, he'd found himself sitting across from a woman who had already shed every tear she intended to shed over her husband. Isabella didn't want him back, showed no interest in competing with Theresa, and certainly didn't need Harvey explaining why she ought to be devastated.

She'd simply moved on, and for reasons Harvey wasn't particularly eager to examine, he found that fucking attractive.

Isabella held his gaze a second longer than necessary.

She couldn't quite identify the emotion that had crossed Harvey's eyes. Surprise, certainly. Perhaps irritation. And yet, as she brought her glass to her lips again, she could have sworn there was something else lurking beneath the surface, something considerably more interesting.

She knew perfectly well that she was an attractive woman. She had no need to resort to false modesty to acknowledge it. She had light blue eyes that invariably drew attention, long legs, a slender figure, and the kind of face that had prompted more than a few people over the years to ask why she'd never considered modeling.

Her husband knew it, too.

The fact that he'd chosen to sleep with another woman had never managed to make Isabella feel any less beautiful, although she had admittedly needed a little time to remind herself of that.

The waiter returned with their food before either of them could say anything else.

Isabella began eating at an unhurried pace while Harvey remained considerably quieter than he'd been earlier.

The silence didn't bother her, but it certainly bothered him.

Every time he looked up, he discovered something else about her that didn't fit the woman he'd constructed in his imagination.

He'd expected fragility and found composure. He'd expected outrage and found humor. He'd expected a temporary ally brought together with him by their shared misfortune, only to discover that the thought of undressing her had taken hold of his imagination with an ease that was becoming increasingly irritating.

They ate without speaking until Isabella finished her meal, set her cutlery on her plate, and leaned back in her chair.

She was the one who finally broke the silence.

“So, you're looking for evidence.”

“That's right.” Harvey took a sip of his drink. “I value loyalty far more than love.”

Isabella regarded him more attentively.

It was probably the first thing he'd said since she'd arrived that had genuinely piqued her curiosity.

“Interesting.”

“Why?”

“Because most people in your situation would be talking about a broken heart.”

“I'm not sure Theresa broke my heart.”

The admission came so easily that even he was surprised, but Isabella simply waited for him to continue.

“But she broke an agreement,” Harvey went on. “If she wanted to be with someone else, she could have told me. She didn't need my permission to end our marriage. What I won't accept is someone looking me in the eye every day and expecting my loyalty while deciding that hers is optional.”

Isabella tilted her head slightly as she studied him, beginning to understand the restrained fury he'd brought with him to the restaurant.

He wasn't desperate to win Theresa back. He was furious because he'd been betrayed, and there was an enormous difference between the two.

“Then we have something in common,” she said.

“Loyalty?”

“A complete lack of interest in convincing someone to choose us.”

For the first time, Harvey smiled without bitterness.

“At first, I wasn't planning to do anything,” he continued. “Then I decided I wanted a divorce and to enforce our prenuptial agreement.”

“Ah, the famous prenups…”

Harvey raised an eyebrow.

“Don't give me that look,” she continued. “They're wonderful until you discover you've signed one that only works in your favor under very specific circumstances.”

“Is that why you haven't divorced him yet?”

“I'm three necklaces away from achieving my goal.”

Harvey blinked.

“Three what?”

“Necklaces.”

“Is that some financial unit of measurement I'm unfamiliar with?”

“Not all of us have enough financial freedom to have a hysterical breakdown, walk away from our lives, and figure out the consequences afterward. I've been putting my plans into motion, but they take time,” Isabella explained with a smile.

“If money weren't an issue, would you have left him already?”